Jesse's Girl

concluded. It would be tolerable, though, if he had a girl to go back to. Someone to connect with, to laugh with. That’s ninety percent of humor, he thought, just a connection between people, a way to share common experiences. He wanted that. But he also wanted something else: the soft touch of a woman. He thought again of the girl in his chemistry class. The noisy crowd seemed to disappear as he imagined going back to her room afterwards, massaging her, kissing her, falling asleep naked in each other’s arms.

  A brief fight broke out several feet away causing him to spill beer down the front of his shirt and snapping him from his fantasy. He groaned as he looked at a dark spot on his shirt. This definitely wasn’t worth it, not without a girl to make everything worthwhile. There was nothing else to say—he would have to muster the courage to talk to her.

  Someone mentioned having a Madden tournament and, after making one last trip to the keg, they hastily drank their beers as they squeezed through the crowd and out of the noisy cellar.

  Back in the dorm, the Madden tournament underway, their floor once again came to life as people returned from their evening activities demonstrably less sober than before. Jesse played Matt Summers, a blond kid from New Jersey who had an over-inflated belief in women’s attraction to him.

  “Did anyone see that girl I was talking to?” Matt said as he waited for Jesse to choose a play. “The one with long blond hair, her name was Sally, or maybe it was Sandy. I definitely would’ve hooked up with her if you guys didn’t wanna leave.”

  “You know the way home, Summers. You could’ve stayed,” Todd pointed out as Farhad walked into the room, shuffling his flip-flops and sporting an uncombed bed head.

  “He’s alive,” someone proclaimed.

  “I didn’t want to miss the Madden tournament,” Matt said.

  “Oh doood, I can’t believe I slept all afternoon,” Farhad said, stretching his arms.

  “That’s what happens when you smoke weed all day,” Todd said.

  Farhad crossed the room, sat at Mike’s desk and turned on his computer. “Mike, can I use your computer?”

  “He turns it on then asks me,” Mike said, swigging a Busch Light.

  Jesse hung on through three and a half quarters, but then Michael Vick turned the corner on a quarterback sweep and ran seventy yards for a touchdown. Jesse fumbled the ensuing kickoff and two plays later Matt scored another touchdown, went for the two-point conversion just to rub it in, and extended the lead to twenty-two points.

  “Does anyone wannna to play real football tomorrow,” Farhad asked. “Craig and Paul are trying to get a game together. Down on the soccer fields.”

  Several people chimed in yes or no. Jesse thought about it for a second then said he should really go to see about the job at the athletic center, though he bemoaned the possibility of actually getting the job.

  “Doood, seven-fifty an hour, you can find a better job than that,” Farhad said, and he opened Craigslist and began to read several postings in the part-time job section. “Bouncer, valet driver, save the environment, dog walker. Doood, you like dogs? You could be a dog walker.”

  “Do you have to have your own pooper scooper or do they provide that for you?” Jesse said.

  “You could be a guinea pig in a medical experiment. They have tons of those,” Mike said.

  “You don’t wanna do that,” Farhad said. “Don’t worry, I already found one.” He picked up Mike’s phone, which sat on the other side of the desk from the computer, started dialing a number, then said, “Mike, can I use your phone?”

  “That better be local,” Mike answered.

  Jesse put down the controller as time ran out and listened to Farhad.

  “Yeah, I’m calling about the ad for the driver. Yup, I have a reliable car. Uh-huh. I’m free most evenings. Yup. Ahh, yeah, that would be fine. Just one second.” Farhad grabbed a pen and piece of scrap paper. “Okay, go ahead. Uh-huh, uh-huh. No, I’ll just mapquest it. My name’s Jesse. Okay, thanks.”

  Farhad hung up the phone as Jesse stood up from the couch and walked towards him.

  “What the hell kind of place is open at one o’clock at night?” Jesse asked.

  “Your new job, doood. Driver for an escort agency. It’s perfect. Evening hours, paid cash—“

  “A discount for your friends,” Matt said, laughing.

  Farhad held out the piece of paper to Jesse. “She said to stop by tomorrow, mid afternoon. Don’t worry about my finder’s fee.”

  Jesse took the piece of paper and looked at the address and number scribbled on it, shook his head and stuffed it into his pocket.

  “You smoke way too much weed,” Todd said.