by Amy Johnson
“Maybe you should call your friend Tom. He seemed interested. I bet he’d be happy to screw you.”
“I don’t want Tom. I mean, I am interested in him and he asked me to dinner but…” her tears began faster and she fiercely wiped at her eyes. “It’s just that I’m not sure I’m very good at that sort of thing. Sex, that is.” Jack looked at her as if she’d just told him she had a vicious case of Rabies. “What I mean is I’ve only ever been with Ted and when I read in Josie’s book how lousy he was in bed I thought, well, I must suck too. I mean, sure I’ve had sex but only with the same man for ten years and I knew nothing when we started. So if I learned from him and he’s so bad, then I’m probably even worse. After one night with me Tom, or any other man for that matter, would probably run for the hills or suddenly decide to be gay.” Jack said nothing because he couldn’t believe the bullshit that was spewing from her mouth. He’d rather acquire a fatal case of Athlete’s Foot on his crotch than listen to this. But she was serious and she was crying harder, genuinely distraught by this. He pushed his way past her and put his hand on the door knob. He wanted to touch her, to take her in his arms and say anything to make her stop crying. Or to make love to her in the back seat of a charger until she screamed so loud the windows shattered. But he would do nothing except get the hell out of there and drink her off his mind. Forever. His heart couldn’t take this.
“Goodnight Mrs. Malone,” he said before opening the door.
She put her hand on the door trying to stop him “Please Jack?” She pleaded with those angelic eyes and he averted his to his boots. “I just want you to find them, find out if they’re single, if they still live here. I don’t want you to do anything else. I just want to feel like one of the special girls. The ones who got all the dates, the ones the boys noticed.” He froze, too numb to move. If he’d left before that last comment he would have been fine. He was angry, heartbroken, frustrated, and pissed as hell. He’d have been able to slam the door and stay that way. But when she’d said she just wanted to feel like those girls, to be noticed, his head shut down. He couldn’t sort through the mix of emotions spiraling through him and he didn’t want to. Pissed off was good. Angry was good. He could handle those and they’d keep his head on straight so he’d stay the hell away from Megan. But he knew there was more and that he’d spend a great deal of time trying to sort through them, obsessing over them. One thing was sure. He had to get out of there. Soon, before he said or did something stupid.
“Goodbye Mrs. Malone,” he said his brown eyes staring directly into hers. “Good luck on your quest.”
She followed him out, “Please think about it Jack,” she called out to his departing back. He climbed into his truck, started the engine, and had the truck in gear before he even shut the door. With his foot flat on the floor he guided his truck down her street and to the nearest bar.
Megan’s mother passed Jack on the sidewalk as she was walking up the driveway to Megan’s house. Megan plastered smile on her face and waved at her mom. Her mom was not smiling and was clutching her Rosary beads in her hand. Oh Boy! Megan was in big trouble now. That thought brought a surge of excitement...
“Hello, Mom. It’s an exceptionally beautiful night wouldn’t you say?” Megan said in her perkiest, ain’t I cute voice. In the background she heard a roar of laughter followed by ‘Go Mickey, Go Mickey, It’s your birthday.’ The gang was in the living room and Megan was sure Mickey was doing his famous beer bottle balancing trick, where he balanced the bottle on his forehead, while simultaneously, downing the contents of another one all without using his hands. Either that or he was doing a strip tease. Either way, they were having a blast and Megan would have much rather been in there. Instead she was facing down a rather angry woman who was carrying a crucifix, Rosary beads, and a Bible. All the essential equipment needed for bringing down the wrath of God on a rotten child. Outside thunder cracked and Megan prayed for lightening to strike and torch the kitchen. Her mother pushed past her and threw her purse on the counter.
