by Kage Alan
Jenny and I started talking almost right away and didn't stop until it was time to eat. By then, I had updated her on how the trip was going, that I had hoped to see the beaches and experience a little bit of what living in California was all about and what Uncle Chester's ultimate plans for me were if I stayed there. She was appalled—literally appalled—that I hadn't started drinking anything stronger than Pepsi before they'd arrived and only slightly surprised at the conditions of my stay. She was definitely family, all right.
We caught a glimpse of a list Uncle Chester had been making of all the things he wanted me to accomplish around the house during my time there. Jenny took Kenny aside before the end of the evening, and the two of them plotted my escape. I didn't know yet if it was really to help me or to put a wrench in the man's plans, but during a lull in the conversation, she helped me get my suitcase out to their mini-van unnoticed. Did I care if it was to help me or hinder Uncle Chester? Not really, because, undoubtedly, both would be accomplished.
Jenny also told me not to worry about what to tell my hosts about my leaving. She had something in mind and felt confident there wouldn't be any problems.
Just before leaving, she suggested out loud to Kenny that they take me for a ride and show me some of the sights that were spectacular to look at during the night hours.
"Oh, Kenny,” Uncle Chester immediately objected, “you don't need to put yourself out for the boy. He's perfectly happy right where he's at."
"We have two children,” Jenny chimed in before her husband could reply, “so I don't think ‘putting out’ is a problem for us."
I chuckled at her smartass comment and received a dirty look from Grandma. Jenny was like the relative I never knew I had but would have wanted if I knew I did!
"Besides, if the kid stays here, he'll be lucky if you take the handcuffs and shackles off of him long enough for him to get a decent tan.” She looked at me and winked. “And in case you hadn't heard, slavery is so passe. It was also outlawed some time ago ... probably when you were in your late teens."
Ooohhh ... That had to hurt.
Jenny reminded me of Sally Field at this point, because I liked her! I really liked her! This woman had to be good to have broken the male ego of one of our family members, especially the crown prince's. Anyone who could do that would undoubtedly have little difficulty in standing up to the king, much like she had just done. Guess I knew who wore the panties in that family.
Besides, if Uncle Chester thought I was going to pass up an opportunity like this, he was nuts! Jenny had already promised to take me to a number of the beaches and introduce me to something called Corona. I didn't know if that was a new kind of condom or aphrodisiac, but as long as I was safe and spawning, I really didn't care.
"I don't know about this,” Grandma said. “Marie and Donald entrusted me with his safety, and I don't think they'd like him running off like this and taking advantage of you.” She looked over at me and frowned. “I think Chester is right. What's-his-face is fine here where we can keep an eye on him."
"Uh, excuse me,” I finally broke in. “What's-his-face—I mean me—is nineteen years old and a legal adult, so I think he can make his own executive decisions."
Uncle Chester and Grandma were peering at me, unable to comprehend why I was opening my mouth and speaking when I hadn't been properly invited to do so.
"I understand and appreciate Grandma's feelings of responsibility, but there is a much deeper issue involved here.” I seemed to have all their attention now. “I want very much to be a writer, and that means getting out and experiencing life. Now, while I appreciate the offer to experience white slavery firsthand, I think I'm going to pass and go for the real essence of life here in California—Corona and beach babes.” My search for love in California was officially on!
Kenny, Jenny, Benny, Lenny and I left the house that night with an understanding with the elders that we were officially agreeing we were dis-agreeing. Uncle Chester and Grandma never gave up trying to change my mind, often using words like duty and family as a part of their argument. It was as if I should somehow be feeling challenged to do a certain amount of hard labor at Uncle Chester's before going back to Michigan to the job that awaited me and the classes at school that would follow shortly thereafter. Funny thing is, I didn't feel challenged, not at all. I felt Uncle Chester was challenged, though.
"I'm very disappointed in you,” Grandma said sternly and peered at me with disapproval.
