by C.P. Kemabia
Justin tried Solene’s cell phone again. Still nothing, except her voice mail. Her snappy, rhyme-style delivery, prompted you to leave your name and phone number for her to call back. But Justin didn’t feel like leaving a message at all… He wanted to talk to her, not a goddamned answer machine.
Shortly after his conversation with Mr. Bagley, he had gone for a bus ride. He did that often to air his brains out; getting on random buses, and riding down to the last stop and back. But an hour or so later, he found himself walking a street he did not bother to identify. His eyes were opened to an existential truth he would have probably come to at a later stage of his teenage life. But thanks to the old man’s enlightenment, he was ahead of his time, ahead of his fellow peers whose boyish immaturity kept them from growing and achieving things worthy of men.
Kane, the de facto leader of the boy’s pack, was the exception, though. He knew things that men with swooning-lady awesomeness knew, all right (seriously, the guy had landed a hot date with Joanne Treece). And Justin felt good about himself, knowing he was entering some higher circles by being privy to an enlightening school of thought.
You must become a man…
That’s what he was thinking about over and over, while he was walking. At first it was an aimless walk, with his feet carrying him wherever they chose, at a pace that they pleased, randomly taking turns, but consciously avoiding grubby-looking streets. Then, after crossing two low-rent neighborhoods and a wide avenue, Justin quickly realized he was actually moving east, towards the Palladium Hotel where Jaime had a room.
Was Solene with him in that room right now? By foot, it’d take about two hours to get there. Justin pulled up short at a street corner. He’d resolved to drop in at the Palladium Hotel. Drop in and get Solene to leave with him.
And if I must play the third wheel to keep her from going through with her plan, so be it…
Justin thumbed his chin, sure of himself.
Go out there and make it happen for yourself.
Those words from Mr. Bagley kept playing in a loop, and puffed his chest with juvenile pride. But then again…What, am I going to tell her to change her mind? What do I have to offer? What if I can’t hold a candle to Jaime? His hand had become a fist. Christ, I’m silly…She likes him for a reason; because he’s older. Because, in her book, he’s a man, more manly than me, the kind of man she’s attracted to.
A group of tourists bumped past him, racing to catch an intercity bus that was just about to depart. One guy even smacked onto his shoulder, but raced on unapologetically. Justin barely looked at him. He just shrugged off the stranger’s rudeness and kept on walking.
He thought, One doesn’t become a man overnight; it takes time, I guess; time and a certain kind of insight.
He suddenly remembered when, as a kid, his mother often joked about how soon she’d start treating him like a man because of how fast he was growing. And knowing what he knew now, he figured that growing up was one thing. But being a man was something else entirely.
You know what that means?
Something in his subconscious kept asking, spurring his mind on a wild chase for answers. And as Justin meandered through a grid of streets, his thoughts flowing apace with the on-again off-again traffic, he suddenly felt distraught, as if lost at sea.
You know what that means?
He was back to step one, coming to terms with his inability to crack the full meaning of the words Mr. Bagley had spoken earlier. This was certainly a case of a meaning behind a meaning. A Russian-nesting-doll-type thing for double entente. He got very depressed by all that mental stuff, and especially by Solene’s unreachable status.
You know what that means?
At one point, he even felt like banging his head against a utility pole for about five minutes just to shut up that irritating voice. And maybe he would’ve done so if not for a nice lady driving a Ford Focus pulling up to the curb next to him to ask for directions to the nearest auto parts store around.
The lady looked a little distraught after Justin told her he did not know the neighborhood; maybe she had asked many pedestrians before him and had gotten a similar answer. She drove along with her eyes swinging back and forth looking for building signs on both sides of the road.
And Justin looked and shrugged and got a move on. He turned his mind away from going to the Palladium Hotel. He just didn’t feel confident enough to interfere at this point.
On the next block over, some big-boned fellow wearing a red apron was expertly grilling hotdogs in his food truck. A line of customers was waiting before the truck, and they were all looking on with relish as the sausages oozed a light yellow juice from the inside. Justin inhaled the wholesome cookout smell. Exactly the kind of food he needed to pound down his overwhelming depression. He got himself over there and waited in line to be served. Somewhere inside the food truck came a rackety, upbeat song, which really added to the general ambiance.
In the days of my youth, I was told what it means to be a man…
The aptly-timed lyrics rocked Justin’s brain loose. He recognized the music. It was Good Times, Bad Times –– a song by Led Zeppelin. Justin looked past the cook to where there was a radio set blasting the music and those lyrics.
When my woman left home for a brown-eyed man, well I still don’t seem to care…
When his turn came to order, Justin did so quickly. Strangely enough, the lyrics were working up his nerves, like acupuncture needles working up connected points of strain across the anatomy of a vital organ.