“Mom, I…”
“Cut the crap, young lady.” Oh boy, she said crap. She was pissed. “I don’t know what the heck has gotten into you but I’ve had enough. Being rude to sweet Mrs. Everett, kissing that…that man in your yard,” the laugher erupted again, “having wild parties. I’ve had enough of it and so has your father. You are not going to ruin our good names. We are well respected in this town and…”
“Mom,” Megan was on a roll tonight, no sense stopping now, “Put a sock in it.” Her Mother’s face went white. “What I do has nothing to do with you. I am thirty. Didn’t you get the memo? I am free to live my own life anyway I damn well please and if you don’t like it then move. Or better yet, I’ll move. I’ve been thinking about it for a while anyway.” A few stubborn tears formed in the corners of her mother’s stern blue eyes. “I’m divorcing Ted, and I’m going to kiss a few boys, and maybe even have sex with one of them. I’m going to get drunk if I want to, and if I feel like it I’ll run down the street naked shouting the f-word at the top of my lungs. Hell, I might even get arrested. I’ve never ridden in a cop car before and it might be kind of fun.” Her Mother’s face was a mix of anger, disgust, and horror. She was clutching her crucifix so tight Megan was afraid she’d break it. Her mother said nothing.
“Oh, and by the way, I write a smut column for a local woman’s magazine and I’ve been doing it for years. It’s called Meg’s Moment and you might want to check it out. It’s mostly sex and stuff, but I try to throw in a few baking tips and household remedies every now and again. Pretty good stuff if you ask me.”
The kitchen door opened and then shut quickly and Megan’s mom said, “I need to sit down.” Megan guided her to a chair and instantly felt like hell for what she’d just said to her mother. The look on the woman’s face made Megan’s heart break. She was a horrible daughter. A rotten, human being. Her mother was fanning herself with her hand and fighting back tears.
“Mom,” Megan began, “go home. Forget about what I said. I’m sorry. I love you very much. You are a wonderful mother and you did an awesome job raising me. I’m a horrible person and that is no reflection of you. You can blame daddy or someone on his side of the family. Maybe I got a hold of some bad genes. I’ll try to do better. Just go home and we’ll start fresh tomorrow.”
Her mother rose and Megan braced herself for a blow to the head with that infamous brown purse. But instead her mother wrapped her arms around Megan’s neck and pulled her close. “Do you need money for a divorce lawyer?” she said and Megan about fainted. “Because if you’re going to do it I want to make sure you have a good attorney.”
“I’m fine Mom, but thanks.” Megan heard herself say through the lump in her throat. She loved her mother so much and from now on she was going to try harder to appreciate her. Even when she was nagging her to a premature death.
Her mother pulled away and held Megan’s hands, her eyes soft and maternal. “Make sure you pick up some of those uh condom things at Rite-Aid, and have your teeth cleaned. No one likes to kiss a dirty mouth.” Megan smiled and nodded. “Oh and don’t forget to call for a ride if you have too much to drink. You may be a pain in the ass, kid, but you’re my pain in the ass and I’d like to have you around to send me to my early grave.” She patted her daughter’s cheek and gathered her things. Laughter erupted again and she said, “Go on, Honey. You’re missing all the fun.”
“I love you, Mom,” Megan said feeling her heart swell in her chest.
I love you too, dear.” She turned to leave then stopped, “Oh and Meg, don’t leave your phone off the hook again. I’ll try to overlook everything else, but avoiding your mother is a carnal sin. Don’t do it again.”
Megan smiled, “OK, Mom. I won’t.” Her Mother left and Megan got a beer and went into the living room to join the party feeling like a totally new woman. Free and liberated and fun.
***
Jack sat on the creaky bar stool at Dude’s, a low budget country w
estern bar about a mile from Megan’s. He’d been there ten minutes and the bartender had been ignoring him sitting there the whole time. Jack rapped on the wooden counter for about the fifth time when the gentleman, finally sauntered over, swiping a bar cloth over the surface as he came.
“Shot of Jack,” he growled, “and keep ‘em coming.” The old man shook his head.
“Not at my bar, son,” he said in his raspy nicotine voice.
“Come on, don’t start this with me.”