"I'm crushed.” I reached over and planted a quick kiss on her cheek. When I turned around, Uncle Chester was blocking my way into the van.
"You're not showing a great deal of maturity, young man.” He spoke slowly, and as if it were some kind of warning that bad things were going to happen if I left.
"Uncle Chester.” I looked him right in the eyes and tried my best to look defeated. I couldn't believe he had actually told me I wasn't showing a great deal of maturity when he had felt it was perfectly acceptable to inform store employees I had been caught and jailed for shoplifting in the past. What could I say to a man who did that? “Bite me."
I grabbed his hand, shook it and squeezed past him into the vehicle.
We were roaring out of the subdivision moments later and heading towards the freeway and freedom. I wondered what sights they would show me, especially since it was already getting a bit late for their children. The boys looked as tired as I felt.
It was only eleven, but back home it was two a.m.; and that made all the difference in the world. I needed to get some sleep so I would be ready and fertile for my first romp with a beach babe. Actually, I really didn't want to be fertile with one as much as I just wanted to have sex with one or two or three of them ... maybe more. They would be all I needed to get Jordan out of my mind, especially since I'd just bothered to acknowledge he was still in there.
That was a strange thought. Was it that import-ant to me to get him out of my mind, or was there something else? I'd often wondered why so many people were doing things I wanted to but never did because I knew they were wrong. What made me so moralistic? What was I trying to prove by not having sex? I didn't do it in high school because I freaked, but why did I freak? I'd been close to love, but I didn't commit sexually. Why?
Sex would have been so easy, yet it had never felt right. Part of me wanted someone special and another part of me just wanted someone. What would I be proving if I did have sex?
Maybe, if I just got the sex part out of the way, I would be able to concentrate on the more meaningful aspects of relationships. How did Jordan feel about matters like this?
Well, there he was again.
Admittedly, if I was gay, I could have done a lot worse than Jordan, at least based entirely on looks. I had no idea what kind of a person he was on the inside, however. Hell, he could have been telling me what he thought I wanted to hear just so he could score. The thought of him wanting to score didn't make me laugh, but the fact he tried to score with me did. I mean, this guy lived in California with movie stars and studs on steroids on the beach, so why me? What was the attraction? Maybe he just liked virgins.
Oh, God, did I make it that obvious to him that I was a virgin? Did any of this really matter? No. Okay, then, concentrate on the vixens, the tigresses, she-lions, daughters of joy, mistresses, concubines, temptresses, nymphomaniacs, hystero-maniacs, uteromaniacs and clitoromaniacs...
"Andy.” Jenny turned around in the front seat to look at me. “We're almost there.” She broke out into a huge grin. “You're going to love the Ambassador!"
"Great.” The Ambassador? Wasn't that the name of the bridge some of my friends and I took going over to Canada?
It must be a fairly common name to use in states where bridges were an actual attraction. It wasn't like tourists would find a large structure like that in Wisconsin, where all those people had going for them was cheese. Here, the bridges had to have a grand or extravagant name.
"What's the Ambassador?"
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6
An incredible light filled my eyes, and I thought for sure that I was on fire, mostly because of the amount of pain it caused me. My voice wouldn't work very well when I tried to speak and what did come out was a combination of unin-telligible sounds. Why was it so difficult to remember where I was and what had happened to me?
I felt something on top of me, but I couldn't tell what it was. Ironically, there was no noise. Fires made noise, didn't they? Either I'd gone deaf, too, or I wasn't really on fire. Very curious.
I think I was lying down, my head was definitely killing me, the light was too damn bright and my body felt like it had been hit by a large truck that had been speeding far faster than it should have down an LA freeway.
Where in the hell was I, and what had happened to me? Maybe I was in a hospital and feeling the after-effects of some accident we'd gotten into. The fire may have been real then, but I'd lived and my mind was blocking out the scene to save me from more trauma.
I must have been pretty scarred and burned on my head to feel the way I did. Maybe I'd need plastic surgery. I've always been told by my peers that I should have it anyway, so now I had an excuse to have it done. Who could I ask to look like?
