Citrus County by John Brandon

Author:John Brandon
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: For the Benefit of Mr. Kite
Published: 2009-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

The opening game of the season was a breeze. After the final buzzer, the other coach approached Mr. Hibma affably. He was encouraged by how good Mr. Hibma’s team was, optimistic that they could beat his rival, the coach at Springstead Middle.

“Hell,” Mr. Hibma said. “We’re going to whip Pasco.”

“I can’t beat him myself,” said the other coach. “I’m writing this year off. I’m starting a lawn service.”

“How does one go about starting a lawn service?”

“You need a big truck and an open trailer. Then you need the mowers and shit. You need a couple guys to work in the sun.”

“And this will enable you to quit teaching?”

“That’s the fantasy. Yesterday I picked up the magnet for the truck door: Sunrise Lawn Management.”

Mr. Hibma stepped over to his team’s cooler and filled two cups with iced tea. He handed one to the other coach. Mr. Hibma knew there were ways out of teaching, but he’d never pursue any of them. That was part of what he had to admit to himself, that he wasn’t the kind of person who started his own business or went to night school. He didn’t hustle.

“Let me ask you something,” Mr. Hibma said. “You don’t seem interested enough in girls’ middle school basketball to have a rival.”

The guy swished some tea around in his mouth. “Has nothing to do with basketball,” he said. “The coach at Springstead is an old friend of my wife’s, and he told her about some of us going to a strip club on teacher planning day.”

“What a dick,” Mr. Hibma said.

The guy nodded, downing the rest of his tea, getting slightly worked up. “He’s the one who invited me. You know? He invited me.”

“We’ll shut them out,” Mr. Hibma assured him. “We won’t let them score a point.”

He held his cup aloft, though it was empty, and the other coach matched the gesture.

Mr. Hibma went to the locker room to address his team. Not much needed to be said. He told them not to get tendonitis patting themselves on the back, that their fitness still wasn’t up to snuff. He explained to them, because something had to be said about Rosa and Sherrie’s disregard for his rules concerning personal appearance, that he was instituting a double-standard: Rosa and Sherrie could look however they chose. Life was full of double standards, he told the girls. They should get used to it.

On the way home, Mr. Hibma stopped at the video store. He wanted a porn movie. He’d been unable, lately, to masturbate, and he’d decided to leave all subtlety by the wayside, to stare at slick bodies as they slapped together, to listen to heavily eye-shadowed women shriek. He’d crank the volume on his TV until the shrieking drowned out the barking of any dogs.

Mr. Hibma proceeded to the back of the video store. He nudged through a pair of saloon doors and into the adult room. He’d never been in it before. There was no one else in the room, so Mr.

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