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Chapter 12: Tough Guy
 By Jim Caple |
Previously at 24 College Avenue: Jenn Robbins has lost her log-standing gig as Bubby the Red Devil mascot due to slamming into Golden State University quarterback Simeon Hearst with the Bubby-Mobile during a game. The quarterback has sued both State College and Jenn for $100 million in potential lost earnings as a pro football player. . . .
The bicyclists raced down the icy hill, screaming into the intersection and leaning their bikes seemingly to the pavement as they took a sharp right turn down the street. Or at least, some of the cyclists did. Many wound up sliding into the hay bales and guard barrels that had been set up on the sidewalk, their hips, elbows, thighs and tailbones growing painful crimson rashes in the process.
“Go, Wes! Go!’’ Jenn shouted as her boyfriend and the rest of the cyclists pumped furiously away for the final lap.
There might be unlikelier ways to meet a boyfriend than to have him serve you with a summons to testify at a deposition but given the way Jenn’s love life had gone the past couple years, she was hardly in a position to complain about a lack of romance.
So when Wes Port insisted that he was serious about going out on a date the afternoon he delivered the summons as part of his job as a bike messenger, Jenn decided to take him up on the offer. It’s not as if there had been a long string of boys delivering rose bouquets to her. Besides, as Wes explained, “Don’t blame me, I’m just the messenger.’’ She couldn’t help laughing when he said, though she suspected it was a line that he used several times a day.
Wes took Jenn out to the best dinner she had eaten in months and was refreshingly polite the entire date. He held the doors open for her, listened with real interest to her end of the conversation, walked her to the door and attempted no more than a kiss when theys aid good night (it was Jenn who escalated the contact). The relationship had grown quickly from there.
For the first time since dating Josh in high school Jenn had both the time and the partner for an honest to God boyfriend. Losing the mascot gig was difficult but it did provide her with many free evenings and weekends to be with Wes, and he in turn helped her forget the pain of her dismissal. There were moments when Jenn actually felt happy that she wasn’t the Red Devil any longer. The only drawbacks were that losing the Red Devil gig pretty much dashed her hopes of winning the mascot national championship at the end of the year. And no matter how happy Wes made her, she was periodically reminded of the lawsuit hanging over her head.
As awful as Jenn felt about what happened, as guilty as she felt about the injury she had caused, she still had no idea what she would do if Simeon Hearst won his $100 million lawsuit. A lawyer had assured her that she was at no risk, that Hearst probably would not win, but that even if he did prevail, State College would be the one paying up because the university had the money and she did not. “They’re not going to go after a poor college student trying desperately (and failing) to make ends meet as a barista at the Java Monkey,’’ the lawyer said. “If you don’t have any money, they can’t make you pay.’’
This made Jenn feel only slightly better. Because while she was undoubtedly poor now, she had hopes of one day making a good living (though at what, she had no idea) and if she did, would Hearst or State College then seek money from her? Considering the litigious nature of America, it seemed most unlikely that she would be allowed to live a life of luxury without someone asking for a cut. Would she wind up an indentured servant the rest of her life due to one mistake?
Jenn wasn’t thinking about any of this at the moment, though. She was too caught up in the Winter Tough Guy Ride, the annual bike race held each January in State College no matter the weather.
The Rally had begun as a lark among a dozen or two local bike messengers a decade earlier but had become so infamous that it now attracted hundreds of competitors from around the state and country. The five-mile course ranged around the streets and occasionally steep hills of State College, most of them thick with traffic and slick with ice and snow. It also included a half-mile stretch of pure mud and a 50-yard stretch of waist-deep water; obstacles that required cyclists to carry their bikes. Each competitor had to be a certified bike messenger working at least 20 hours per week and they also had to carry a messenger bag loaded weighed down by a half-rack of beer.
Depending on the conditions, the race took up two to three hours to complete, and on days when the temperature fell into the single digits, many of the riders would wind up treated for hypothermia and frostbite in addition to broken bones and road rash. And yet despite all that, some of the cyclists rode the course in nothing more than bike shorts. The only prize was free entry for the winner into next year’s race.
When Jenn had asked Wes before the competition why anyone would risk their health for such a stupid race, he replied, “We’re bike messengers. We risk our lives everyday. So if I’m going to get hurt, I’d rather it happen doing something I actually want to do rather than when I’m on the job delivering divorce papers.’’
Well, as someone who had set herself on fire several times while leading cheers in a devil costume, Jenn could hardly argue with that logic. So she stood shivering in the cold snow, cheering her boyfriend on each time he passed.
Boyfriend. Jenn liked the sound of that. And as she waited for the final lap, she comforted herself in the cold with thoughts of warming Wes up after the race.
But when she glanced at the spectators across, the moment was ruined by who she saw.
Next: Winter Ball
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