After paying the hotdog guy, Justin hurried away, not wanting to be confronted by what sounded like the story of his life. Yet the lyrics followed him:
She swore that she would be all mine and love me till the end…
Stuffing the hotdog into his mouth, Justin slipped back into the throng of people zipping up and down the sidewalk. From then on, he wandered about, passing storefronts, newsstands, and street vendors. The whole time, he was vaguely aware of the weight in his pocket: the golden ball. However, reaching inside that pocket and identifying whatever was in there didn’t seem paramount. What was paramount, was the fact that things all around him looked a little bit unreal, faint, as if slowly racking out of focus. He knew the reason for this uncanny phenomenon: his internal world was in total disarray. And indulging in a real good time was certainly what was needed to make it all right again.
At a street junction, the traffic light went red, stopping hasty automobiles and allowing Justin and other pedestrians to cross over. Halfway across the crosswalk, he saw something riveting on the opposite sidewalk. A neon sign bound with the display of a cross-legged, silhouetted, topless girl blowing a kiss.
‘Enter the Penthouse’
It said on the sign. The sign wasn’t lit, though. Justin hurried along. He had never been inside such a promiscuous establishment. Raw excitement built in his entire system. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect to give vent to growing desires, which, before this instant, were consciously relegated to a non-priority seat in the overall scheme of his life.
The heck with it! Justin thought.
His mind decidedly set, he headed into the Penthouse. The inside was grand and cool. About two dozen LED tables surrounded by an assortment of dark blue chairs decked the main space. The flooring gleamed rich, and additional stylish furnishings played up the upscale factor of the place. Justin loved its aqua themed design, and figured the underwater effect was probably beautiful once it kicked in at nighttime, with the strobe lights on and everything.
Save for a few employees scrubbing the drink-ware clean, stocking up on beer and booze, there were no people. It wasn’t open hours yet. Justin gazed at the staff (mostly cute girls in short shorts) hard at work. Either nobody had noticed him, or they just didn’t care if some kid was there.
Justin stepped over to the bar where a tough-looking man in a spread-collared raspberry shirt was on the phone. He didn’t look like he could be a barten
der. More like a manager or something. You could tell by the sapphire ring on his left pinky.
Spotting Justin approaching took him right out of his phone conversation and he made an annoyed face.
“Hey, excuse me––” Justin started. “You work here?”
The man peered at Justin with suspicion. He had a big wart on his cheek, and his double chin, along with sideburns extending down the curve of his jaw, made him look like a wicked pirate captain from old sea stories.
“Whaddaya want, fella?” Stone Bormann asked.
“I’m looking for a girl.” Justin said in all seriousness.
“What gal?” Stone had slightly turned the receiver away from his ear.
“Blonde… brunette… redhead. I’m not picky, as long as they’re good-looking.”
“Whah’s dat? Stone said, narrowing his eyes.
Justin leaned in a little closer so that no one else would hear.
He whispered, “I’m just looking for some action, you know?”
Stone took a moment to make sense of the situation.
“Can yuh believe this shit’s happenin’?” He grumbled to himself.
Then, with cursory annoyance, he croaked out briskly, “Buzz off, ‘fore Ah bounce yuh ass up outta here myself!”
Unfazed by the threat, Justin stood his ground.
“Wow… That’s no way to treat a customer… I mean, what if the manager ––”
“Are yuh cockface hard of hearin’ or just slow of hearin’?” Stone said again, menacingly waving the receiver at Justin like a wooden staff. “Ah said buzz de fuck off!”
Though a little browbeaten by the hostility in Stone’s voice, Justin risked yet another question.
“Are you the manager?”
“Motherfuck! An’ who da fuck’s askin’?”
“The name’s Justin, and I don’t mean to disrespect or anything.”
At first Stone said nothing. You could see he appreciated the concept of giving respect whenever due.
Finally, he said, lightening up a tad, “Look hard-on, dis ain’t no fuckin’ whorehouse, alright? This heah is a respect’ble business, with respect’ble girls, yuh got dat?”
Justin reckoned that unless he was taken seriously, this yackety-yakking talk was not going to get him anywhere. Suddenly, he remembered about the weird ball he’d found earlier. The Golden Ball… He felt inside his bulgy pocket, where the precious weight had been holed up. He grabbed the velvet jewelry pouch from the pocket, and got the golden ball out of it.
“Look, I have this ––”
Justin held his showpiece up between thumb and forefinger in front of Stone’s eyes to show he really meant business.
“See, I didn’t come in here empty-handed. I can pay!”
For several moments, Stone appeared to be under hypnosis, or maybe he was simply smitten by a transient force of a subliminal nature. Literally, he was marveling, mind-stunned and eyes wide as saucers, at the golden ball; at its mass of purity and unprecedented value. That thing was to be had, no matter what.
Into the phone receiver, Stone said, “Ahem –– Ah’ma call yuh ‘fore Ah come over.”
Then he hung up and extended his hand –– large veins knotted on its back –– to take the precious ball from Justin. Justin’s arm quickly drew back.
“Not so quick…”
Stone said, “Aight boy, yuh got my attention.”
“Can you find me a girl now?” Justin put the golden ball back inside the pouch.
“Yuh gotta let me take a look at it, first.”
“Let’s say I do,” Justin said, “and you just snatch it and then throw me out. And I don’t get what I want.”
Stone smiled curiously as if he had found a new interest in Justin as a friend.
“An’ whad exactly yuh wish to do with one of mah gals?”
