I had the hots for my grandpa’s girlfriend. Yeah, it was weird.
Look, hear me out. My grandpa’s loaded, okay? Like, he owns The Buckaneers. The entire team. He takes me to games all the time, and even though I don’t care about football I go because, hey, cheerleaders.
Problem is, one of those cheerleaders is her. My grandpa’s … yeah.
So here I am, sitting next to my grandad, trying to keep this bucket of popcorn steady on my lap while Janelle flashes her legs right in front of me. Of course he gets the seats right behind the cheerleaders. He’s a perv, and as gross as it is I’d do the same thing, even at his age.
“Stop spilling the popcorn,” Grandpa barks at me, eyes on Janelle’s legs. I try to hold the tub flat. Janelle is thrown in the air and caught by her squadmates. Her skirt flies straight up. So do I.
“Nice lookin’ girls, eh?” Grandpa says, elbowing my shoulder. The popcorn tub tips over and I spill half of it trying to hold it steady.
I wish any of the other girls were half as hot as Janelle. I mean, they were hot–they were cheerleaders, for god’s sake–but they just didn’t have the same thing. Guess that’s why Janelle’s captain.
“Is Janelle going for dinner with us after the show?” I asd Grandpa, avoiding his question.
“Damn straight,” he replies.
I pressed my knees together. She always wore skirts even shorter than her cheerleader getup when we went out. I knew she wore that kinda stuff for me. She knew how I looked at her. She smiled at me all the time. She knew.
Then the cheerleaders–Janelle included–retreated to wherever cheerleaders go during game time, and a buncha sweaty slabs of meat threw themselves at each other for a while. Grandpa roared at his team, jabbing me in the arm every time somebody did something, whether score or block or hit or scrimmage or whatever the hell went on in these games. My arm was always black and blue the day after a game. But I always went.
My mom would tell my dad that Janelle was just using my grandpa. Dad would say he was using her, so everybody got what they wanted. I’m not stupid–I know what grandpa wanted Janelle for. I wanted the same. But I don’t think she was just in the relationship for grandpa’s generosity where money was concerned. I like to think she’s in it to get closer to me.
Dream on. I know.
But again–the problem is, I can’t get the image of her with Grandpa out of my head. It’s almost enough to keep the popcorn tub flat. Almost.
Halftime. Janelle is back and the popcorn is almost out. But Grandpa is still reaching for it.
Today’s three categories were, “A pirate! Yar!,” “A cheerleading squad,” and “Grandpa’s girlfriend.”
I had to quickly Google to see if there was a Pirate team. Apparently there’s a baseball team with that name, but I don’t think baseball has cheerleaders. So I looked up Buccaneers. Perfect.
Kind of a gross story, but I couldn’t really help it with those prompts. That’s my excuse and I’m stickin’ to it.