My stomach grumbled quite loudly, and I almost doubled over in pain. The damn muscles in that area felt like they were completely shot. It did, however, force me to open my eyes.
I was in a bedroom—a normal bedroom, not some hospital room. The thing I felt on top of me was a large blanket, and the light was sunlight coming in between the blinds on a nearby window. I was getting it full in the face because I was on the top of a bunk bed.
A quick glance around turned up very little. I was alone, and my suitcase was on the floor beside the bed. Also, in becoming conscious, I noticed an extremely foul stench that I soon realized was my breath. Whatever had happened, I never bothered to brush my teeth before going to bed.
I hadn't bothered to undress, either. God, what I must look like.
The scent of freshly cooked bacon reached my nostrils, and my stomach growled again. The combination of hunger and light was what probably roused me from my sleep, something I almost dismissed as the slumber of the damned com-pliments of my imagination. What was I missing, here, other than my memory?
Actually, memory was pretty much it.
Curious as to what sudden turn my life had taken, I opened the bedroom door, made my way down a long hallway and finally emerged in the kitchen. Jenny was cooking at the stove; she sensed my presence and turned to greet me.
"Well, good morning!” She appeared far too perky for my taste. “You look like you could use a shower."
That had to be the understatement of the year. I was just glad I hadn't woken up in some stranger's house or in a hotel room next to a dead body. Nah, that only happened in the movies.
"What happened last night?” It was the only thing I could think to ask, mostly because it would clear everything up. At least, I hoped it would.
"Kenny and I thought you might not remember.” She chuckled as she spoke. “We dropped the kids off here with the babysitter and then took off for the Ambassador."
"I don't remember that at all.” I searched my memory as hard as I could, but it was all a haze. I didn't even remember them telling me they were going to drop the kids off let alone actually doing it. “Did I drink or something?” I shouldn't have been able to since I'm underage.
"Oh, yeah.” Jenny suddenly looked guilty. “But that's kind of our fault. We know the people who work there and told them you were with us, so they served you. You started with a few Coronas and then someone from another table sent over two shots of Jungle Juice. At that point, you weren't exactly thinking too clearly, but you were really enjoying yourself!” She savored the memory. “Three shots of tequila, two spontaneous karaoke songs and one limbo contest later, you passed out."
I was mortified.
"Kenny and I had to help carry you out to the car, and you kept saying some very odd things the entire way. You were laughing, pointing to the sky and saying ‘I see them! I see the dolphins! Alphaville was right!’”
I was completely mortified.
"Please tell me that's all I said and did.” Maybe Uncle Chester and Grandma had been right in thinking I shouldn't have left, but for very different reasons. I sang karaoke? I performed in a limbo contest? I talked about Alphaville and dolphins. I would have to bring up music when I was trashed. That was okay as long as I didn't go any further and bring up Samantha Fox and her tits! That was where I drew the line.
"Well, there were two other things.” Jenny blushed a bit. “We got the impression you were rather fond of Samantha Fox's breasts."
Shit!
"By ‘we,’ you mean you and Kenny?” Things could have been worse. I could have told my great-aunt and uncle. Damage control was at work here.
"Actually...” She looked back down at what she was cooking, obviously trying to save me some amount of embarrassment. “...me, Kenny and everyone else in the bar. You kind of announced it while doing a karaoke striptease tribute to ‘Touch Me (I Want Your Body).’”
"Oh, God.” I didn't feel so good. Maybe it was best that I didn't remember anything that had happened. I might have wanted to take more than just a few aspirins to end the pain. Maybe a bottle or two...
How in the hell could I explain my actions? I couldn't. What if my parents found out? What if Grandma found out? She'd personally haul my ass right back to Michigan and tell my parents exactly what I was doing out here. Within forty-eight hours, I'd gotten drunk, been kissed by a man, pissed my grandmother and great-uncle off, gotten drunk again, performed a striptease at a bar I couldn't remember doing the following morning. I think I was catching up to my peers back at the university with sufficient speed.
