Part 16 (1/2)
”Only after you promoted it like a Hollywood agent promotes his star of the moment,” I said thinking of Keelie Keller's rum ball of an agent.
Van Vleet shrugged. ”You have to admit, it's brilliant PR. Especially considering this year the ride goes through Riverside.”
”Yeah? So?”
”Don't you know anything?” Van Vleet tsked and grabbed his water bottle. It also carried the Star Trek insignia. ”Riverside is the birthplace of Captain James T. Kirk of the Stars.h.i.+p Enterprise.”
”Birth place? I hate to break it to you, dude, but Star Trek was a fictional television show. None of the characters are real, including your Captain Kirk.”
”Okay. So the fictional James Tiberius Kirk was born in Riverside, Iowa.”
”You actually know what the 'T' stands for?”
Van Vleet shrugged. ”Doesn't everyone?”
Oh, Lord. Give. Me. Strength.
”The Star Trek connection has actually been a windfall for the city of Riverside. They've hosted a number of Trekkie events, some even with the series' actors,” Van Vleet informed me.
I put my fingertips together like Mr. Spock was so fond of doing. ”Fascinating,” I said, borrowing his oft-used adjective. ”Quite fascinating.”
”You're hopeless,” Van Vleet said with a shake of his head.
”Let me guess!” I snapped my fingers. ”Lucy! Peanuts!”
”Good grief.”
”Charlie Brown!” I yelled.
”Would you stop that?” Van Vleet snapped.
I grinned. It's official. I'm a little stinker.
”So, when do we take the show on the road?” I asked.
Van Vleet shook his head. ”Obviously you didn't read the TribRide for Dummies info provided.”
”I read it. I'm aware they stagger departure times. After all, they can't have over eight thousand cyclists taking off at the same time. You'd have riders running into the back of each other right and left. Not to mention the traffic nightmare for the motoring public,” I parroted Shelby Lynn's lecture.
But seriously, dude. Who knew a person had to bone up for a bike ride?
”You look like h.e.l.l,” Van Vleet observed out of the blue. ”Are you even awake enough to ride?”
”I was up late. Taking care of last minute a.s.signments-”
”Drinking beer and line-dancing,” Van Vleet finished. ”Oh yes. I saw you trying to use your buddy DeMarco to get you an 'in' with Keelie Keeler. Didn't look like it worked. In fact, I'd say it was one of those epic fails.”
”You'd know one,” I responded.
”Just what did your sister say to Keelie that got her all reality raging on social media anyway?” Van Vleet asked.
I frowned. ”What are you talking about?”
”Keelie's network feeds. Let me guess. You haven't been keeping up on your social media obligations either.”
Wow. Mark this down, folks. I, Tressa Jayne Turner, had just been formally declared not a twit. Or is that not a tweeter?
”I've been- ”Busy. Right.”
”So what's this about a raging reality diva, and what's it got to do with my little sis?” I asked.
”I'm pretty sure it was your sister Keelie called a-” Van Vleet suddenly stopped. ”What the h.e.l.l am I doing? Why should I tell you squat? You're the one who supposedly has the nose for news. Sniff it out on your own-stroker.” Van Vleet snarled.
Might be a good thing I had the backseat, after all. Drew Van Vleet had shown he wasn't above a little back-stabbing in his quest for journalistic glory. No sense giving him an easy target.
Especially one clad in Star Trek dispensable red. Gulp.
”Well. If you're going to be that way,” I said, pulling out the new Smart phone I was supposed to be utilizing for my social media networking.
I hit my phone's power b.u.t.ton. Fortunately, I'd charged the battery the night before. During Shelby Lynn's Technology for Tressa Tutorial, she'd stressed the fact that the phone drained the juice from a battery quicker than a fat baby with a bottle of chocolate milk.
Okay. What Shelby really said was quicker than I suck the filling out of a creme Bismarck, but you get the point.
Shelby had set the phone up to be as easy for me to operate as possible, downloading apps that would get me to the social media outlets with the push of a b.u.t.ton. In theory. It took me longer than it should have to get to Keelie Keller's page. But when I did- ”Oh! h.e.l.l, no! She didn't! She couldn't!”
”Is there a problem?” This came from Van Vleet.
”A problem? Uh, yeah. For Keelie Keller,” I said. ”I can't believe she posted that!”
”I know. She really ripped your sister a new one. Ouch!”
”My sister?” I hesitated. ”Have you seen the picture she posted?”
”Yeah. Your sister's hot.”
”I'm in that picture, too.” I pointed out.
”You are?” Van Vleet walked over and checked out the phone over my shoulder. ”Oh Jeez. Talk about your blackmail photos.” He hesitated. ”What exactly are you doing?”
Belching.
But I wasn't about to tell him that.
”What kind of s.a.d.i.s.tic, sick, twisted psycho puts up pictures like that of complete strangers?”
”Obviously, you've never been to WhoShopsWallysWorld.com,” Van Vleet said.
I shook my head. ”No. Why?”
”It's a freak show of garish outfits, disgusting b.u.t.t cracks, messed-up mullets, and nasty-a.s.s nose-pickers on parade,” he said. ”And I gotta tell you. That photo? It would fit right in.”