“Then leave.” Jack hung his head and stared at the scarred surface of the bar as Frank worked his way to the other end of the bar. Jack knew Frank meant well and maybe that’s why he didn’t just get up and go to another bar. He didn’t really want to throw his sobriety down the drain and he knew he’d hate himself for it tomorrow. He just didn’t want to feel anything but numbness right now because everything he felt either made him want to break something or cry. From the other end of the bar Frank was watching Jack. He didn’t look up but he could feel the man’s stare penetrating him.
Megan wanted his help. She wanted to have fun. She wanted a few lessons in sex. All that was good and fine if she’d have wanted those things with him. But no, he was only supposed to be the gopher. Like the water boy in the football game. Just a mere enabling bystander that she could toss aside once his job was done. He located the shelves on the wall, holding various bottles of liqueur. On the second shelf, shining like a beacon of light was his long lost friend, its black and white label calling his name. He stared at the bottle half full of the glowing amber liquid and closed his eyes. He could almost taste the stout, smooth, sensation as the liquid rolled down his throat. He wanted that bottle but he knew he wasn’t going to get it. Not because of Frank. Hell, if he raised a big enough stink Frank’d probably cave and if he didn’t he could go somewhere else. Hell, there were a dozen convenience stores on his way home that sold it. Nope he wouldn’t get it because he didn’t want it. Sure, right now it sounded great but he knew if he had one drink he’d never stop and his sobriety was way more important. He’d come too far to throw it away. Even if it was for Megan. He’d do just about anything for that woman, except this.
He hung his head back down and inhaled the familiar scents of the bar; cigarette smoke, sweat, beer. He ran his fingers through his brown hair and cocked his head to the side and came face to face with a pair of the finest crafted breasts poking out of a shiny silver halter top. He glanced up at the owner of those breasts and found a pretty blonde headed woman staring at him, her gleaming white smile dancing in her green eyes.
“Hi handsome, haven’t seen you around here. How about you take me for a spin on that dance floor and I’ll help you forget about all your problems.”
“No thanks,” he answered staring straight ahead at the blinking Budweiser sign, its light reflecting off the mirrored background.
She rubbed his forearm and tried another dazzling smile. “C’mon, you look like you need some cheering up.” He said nothing so she placed her hand on his thigh and parted her lips, “Just one dance?” He removed her hand and frowned. She stiffened on her stool, rolled her eyes, and motioned Frank over. “Gimme another, Frank” she said. And after Frank set her drink on the counter she scooped it up, gave Jack a your-loss look, and scampered away. Jack fished his wallet out of his pocket and threw a five on the counter to pay for her drink just as Frank leaned his elbows on the bar opposite him.
“Must be one hell of a woman to get a man this upset and stupid enough to turn Audrey down. You could have taken her home tonight and had quite a time, but I guess you know that already.” Jack looked up into the man’s tired brown eyes and the old man nodded, a knowing look in his eyes. He disappeared behind the bar and returned with a tall glass of Coke, plopping it down in front of Jack.
Jack reached out and gently grasped the man’s wrinkled hand. With a brief squeeze he said, “Thanks, Dad.”
The old man smiled and said, “Anytime, Son. Been there myself.” Jack sipped his coke and thought about his dad and the years he’d spent in the bottle when his mother had gotten sick. After his mother’s death they’d gone to AA and gotten sober together, been that way ever since. Jack polished off his Coke, shrugged his jacket on, and lifted a hand to his father. Frank nodded and waved at his son, proud that he’d come there when the urge to drink had been so strong, knowing that his dad would be there to steer him straight.
***
Megan had joined her guests, plopped down her high school yearbooks, and filled the gang in on what she asked Jack to do for her.
“Did you tell him why you wanted to find these guys,” Stacy asked. Thanks to the Tequila she was being really cool about the whole thing. Ordinarily she would have lectured Megan on taking a few years and dealing with the divorce, blah blah.
“Sort of,” Megan said. “But really he figured it out. Told me I needed a pimp instead of a PI.” Mickey raised one perfectly plucked eyebrow.
“Well is he going to do it? Find these guys?” he asked.
“Oh he’ll do it,” Megan said, “or I’ll have his butt thrown in jail for breaking into Ted’s studio.” She thought about that kiss and what a shame it would be to have those lips locked up. “Plus, I kissed him,” from around the room, curious looks were being shot at her, “and he seemed to enjoy it.”
