“Uh, sure, but I think it’s provided by the school, so maybe I’ll buy you dinner,” I say wryly.
“Wicked, it’s a date,” he says, taking my hand and hurrying me along the path.
Making it to the first tent, the grandeur of it amazes me. Snowy-white linens veil the tables. The chairs are also covered in white linen, which are tied with black satin sashes. Elaborate flower centerpieces adorn the tables and, in the middle of the tent, a large crystal chandelier hangs radiantly over our heads.
Russell gives a low whistle, “Y’all put a new spin on the word barbecue,” he says as he places one of his large hands on the small of my back, leading me toward the line of banquet tables. Handing me a plate, we walk together through the maze of food.
When our plates are full, we shuffle past several tables of diners, toward the back of the tent where there is still available seating. As we near a table that is crammed with athletic looking guys, I hear them trading insults with one another as they scarf down enough food to feed a small village.
One of them, noticing Russell and me, lets out a loud wolf whistle. “Hey, Russell, where’re you going?” Russell ignores him as he ushers me by the rowdy table. “Who’s your friend with the legs?” he calls after us as we continue on. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”
Smirking over his shoulder, Russell calls back, “Naw, Mason, she’s much too clever for ya.”
Blushing, I scan the tables ahead for a couple of empty chairs. “Friends of yours?” I ask Russell with a raise of my eyebrow. “Do you want to sit with them? I can find somewhere else to sit.”
“Naw,” he says swiftly.
“No, they’re not friends, or no, you don’t want to sit with them?” I ask, continuing to follow him away from the other table.
“No,” he says, “I don’t wanna sit with them, but they’re my crew. Well, some of ‘em are, anyway. Mason is on the team, along with a few of the other guys. The rest are from the dorm, Brady Hall. We’ve been chillin’ together most of the summer, since we had to be here for trainin’ camp. I could use a night off from them, if ya know what I mean.”
Spotting Freddie a few tables ahead of us, sitting alone, I call out to him as we approach. “Freddie! Hey, can we sit here with you?” I ask in relief at finally finding a seat.
As I set my plate down on the table next to where Freddie is sitting, I begin to pull the chair out when it is tugged out of my hand by Russell, who holds it out for me. “Wow,” I say in surprise, “a true southern gentlemen. You’re mother must be proud.”
“Yeah, she and my Auntie Emily worked on me for a while, tryin’ to get me to learn some manners, and eventually I caught on when I found out they weren’t gonna let me eat ‘til everyone was seated, and they wouldn’t sit down ‘til I pulled out their chairs for them. When yer fifteen, in the middle of a growth spurt, and havin’ just finished a gruelin’ practice, y’all will do just ‘bout anythin’ to get to the food,” Russell says with a laugh.
I laugh too, trying to imagine him at fifteen. He was probably tall and lanky with sharp elbows. He’s not lanky anymore, I think as I covertly assess him. His large frame is filling out the chair, making the chair look delicate by comparison. He looks rugged and maybe a little dangerous, but his dimples offset his powerful physique, making the total package very attractive.
“You’re Russell Marx,” Freddie says next to me as he addresses my dinner companion. “You’re the new quarterback the Chargers just recruited!” he goes on excitedly, and I remember my manners just then.
“I’m sorry, Russell, this is Freddie Standish. Freddie, well, it seems you already know this is Russell,” I explain.
“Aren’t you supposed to be the king of the ‘Hail Mary’ or something like that?” Freddie says to Russell.
“Yeah, well, yes and no. I had a great receiver on my high school team by the name of Wes Larson. Now, Wes was the fastest runner in four counties, and he had hands that could catch any slop I threw. I just had to launch the ball down the field, and damn if that kid didn’t just fly to the other end of the field to get it. Ya see, there’re really only two things ya need for a Hail Mary to be effective: one, ya need a fast receiver, and two, one of these.” As he says this, he pulls out a small metal medallion from his pocket; it’s a Mary medallion.
“See here,” Russell goes on, “in order for the Hail Mary to work properly, ya have to have her on yer side,” he says grinning, showing all of his perfectly straight, white teeth. “This one was a gift from my team.”
I must have a strange look on my face because Russell adds, “Don’t tell me yer an atheist, Red.”
“No, I’m not an atheist,” I reply quietly—my head is spinning.
I have the strangest feeling now. It’s like I’ve met Russell somewhere before——like I know him——but not just know him——it’s something more. He smiles at me, and I feel it again, it’s a distant sort of recognition. Maybe I had read something on the Crestwood website about him, but that doesn’t seem to be it. I think about it through dessert and well into our discussion about the next day’s registration.
I relax in my seat, listening contentedly to Russell and Freddie talk about the football team’s chances this season. Looking over at one of the tent flaps, I notice that the sun is just about to set. “It’s getting dark outside,” I say. “Does anyone know how we’re supposed to get home from here? Are we walking back?”
“No,” Freddie says as he gets up from his seat. “I think they chartered some buses for us to ride back. I heard them pulling up outside when we were getting dessert.”
I start to stand, picking up my bag, and find my chair being drawn back from the table for me. “Thank you,” I say to Russell, trying not to stare into his face, which is becoming more attractive to me by the second. “I think I’ll go and see if I can locate the bathroom before we leave.”
“I’ll go save some seats on the bus for us. I’ll see you over there,” Freddie says, nodding his head in the direction of the front of the tent.
“Thanks, Freddie.” I watch him walk away in that direction.
“The bathroom’s not a bad call, I’ll go with ya, Red,” Russell says.
We walk over to one of the tent flaps near the back of the tent and out into the twilight. We are very near the water now, and the breeze carries with it a balmy scent that is a mixture of the water plants that surround the lake and the water itself. Following the path away from the lake, we locate a small brick building that serves as a public restroom. When I come back out, I see Russell waiting for me a short distance away, on the path back to the lake.
“You waited for me,” I say, a bit in surprise.
“Well, yeah,” he grins, “we can’t have ya walkin’ alone out here at night in such a shady part of town. There could be any number of Crestwood gang bangers ‘round here just waitin’ to jump out at ya from the brush,” Russell says outlandishly.
Sweeping his arm around in a wide, arching motion, he seems to be highlighting the fact that we are completely alone out here. Sensing that his argument is flimsy at best, he flashes his dimples at me and says, “Now, c’mon. The buses are fixin’ to leave without us, and then I’ll be forced to defend ya all the way back to the dorms.” Taking my hand in his, we begin strolling back toward the tents.