Part 26 (2/2)
”I'll quit accusing when you quit doing.”
A crowd gathered, Taylor and Dixie among them. Great. Eye witnesses and video evidence.
”Ladies, ladies!” Langley stepped between us like a World Wrestling ref separates wrestlers. Okay. I hear you. Professional wrestling refs rarely wade into the fray. Let's go with boxing refs then. ”Keelie. Tressa. I thought we agreed to take our differences and channel them into contests of will, determination, and stamina.”
Good grief. Did this guy ever give it a rest?
”No offense intended, but I think you've got this reality ride confused with The Amazing Race,” I said.
”No. Wait! Just think about the global impact settling your differences through a peaceful-and harmless-series of challenges could have. The example you two set could become a blueprint for diplomacy and communication between nations. You could spark a chain reaction of contest rather than contest! Olympians rather than Gladiators! Talk about climate change!”
Talk about a twit of a Brit.
”Listen, Lang. All I want to do is to finish the ride with all of my hide,” I explained. ”I'm not looking for an amba.s.sadors.h.i.+p or a medal.”
”What about personal growth?” Lang asked.
”Overrated,” I said.
”So, I guess this means you're conceding the sand volleyball match,” Keelie said, lifting her chin and crossing her arms.
”Volleyball match?”
Keelie let out a long-suffering sigh.
”This evening's entertainment spectacle,” she said, ”which I'm sure qualifies as a hot time in this h.e.l.lish hamlet. But I suppose it's always hot in h.e.l.l. Get it? Hot. h.e.l.l.”
”Oh, Keelie,” Tiara giggled. ”You're so funny.”
”I hate to burst your bubble, Tiara, but generally if someone has to explain why something is funny, it isn't,” I pointed out. ”And just so you know, this 'h.e.l.lish hamlet' has a long and colorful past that includes a rich railroad heritage. Even now, Creston is an Amtrak stop-over for the California Zephyr continuing that lasting tradition of railroad history.” I knew this because I'd eavesdropped on one of the townsfolk on the square while waiting in line at the Open Bible lasagna supper tent.
”What are you? Like a Wiki-Trekkie?” Keelie said.
I caught myself before I laughed outright.
Score one for the Red Queen.
”Very well. I win. You lose,” Keelie said. ”Game over. Uncle Frank's franchise is toast.”
”The h.e.l.l you say?” Dixie took a pugilist's pose.
I waved her off. ”Please. That same old, tired threat? Believe me, my Uncle Frank's food has survived bigger and nastier food critics than you,” I said, sticking my own chin out.
”Oh, really? How many friends do those critics have influence with? Do you really want to take a chance that I can't put your uncle out of business?” Keelie asked. ”Do you, Trekkie Tressa?”
Did I?
h.e.l.l no. I love my Uncle Frank and Aunt Reggie. They're like family to me. I mean, they are family to me.
”You should know I was a volleyball player in high school,” I informed the Reality Red Team, you know-in the interest of full disclosure, ”and I personally hold the record for breaking the most noses.”
Okay. So I didn't add that those noses I referred to belonged to my teammates.
”And that's supposed to...what? Intimidate me? Scare me? Oooh. I'm so scared!” She put her hands on her hips. ”Are we playing or not?”
I could see the tweets now: Trekkie Tressa Turns Tail. Reality Red Rules the Ride. Small-town Grill and Chill Goes Bust.
”I don't think that would be-”
”Team Trekkie accepts the challenge.” Taylor announced. I turned to stare at her.
”What are you doing?” I asked.
”Defending the good name of my state and looking out for the family, of course.”
”The family? Who are you? Michael Corleone? Well, just so we're clear. Keelie made me an offer I can refuse. And need I remind you, you were the one who advised me to back off, be the bigger person, turn the other cheek-”
”Since when have you ever listened to me? You're planning to start now?”
She had a point.
”Seven sharp. And don't be late!” Keelie warned and moved off with her fan club.
I collapsed on the tailgate again.
”We'll have to field a team,” Taylor said.
”How many do we need?”
”Well, they have Keelie, Jax, Tiara, and knowing them, they'll stack the course with ringers.
Great. Reporter-to-biker-to-volleyball recruiter. It just kept getting better and better.
”Who do we have so far?” Dixie asked.
”Well, there's you, me, Tressa, Frankie.”
Dixie shook her head. ”Count Frankie out. The last time we played volleyball, he just stood there with his hands over his head like he was bracing for impact.”
”What about Van Vleet?” Taylor asked. ”I can't see him pa.s.sing up the opportunity to play sand volleyball with Keelie and Kompany.”
Knowing Van Vleet, he'd throw the match for the other team.
”How about Patrick? Is he available?” Dixie asked.
I felt a pinch on my arm. ”Don't say it, Tressa!” Taylor hissed.
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