She told them about old lady Everett and how she kissed Jack to shock the old woman and how he told her to take a hike and then she filled them in on the conversation with her mom.
“Your mom said crap, condoms, and ass all in the same night?” Ali said surprised. “Shit, the end of the world must be near.”
“I just can’t believe she told you to get your teeth cleaned, like she’s giving you pointers to help you get some. Almost sounds like she wants you to have sex,” Stacy said, having traded in Tequila for iced tea.
“I doubt that, but I guess when I do get some she wants to make sure that I don’t spread tarter germs while I’m at it. You know my mom, she always tends to the details.” Megan smiled and opened her senior year book. “So, let’s see who’s hot, who’s not, and whose revenge sex worthy.”
“Finally something I am can contribute to.” Josie nestled up beside Megan and began scanning the head shots of the class of 1999. “Oh, Ben Jacobs remember him? He used to have the mullet haircut, and a never ending collection of Metallica tee shirts. Remember he’s the one who lip locked Mrs. Ferguson on the fifty yard line during the state championship.”
Mickey nodded his head and said, “Yeah he got suspended but he said it was worth it because he got Mrs. F’s phone number.”
Ali added, “And he was labeled Best Butt in Parker Point.”
“OK,” Megan said scrawling his name down, “he goes on the list. But if he’s in jail I’m not doing him. Next.” They continued their search, pausing to make fun of those who were style challenged or not genetically gifted. “How bout him?” Megan asked, pointing to a picture of Jody Collins.
Josie held up her pinky and said, “Been there, or at least I think it was there. It was too small for me to tell really.” Stacy laughed and agreed with Josie. Guess she’d been there too.
“Find Eric Worley,” Ali said. “I dated him my junior year. We didn’t go all the way but if kisses are any indication then he’s a definite ten in the bedroom.”
“He’s married,” Stacy reported and Megan frowned, “his wife goes to my gym. Let’s find Aaron Sharp. I know he’s single and he was hot stuff back in the day.”
They found Aaron smiling seductively next to a girl with big hair and a bony kid and a cowboy hat. “See? He was hot back then, still is. Remember he dated Felony Melanie back then- a name she’d been given for her habit of stealing her father’s car-along with most of the cheerleading squad. He was the man back then.” Megan remembered him. He used to hang around with Ted.
She looked at Josie for her input but Josie flipped her hand in the air and said, “He had a skater cut, I wasn’t into skaters back then.” Finall
y somebody Josie hadn’t slept with. Megan added him to the list.
“Oh, Oh,” Mickey said excitedly, “find Drake Colburn.” Everyone gave him a look that said ‘duh’. He shook his head rapidly, “No he’s not gay, my sister used to date him. Well not really a date, just one time, but she still talks about that boy and his magical tongue to this day. Just think how much better he’d be now that he’s had some time to perfect his skills.” Megan scrawled his name down.
“And don’t forget Chase Kilborne,” Ali said, and there was a collective sigh followed by the word “Awww” from everyone in the room. Chase was Mr. Popularity. His nickname was Killer because it was rumored that he’d once killed a girl by giving her a fatal orgasm. He was the one all the girls wanted to play spin the bottle with just so that they could say they’d kissed him.
“Yeah, Chase is a definite yes!” Ali said. “I think there’s, like, a shrine to him somewhere in the school like the Vietnam memorial, only it has the names of the women he left heart broken and extremely satisfied.” She shivered and smiled at the memory. Mickey pounced like flies on a cow patty.
“You little slut! You and Chase?” Ali’s smile widened and she said sweetly, “A lady never tells.”
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Mickey said. “He live up to his reputation?”
“Yep. Twice,” Ali said.
Josie said, “Twice? Damn, you must’ve swung off the chandelier in a whip cream bikini to make it to repeat offender status. He never slept with the same girl twice.” Dr. Ross seemed to be fantasizing about Josie and a big tub of whipped cream.
