Battle Factory

Franklin Pierce was on the prowl for some young blood. In his mid-thirties, Pierce was way too old to be hooking up at a college bar, but he was as fit and trim as a college athlete and it didn’t hurt that he was good looking. His small stature and boyish looks helped him to fit right in with the young college students from Oregon State University who were looking to unwind at O’Malley’s pub after a stressful day of school.

As he sat sipping an oatmeal stout inside a small Irish pub decorated in rich mahogany tones and brown Irish whiskey bottles, Franklin chatted it up with a baby-faced kid named Charles. Charles was tall and thin, and his thick wiry hair stood as stiff as Bermuda grass. He wore a bright orange tee shirt bearing the emblem of a beaver, mascot of the university football team.

The lanky kid and Franklin were discussing whether or not the Beavers would beat the Ducks in the annual Civil War game this year. They hadn’t won in years, and it didn’t look like they were going to this year either. But Franklin couldn’t care less about that. What he was really doing was scanning the faces of the patrons. Talking to the kid was merely a ploy to make him look like a sociable fellow and less like a predator on the prowl.

From across the room, Franklin caught the eye of a pretty blonde. There was something about her face that he rather liked. Her honey-colored hair fell past her shoulders and landed on a smallish bosom. Franklin smiled at her, the corner of his mouth inducing a dimple as deep as a canyon. He glanced away and watched the large flatscreen hanging on the wall above the bar.

Two lawnmower-sized remote-controlled robots, driving around inside a caged arena, were bashing the shit out of each other with actuated arms. One of them burst into flames and started chugging black smoke. Franklin chuckled as the winner did victory laps around the burning wreck, slashing the air with its buzzsaw arm.

Glancing back at the blonde, Franklin saw her lean over and say something to her friend who, in turn, stole a look at him. That was always a good sign. He turned to his bar-buddy still going on about the Beavers and their need for a new defensive coordinator.

“You want to go to a party?” Franklin asked.

“Huh?” The kid looked surprised by the sudden change in topic.

“Bartender,” Franklin said, getting his attention. “Two drinks for the ladies by the door.”

Franklin pointed across the room at the two women. The bartender nodded and went to work. The kid also looked, and his mouth spawned a massive smile.

“Let me do the talking,” Franklin said.

“Whatever you say, coach,” Charles replied and slid off the stool.

Two drinks landed on coasters like a pair of SpaceX rocket boosters. The kid grabbed them and followed Franklin, who was carrying their beers. Franklin held the bottles in front of him as if he were holding onto a steering wheel, driving his way through a room crowded with tables.

Seeing them coming, the girls leaned into each other and started giggling. Franklin stepped aside, allowing the kid to move past him. Charles set the drinks down on the table, which already had half-finished drinks set out in front of each woman. Franklin handed Charles his beer.

“You ladies order a couple of drinks?” Franklin asked, showing off his bright white teeth.

The young ladies didn’t respond but just sat there. The guys waited for a long moment, not saying anything, as if they were waiting for a traffic light to turn green. Finally, the blonde sighed and waved a hand towards two empty chairs.

“Okay. Sit. But when the drinks are gone, so are you.”

“Don’t be rude, Natty. They seem like nice guys,” the friend said, smiling at Charles.

“It’s all good,” Franklin said. “Just don’t drink too fast.”

Franklin took a seat next to the blonde and did a quick assessment of her friend. She had light brown hair that framed an oval face that was nearly as pretty as Natty. He glanced at her muscular body and suspected she worked out a lot. Regardless, she was the perfect size.

“I’m Franklin and this is my pal, Charles.” Franklin said, gesturing to the kid who was sitting next to the girlfriend. “We’re engineering majors.”

The kid smiled and gave them a quick wave. Unsure of what to say, he took a nervous sip of beer. His Adam’s apple did jumping jacks as he swallowed down some fortitude.

“You’ll have to excuse Charles, he gets a bit tongue tied around the ladies,” Franklin said. Then he added conspiratorially, “though he did confide in me that he’s a huge fan of the Beavers.”

The kid spit beer down his chin. The girls cackled at him.

“I couldn’t tell by his tee shirt,” the friend said, giggling.

“Natty,” the pretty blonde said to Franklin. “Aerospace engineering. I’m into rocket engines.”

“Kat. I’m her big sister from Portland.” She smiled at the kid. “I like rockets too.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “She drove down here to check up on me.”

“No … I came down to have fun,” said Katrina. She sipped her drink. “This is a party town, isn’t it, Charles?” Katrina patted the kid’s knobby knee.

Charles arched his eyebrows and nodded his head in an exaggerated motion. Painfully self-conscious, he took another long swig of his beer.

Franklin remembered that age; how uncomfortable he was in his own skin. Now his gabbing came as naturally as his good looks did.

“What’s the matter Charles? Your face is red,” Katrina said.

Charles looked over at Franklin with eyes that said, help me.

Franklin chuckled. “Poor kid’s suffering from the most dreaded of sexual diseases.”

They ladies waited to hear the answer. Charles fired a harsh look at Franklin.

“He’s a virgin,” Franklin said flatly.

Katrina exploded with laughter. The kid’s face turned even redder, and he sneered at Franklin through narrow slits.

Katrina patted the kid’s leg. “You should really fix that.”

“He does need a ride home,” Franklin said, arching his eyebrows up and down.

“Is that right?” Katrina said as she looked over the skinny kid with her traveling eyes.

“It’s past his curfew,” Franklin added. “His mother will be worried.”

The kid glared back at Franklin. “I have my own room, thank you.”

“Oh, really?” Katrina turned to her sister, “Do you mind?”

Natasha’s eyes went wide. “What?! We just got here.”

“Have a heart, Natty... he looks like he’s ready to pop,” Katrina said as she rubbed the kid’s upper thigh.

“How will I get home? Don’t think I’m riding with him,” Natasha said, pointing her chin at Franklin.

“Hey, I’ll have you know I’m a Hop-In driver in my spare time,” Franklin said.

“That makes me feel so much better,” Natasha said sarcastically. “Sorry, but I’ve heard too many horror stories about rideshare drivers,” she said. “They’re rape-mobiles.”

There was a moment of silence as Natasha studied her drink and rotated it on the table between her long, delicate fingers. Franklin watched Katrina make goo-goo eyes at the skinny kid. He sighed. That’s when he realized, why not all three?

“Hey! You guys want to go to my place?” Franklin asked.

Katrina perked up. “A party?”

“I don’t live far away and there’s plenty of room in my Tesla,” Franklin said.

“Ohhh … a Tesla! They’re so sexy.” Katrina turned to her sister. “What do you say, Natty?”

Natasha frowned at her big sister who was leaning her head against the kid’s shoulder.

“The three of us could take him on,” the kid said. “You know, if he tried anything.”

Franklin nodded. “Kid’s got a point. Anyway, you don’t have to worry. I’m a nice guy. Promise.”

Natasha shot Katrina a disapproving look. “I thought you wanted to hang out tonight?”

“I do! But … you know,” she said as she grabbed Charles’s hand with her own and pressed it against her bosom. Beads of sweat broke out on this kid’s forehead. He was obviously excited.

“Sorry I’m such a bore,” Natasha said, rolling her eyes. A moment passed, and she sighed heavily. “Okay, fine. But we leave at ten. I have classes in the morning.”

“Hooray!” Katrina said, brightening up. “Let’s party!"