"Oh, don't be so upset.” Jenny flashed me a look that suggested there was something else I wasn't being told. “They loved it! Hell, they gave you a standing ovation..."
What? She'd stopped in mid-sentence. There was definitely something being left out here. What was it?
"And that's when I passed out?” I hoped.
"No, that's when you did your encore and sang ‘Boom Boom (Let's Go Back To My Room).’”
"And your telling me this is supposed to make me feel better how?"
"Like I said, don't worry about it.” She finished with whatever she was making—pancakes, it smelled like—and put them in the oven to stay warm. “They loved what you did. In fact, I think three or four people offered to take you back home with them so you could sleep it off."
That sounded promising.
"Young women with bodacious ta-tas looking for a meaningful relationship with Mr. Right?"
"No.” Jenny gave me a strange look. “More like older men looking to play sugar daddy with Mr. Right Now, who happens to have a youthful face and tight ass."
"Sugar what?” Wasn't a sugar daddy a candy bar? I definitely wasn't up on all of this California lingo. “What made them think I had a tight ass?"
"Please.” She rolled her eyes. “Everybody saw your ass. Believe me, it's tight."
"I don't think I want to hear anymore.” I didn't want to be a pop star. I only wanted to be a writer, and singing wasn't a requirement, let alone drunken singing. The last time I'd done that was at Cedar Point in the little recording studio there. Soberly listening to me drunkenly singing Robert Palmer's “Addicted To Love” had convinced me never to do that again. Well, until now.
"My nephew helped us get you into the house, and he was the one who put you to bed.” Jenny shook her head again and chuckled. “You must watch a lot of horror movies or something because you kept referring to him as the ‘son of Satan’ and insisted that Kenny and I search his scalp for a scar in the shape of six-sixty-six then sacrifice him so the world could live. It gave us quite a laugh."
"It seems I live to amuse lately.” I was com-pletely exasperated.
Whoever her nephew was, I hoped he hadn't felt insulted. I also
hoped he didn't believe in going by first impressions alone. Jenny or Kenny would have explained the situation to him, and the fact I was from out-of-state would surely add to his understanding of my behavior and stupidity.
"I'm going to go take my shower.” I turned to leave.
"That's fine,” she assured me. “I put a towel and washcloth in the bathroom for you and ... oh, listen.” She stopped me in my tracks. “I have to take the boys to baseball practice shortly, so the J-man will finish getting breakfast ready. You can eat with him, and then when we get back later on, we'll talk about where we can go while you're here.” She smiled warmly.
"I appreciate all this,” I told her sincerely. “Thank you."
"You're welcome.” She picked up her purse and called for the boys. “We'll see you in a bit."
I went back to the bedroom and opened my suitcase for all the things I was going to need. The first goal I had was to brush my teeth, then shave and finally shower. It was probably a good thing the kids hadn't seen me this morning looking like I did. They could see me later when I looked semi-quasi-normal. Somehow, though, I would have thought Jenny and Kenny would have enrolled them in a wine-tasting class instead of Little League. Actually, they probably did.
Drinking seemed to be a sport on this side of the family, and I could only assume they all started at a young age. I could never do it, mostly because I didn't have much of a tolerance. After last night, I didn't even want to think about drinking again, so I really didn't need to bother with working up a tolerance.
The shower felt wonderful! Combined with a fresh shave and the taste of toothpaste still in my mouth, I felt like a new ... person in my late teens.
Hopefully this “J-man” nephew of Jenny's hadn't eaten all the bacon I'd smelled earlier. Despite however much I'd drunk the previous night, I needed food. The pancakes smelled pretty good, too, and I think I knew why. There was the smallest hint of vanilla mixed in with the scent, and I loved pancakes with a bit of that in them. So, my cousin was a gourmet. It sure beat corn flakes or Special K or Cheerios at my great-aunt and uncle's place.
