theme park, and as usual the college kids had it pegged.
People of every description were milling around the dam, waiting their turn to slide into the rushing current. The sliders ranged from skinny to fat, young to old and tattooed to buff. And from the looks of things they were having a good time.
One by one the campers hopped out of the inner tubes and scampered up the bank to the picnic area—food first, sliding later. It was amazing to see the way they could ditch their streetwise bravado and enjoy being kids. If that feeling could be captured and made to last, the juvenile criminal justice system would shut down.
Unfortunately, these idyllic days were limited, outnumbered by others filled with drive-by shootings, welfare and rap sheets. But life was impossible to predict. By all rights, Jake should be doing twenty to life in Huntsville instead of being on a first-name basis with the movers and shakers of Houston. Destiny was a capricious bitch and he hoped that in some small way this time at Camp Touchdown could turn these kids around.
The picnic was an orgy of potato chips, hamburgers, hot dogs, Cokes, homemade peach ice cream and chocolate-covered s’mores. It wasn’t fancy or classy but it tasted better than any five-star fare. That cinched it; Jake was a big kid at heart.
With three burgers and almost a gallon of ice cream in his gut, Jake figured a nap was exactly what the doctor ordered so he stretched out under a leafy pecan tree. If CiCi needed him, she’d holler.
Chapter Nine
“It’s time to earn your keep, big guy.” Jake woke to the sound of CiCi’s voice and the feel of her toe nudging his knee. Sugar Plum joined the fun by giving him a slurpy dog kiss. Yeew! Jake wiped his face with the hem of his T-shirt. That dog was a big drool machine.
“You’re not supposed to exercise after eating. It’ll give you cramps,” he replied, not bothering to raise the brim of his cap.
“Oh, please. That’s just an old wives’ tale.” CiCi sounded so annoyed he opened his eyes. She was darned cute all puffed up with righteous indignation.
“What do you need, boss lady?” Jake couldn’t resist a grin.
She nudged him again, a little less gently this time. “I think we should play tag football. Come on, be a sport. You can choose your own team. I’ll pick mine.” That piqued his interest. Jake sat up, returning his baseball cap to its proper position.
“You don’t look like a jock to me.”
Her innocent “who me?” grin was a dead giveaway. It was a good thing he could spot a shark a mile away. He stood to take full advantage of his size.
“So I get first choice, right?”
“Nope, ladies first.”
His intuition was bang on. She’d been scouting while he napped. But he didn’t intend to lose. Wile and cunning counted for a lot in football. And he was pretty good at ferreting out talent, even if he did say so himself.
“Okay, princess. You pick first. But you didn’t answer my question about being a jock.” He wanted to know up front what he was facing.
CiCi’s grin went from innocent to wicked. “I played NCAA Division I volleyball. I even made it to the Olympic trials.” She shrugged. “I didn’t make it, but hey, that’s world-class sports. And you should never underestimate the power of a determined woman.”
Jake had learned that lesson the hard way, starting with his mom and continuing with groupies wanting him to auto graph their unmentionables.
CiCi waved at a group of kids waiting on the field. “They’re ready for us. Remember, I get first pick. And you have to choose some girls. No one gets left out.”
“I got it.” Jake lagged a few steps behind. The view of her rear was stupendous. Jake considered himself a connoisseur of fine derrieres, and hers was mighty fine. In his opinion, legs were eye-catching and breasts were enticing, but there wasn’t anything like a firm, round butt.
Oh, man! That kind of thinking was gonna get him into a world of hurt.
People of every description were milling around the dam, waiting their turn to slide into the rushing current. The sliders ranged from skinny to fat, young to old and tattooed to buff. And from the looks of things they were having a good time.
One by one the campers hopped out of the inner tubes and scampered up the bank to the picnic area—food first, sliding later. It was amazing to see the way they could ditch their streetwise bravado and enjoy being kids. If that feeling could be captured and made to last, the juvenile criminal justice system would shut down.
Unfortunately, these idyllic days were limited, outnumbered by others filled with drive-by shootings, welfare and rap sheets. But life was impossible to predict. By all rights, Jake should be doing twenty to life in Huntsville instead of being on a first-name basis with the movers and shakers of Houston. Destiny was a capricious bitch and he hoped that in some small way this time at Camp Touchdown could turn these kids around.
The picnic was an orgy of potato chips, hamburgers, hot dogs, Cokes, homemade peach ice cream and chocolate-covered s’mores. It wasn’t fancy or classy but it tasted better than any five-star fare. That cinched it; Jake was a big kid at heart.
With three burgers and almost a gallon of ice cream in his gut, Jake figured a nap was exactly what the doctor ordered so he stretched out under a leafy pecan tree. If CiCi needed him, she’d holler.
Chapter Nine
“It’s time to earn your keep, big guy.” Jake woke to the sound of CiCi’s voice and the feel of her toe nudging his knee. Sugar Plum joined the fun by giving him a slurpy dog kiss. Yeew! Jake wiped his face with the hem of his T-shirt. That dog was a big drool machine.
“You’re not supposed to exercise after eating. It’ll give you cramps,” he replied, not bothering to raise the brim of his cap.
“Oh, please. That’s just an old wives’ tale.” CiCi sounded so annoyed he opened his eyes. She was darned cute all puffed up with righteous indignation.
“What do you need, boss lady?” Jake couldn’t resist a grin.
She nudged him again, a little less gently this time. “I think we should play tag football. Come on, be a sport. You can choose your own team. I’ll pick mine.” That piqued his interest. Jake sat up, returning his baseball cap to its proper position.
“You don’t look like a jock to me.”
Her innocent “who me?” grin was a dead giveaway. It was a good thing he could spot a shark a mile away. He stood to take full advantage of his size.
“So I get first choice, right?”
“Nope, ladies first.”
His intuition was bang on. She’d been scouting while he napped. But he didn’t intend to lose. Wile and cunning counted for a lot in football. And he was pretty good at ferreting out talent, even if he did say so himself.
“Okay, princess. You pick first. But you didn’t answer my question about being a jock.” He wanted to know up front what he was facing.
CiCi’s grin went from innocent to wicked. “I played NCAA Division I volleyball. I even made it to the Olympic trials.” She shrugged. “I didn’t make it, but hey, that’s world-class sports. And you should never underestimate the power of a determined woman.”
Jake had learned that lesson the hard way, starting with his mom and continuing with groupies wanting him to auto graph their unmentionables.
CiCi waved at a group of kids waiting on the field. “They’re ready for us. Remember, I get first pick. And you have to choose some girls. No one gets left out.”
“I got it.” Jake lagged a few steps behind. The view of her rear was stupendous. Jake considered himself a connoisseur of fine derrieres, and hers was mighty fine. In his opinion, legs were eye-catching and breasts were enticing, but there wasn’t anything like a firm, round butt.
Oh, man! That kind of thinking was gonna get him into a world of hurt.
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