The question took Justin by surprise, and for half a second the answer made him sort of blush. His intention of finally experiencing the carnal act of love in such an unprincipled way suddenly seemed wrong, even by his unorthodox standards. It wasn’t so much the idea of paying for sex that gave him qualms, but rather not having a loving partner to experience it with, especially for the first time.
The heck with it, he thought, squashing his qualms, and then jiggling the pouch by the little strings attached to it, he snapped back, “Look, do you want this thing or not?”
“Hah old are you, Don Juan?
“Why?” Justin said and stopped jiggling the pouch. “I’m old enough to be wanting a girl, a room, and some privacy.”
Stone jeered, nodding, his neck moving like a tortoise’s.
“Uh huh…aight.”
There was a Martini bottle and a tumbler sitting on the bar countertop. Stone helped himself to it.
“So whad is dis, huh? –– it’s your birthday or somethin’ and yuh lookin’ to pop your cherry, huh boy?”
“It’s not like that,” Justin said defensively. He didn’t want some shrewd-looking stranger to think he was a virgin. “Just looking to have some fun; that’s all.”
“Then how ‘bout a lap dance, instead?” Stone said after a quick pull at the Martini. “Mah gals heah know just about every fuckin’ move to get your juice pumpin’ hard down there. An’ whether or not yuh can get it up, a little grindin of their sweet ass against your nuts will fix yuh up all right. Trust me boy, they’re sterling that way. People come from all over town to get dat kind o’ therapy heah, yuh know.”
Justin shook his head.
“If I wanted to see some topless girl dance, there’s plenty of that on TV already.”
“It’s not dancing, boy,” Stone quickly corrected. “Lap dancing.”
“It’s not the same as –– real sex.”
“Yuh balls gonna explode all the same.”
Unimpressed, Justin wearily eyeballed the entrance through which he’d strutted in. He shifted in that direction to show Stone that he was going to walk out any second.
He said, business-like, “Well I guess you were right. I came to the wrong place…”
He turned to leave.
“Hang on, hang on, hang on ––” Stone tipped his head toward Justin in a serious manner. “Aight! Okay big guy, yuh wanna get a tail? Wanna lick some clit? No prublem, Ah’ma hook you up. Gotta best-looking chicks across da board heah an’ Ah’ma hook you up. Ah’ma even put yuh ass in de champagne room an’ let you have it fo’s long as yuh can pound it, hah ‘bout that?”
Stone’s friendly arm came down around Justin’s shoulders.
“Seein’ anythin yuh like?”
He was guiding Justin’s gaze across some of the staff girls present in the hall going about their business. They were all pretty; there was no doubt about that. Justin observed them. One was particularly pretty with her long raven hair, but Justin thought her wheeny-whiny voice was kind of offsetting her Bella Donna image. Another one in an ultra tight skirt hanging out by the DJ booth won him over with her sex appeal. But then her snub nose made her look old (or maybe she really was), plus she didn’t seem much fun to be around…
“How ‘bout dat one?”
Stone head-indicated a girl dressed scantily and arguing over the club routine with a likewise dressed workmate. Justin barely looked though, totally caught by a different girl who had just come out of a backroom.
“It’s a prick to choose, ain’t it? They may be filled out the same, but Ah guarantee they taste differently. Y’ain’t never seen no sweet ass like dat.” Stone said proudly, his mouth stretching into a smirk. “We ain’t open yet, but if yuh want –– and if you ain’t in no hurry or anythin’ –– Ah can have yuh gal hit the changin’ room for ya.”
“Who’s that one?” Justin suddenly asked Stone, eyes wowing for the backroom girl. “I kinda like that one.”
“Sure yuh want her, boy? I mean, there’re plenty of ––”
“No, no, no… she’s definitely my type.”
“Aight –– if yuh say so; it�
��s yuh choice.”
“Are you sure she’s a pro?” Justin asked while checking her out as she moved along. She had a ‘rookie-ness’ about her, but that was maybe just surface-level. And he found it the cutest. After all, he was a ‘rookie’ too, in a sense.
“Don’t worry ‘bout it, boy,” Stone said, familiarly tapping his shoulder. “She ain’t no choir girl…”
Justin didn’t worry, but he didn’t like that much familiarity from Stone either. And he would’ve also preferred not to be called ‘boy’ as a matter fact. It was making the whole transaction more awkward by the second.
He said at last, “Where do we go from here?”
Stone called someone from the staff and asked them to take Justin to the ‘special room.’
“So about dat ball ––” Stone started.
“After,” Justin said. “You’ll have it after.”
“What’s the idea? You better tread carefully, boy…”
“It’s just so I know this deal is really going to happen. I mean, no one likes to be played, and look –– you have the advantage over me if one of us doesn’t deliver.”
“Yuh a sharp little fella, huh?” Stone grumbled. “Ah give yuh one hour.”
And Justin let himself be led off from the hall to the special room.
Stone’s eyes went from Justin disappearing behind a wall, to the girl he’d singled out:
Susanne – Suzy – McCorkle.
Chapter XXIII
THE INDECENT PROPOSAL
AND SUZY’S HESITATION
