"No big drug parties."
The rain kept falling outside the tiny rectangular window. Edwards and I managed to find a sparsely occupied corner of the local pizza shop where we could order some quarts of Killian's Irish Red and sip against the beating rain and wind. The pace was beginning to pick up from a combination of the constant overcast humidity that drizzled and the background mixture of Radiohead playing softly over the neon jukebox by the entrance. Time was closing in on the meeting with this particular cop and that only increased the level of FEAR and DREAD nagging at the edges of my consciousness.
"How much time are we looking at," poured the question slowly from my mouth? Hovering for seconds above the laminated table and then disappearing into the thickening cloud of cigarette smoke enveloping us. A conversation was forming from two distinct dialogues of total miscommunication.
Edwards peered over the amber filling the plastic quart cup, "Almost an hour or so. It's only up the street and we're driving." This statement's addition, as if it could wipe away the DREAD still nibbling around my thoughts, seemed another attempt to bring back a relaxed mood. The mood that grew even fiercer, feeding off the speeding chemicals like some bizarre mental rodent burrowed deeply into my skull. DREAD took hold and dug its sharp teeth more ravenously into the thoughts spiraling out of control. How long was the muggy drizzle intent on over-casting our feelings? A few hours until the extent of this rain delay was examined for glimpses, fragments, or phrases of truth.
"Hey, guys. What are you doing out in this weather," came a distinctly provocative and purely feminine voice over the fading sound of Radiohead and the muffled conversations. I looked up quickly, startled by the quick movement of Edwards to his feet, to blast both eyes fully on the radiant glow of two lips looped upward in a huge smile.
"Good to see you," piped Edwards with a mammoth hug that brought our newest arrival a few inches off the floor. Oh, the word company seems such a strange word for a dismal day filled by saturating rain and lamenting DREAD. However, I could sense that Amy's arrival was a portent. A break in the haze that was developing between us, an adhesive with long brown hair and a pair of sparkling eyes, a universal solvent.
"You need a beer," I asked while waiting for the extra long hug performance to come to a close? "Quart of Killian's alright?"
"Yeah. That'd be great, Harley. I could use a couple," she smiled over Edwards's shoulder. Making my way to the beer spout, I could sense a definite change in the collective mood. I felt a foreign feeling spread across my face. Was that a smile on a day filled with beer robberies and cop encounters? A definite change was coming on quick and the congealing colors swirling about in the background were as much help in discerning the nature of it all as the foamy quarts themselves. Bumping between Greeks and through laughter-soaked conversations, I finally arrived with the majority of the three drinks intact. Amy hopped up with more energy than necessary, bounding off of the seat like a coiled wire no sooner than I placed the beers on the table. "It's so good to see you guys," she sang full of true happiness at seeing the remnants of what were formerly two normal men.
We were slowly gaining attention around the bar. I could see the long glances in our direction at the extremely affectionate gathering we were facilitating amidst the smoke and water puddles. "So, what are you guys up to," she asked still brimming.
"Well, Harley and I are signing on a lease in about fifteen minutes and then we're wide open," went Edwards chuckling. The addition of Amy's infectious attitude was evident in the color returning to both cheeks. A color I neglected to notice most of the day.
"Great. Party central for next year I suppose," she added with a huge smile.
"That's right," I piped in jovially. "The safe port in the storm for the summer and then some. Well, what are you getting into, Amy?"
"Hopefully mischief. Some of my suite mates are gonna meet me out soon . . . It's Thursday and all."
I'd almost forgotten that imminently important piece of information. It was Thursday. The holiest day of the week in the college bar circuit. "We need to put a pre-Pub party together, Edwards."
"Giddy-up. I like the way you're thinking. A power hour and then some before it's bar time. Are you in, Amy?"
"I'm game," she smiled. "I'll tell the girls and get in touch with Red."
"Outstanding. This calls for a toast," I perked up. "To party."
And in unison we all added, "'Til you puke."
"Well, guys. Do you need anything for the party?"
"Harley, we got everything?"
"I believe you know the answer to that question, bubba."
"Yeah, we'll get the keg after our little meeting. Which reminds me. Damn, Amy, we gotta get going."
"Oh, guys. But I just got here."
"Listen. We'll make up for it tonight."
"You guys promise?"
"Promise," we smiled in unison. Draining the remains of the quarts in question and picking up the next round.
"You just bring your sexy self and the good times. We'll supply the party favors," Edwards giggled out.
Walking towards the door, Edwards turned and added with a smile, "Over and up." The rain outside was persistent. The concrete sidewalk responded to each step like an over-gorged sponge squirting tiny streams. We piled into the 300 and Edwards set us barreling down the small alley. Shooting past a stop sign on a vacant street and a group of pledges doing a calisthenics routine in the front yard of the Delta Chi house. At these speeds, at such close quarters, holding on to both quarts was an intense action of direct will power.
"What did I tell you, man? Over and up," Edwards emphasized the final portion with a downshift. "You know what I like in a girl?"
"You," I laughed. "And besides that, alcohol's a good start."
"That's what I love about these chicks," he shouted.
Two blocks of back alley driving can turn an already bent mind on an axis. Spin it around in directions never imagined by even the most devout theoretical mathematician. "Are we late," I gasped when Edwards brought the 300 to rest in a small gravel parking lot behind the apartment complex.
"Early. Too early from what it seems." A hush fell over the passenger compartment. Were we too early, I wondered, however, we had plenty of beer at the moment. Was this yet another cruel, sick, and twisted joke from the combination of the chemicals and the total lack of directional sense exhibited by my companion. In either case, time slowly flowed around my body. Clinging to my BDU top, slipping into each of its pockets, and, finally, swimming back on a silent breeze. Then it happened. The state police cruiser pulled in down the alley and parked directly behind the 300.
"That's it. The acid is definitely taking a left turn for the worse," I shouted in a garbled tone of gibberish. "The cop's called the cops on us."
Edwards turned his head slowly to fix that dumb-founded gaze squarely on my forehead. "That's the landlord, man. Put the beer in the cup holder. Over and up."
The landlord, I thought. I remembered something about meeting a cop and another scrap about needing an apartment for the summer, however, the two didn't quite add to any conclusive sum. I pulled the Tech ball cap tightly down on my head and exited the 300. The gusting wind and the constant rain battered my cheeks as I followed Edwards to the police cruiser. If this isn't the most unholy of warnings, I thought, as the passenger side window of the cruiser came down.
"Hey, boys, jump in the back. I'm in a bit of a hurry," sang the tenor voice through the window. Not exactly a voice that strikes terror into the hearts of the criminally deranged, I supposed. The rear door creaked open as Edwards hopped in, like getting into the back of a police cruiser under your own power was the most natural of human tendencies. So, feeling the push of the moment and the over-whelming burden of the quarts fueling my garbled brain, I followed and slammed the door shut.
"Hey, you don't mind? It's just I'm on my way to start a shift and this was the easiest way. All right then, here's a copy of the agreement for both of you. While you look them over I just want to run over the short of the agreement." We both took a copy of the ten pages stapled together in the upper left-hand corner.
"Alright, the short of it then. I understand you want the apartment for the summer, too. That'll cost you each an additional fifty bucks. The rent is either due each month or you can pay by semester. The summer rent is due before you can move anything in," he melodiously chanted like he'd written this song years ago and was performing it on his final farewell concert tour. "I'd say the first of June is the earliest you can start moving anything. No dogs and no big drug parties."
Edwards and I turned to look at each other, grins widening on both of our faces and blooming into full-fledged smiles. With a hearty laugh the cop added, "It's not to say you can have small drug parties but I always call first before I come over."