Permanent Declarations of a Temporary Love

Amber brought me a cup of coffee to the table at the Arabica coffee shop.  She blew on the steam rising from her cup as she sat down across from me.  She stared at me.

“How are your classes going?” I asked.  I huddled my hands around my cup.

“Sweet Baby Jesus!” Amber stared at me.

“Look, I know you’re planning on continuing on to Seminary, but could you be more specific?”  Amber continued to stare at me.  She started tapping her well-manicured fingernails on the table.

“She gave you a toe-job, didn’t she?”  Now it was my turn to stare.  The water in the hot tub had been roiling.  There was absolutely no way she could have seen what was going on.

“Excuse me?”  With Amber, there was no such thing as buying time.

“A toe-job.  T-O-E dash J-O-B.  Toe-job.”  I looked around us to see if Amber’s voice had garnered us an audience.  Sister Lindy from Mount Carmel looked at me.  Through me.  I leaned over to her.

“I keep telling her, Sister, it’s pronounced Jobe, as in lobe, but she gets confused.”  Sister Lindy returned to her reading.  I looked over at Amber.  Now the middle nail on her right hand was tapping the rim of her cup.

“I’m gonna stick confused right up your ass until your prostate hollers uncle, you asshole.”  She continued the tapping, looked down at her cup and back up at me.  “Did you return the favor?”  If I said yes it would be a lie.  If I said no, it would mean the act in question had actually occurred.  Instead, searching for clever answers, I chose a poor one.

“If Sara had done that twenty-two years ago we wouldn’t be sharing this moment today.”

“That’s the best you can come up with?”  Okay.  She had me.  Memories of toes on flesh--even my favorite flesh--wilted under her stare.

“Did I do wrong?”  Was there no end to my stupidness?

“Define wrong.”  Her tapping on the cup rim intensified.  She was really the greatest daughter in the world.  Really.

“Well, wrong should really be my middle name--and I wouldn’t want to use my middle name as proof-text for my actions.  Is it possible I could just blame it on too much Southern Comfort?”  Stall, stall, stall.

“As opposed to lack of conscience, morals, scruples, and an assault on innocence?”  Okay.  So.  I know, I’d go on the offensive.

“I don’t think a toe-job would be construed as an act of innocence.”  There.  She sat there silently.  Clearly my plan was working.  I looked over as Sister Lindy’s chair slid back.  She got up, came over to our table, and put an index card in front of me.  She made a tsking sound and walked out the door.  Amber grabbed the card.

“Romans 12:2.  Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.”

“So she thinks my mind needs renewing?”  It didn’t hurt to ask.

“You’ve deeply offended the penguin.”

“That’s the last time I play bingo over there.”  I took a sip of my coffee.  I was deeply offended myself.  Deeply.

“Well, well, well, Father, you are quite the man.”

“So some would say.”

“But not many.”  Cut to the quick.

“Harsh you are.”

“So was it good?  The toe-job?”  She looked at me.

“Define good.”

. . .from the novel in progress.  . .Permanent Declarations of a Temporary Love

Permanent Declarations of a Temporary Love

Astrid poured me a cup of coffee.  It was noon.  I floundered my way through the tunnel to see if anybody might be alive.  I knocked on the door, since I was not provided with equal opportunity numbers to get back into the women’s dorm, and was met by a Brazilian glare.  She didn’t say a word to me, just nodded for me to follow her up the stairs.  This wasn’t difficult because of Astrid’s penchant for wearing a thong and precious little else.  The movement was hurting my eyes as I was following her up the stairs.  We were half way up and she stopped and I collided into her left cheek.  She turned around and snorted.

“What you think there’s going to be a quiz on them?”  My attempt at a witty repartee was hampered by the result of her turning around and now my nose and mouth being just north of all things precious, good, moist, and welcome to all males save the members of Frankie Goes to Hollywood and the Will and Grace fan club.  She reached down and lifted up on my chin. 

“I’m sorry?” was all I could manage.

“Yes, you are.”  Astrid continued her ascent up the stairs and I contemplated life with my new diverse friends.  “Coffee?” I heard her faintly.  Only if it’s fair-exchange I heard the good, moral part of me say.  It was a faint voice to be sure.

“Please.”  I made it up to the top of the steps, wishing my daughter had sprung for an elevator and a need for less companionship.  Astrid settled two large porcelain cups on the table and poured.  Apparently we were to have a conversation.  I looked around for a to-go cup and saw nary a one so I settled into my seat and Astrid sat across from me.  She adjusted her thong from the looks of arm and hand movement and cleared her throat.

I did likewise.  Cleared my throat that is.  I popped my eyes open and shut to keep the memories of her thong tucked away.

We both took sips of coffee.  Didn’t she have laundry to do?

“I used to be a hippie chick,” Astrid said.  She stirred sugar into her coffee and continued.  “I lived on a commune.  A nature commune.  A nudist commune.”  Why was I continually being tested and teased.  I closed my eyes.  Of course, that’s when the projector went off in my head.  There was Astrid in a tie-died shirt.  There was Astrid sans shirt.  There was Astrid serving tea to her friends buck naked with flowers in her hair.  I shook my head and looked up at her.

“And then what happened?”  The projector was stuck.  I tapped the side of my head.

“It was all crap, man.”  This chick was like the damn princess with the pea.  She could take a bath in yogurt and get a piece of glass stuck up her ass.  Why did I always think so visually?

“Well, we all have our ideals and then we tend to lose some of that when we mature a bit.”

“I know you’re not calling me immature.”  No, good god no.  I liked life far too much to be that foolish.

“That wouldn’t be prudent of me.”  Or of anyone who valued their penis.

“A wiser statement was never spoken.”  I didn’t need circle conversations.  Not with that Southern Comfort still banging up against important brain cells, laughing at my every attempt to make sense of speech and darkness from glare.

A bird came to the feeder at the window and started tapping away at the food.  Astrid got up and threw some milk into a blender, added a banana, a raw egg, and blasted it all to smithereens.  She got a glass out of the cupboard and poured the goop into a tall glass.

“Drink,” she said, putting the glass directly in front of me.  She sat back down and put her feet up on the table and crossed them at the ankles.  She started rubbing her toes together, looking at me.  “What?”

“Nothing.”  I gulped down the mess without breathing.  Rin’s toes.  Dammit!

“ ’nother?”

“No thanks.”  I wiped my mouth with the back of my sleeve.  I suddenly wondered where the rest of the crew might be.  “Where is everybody?”

“Gone.”

“Gone?”

“Gone.”  Wordy sort.

“And they might be where?”

“Practice.”

“Practice?”

“You’re wearing me out.”  Astrid got up, adjusted her thong and left the kitchen.

. . .from the novel in progress. . .Permanent Declarations of a Temporary Love

Permanent Declarations of a Temporary Love

I was about as drunk as a person could be.  I heard Frank singing in the background but I had no recollection of putting him on.  I was sitting in my hot tub and shriveling up like a prune.  I was in danger of sinking beneath the surface.  You can just take that metaphorically if you wish.  My soul was sinking along with my head.  I dipped down into the tub and just had my nose and eyes above the water.  Which would be why I didn’t hear the latch on the door behind me.

Rin dipped into the tub across from me.  All I saw was smooth brown skin and fleeting black pubic hair dive below the skim of the water.  I came up.  This I didn’t need.  If Amber walked in I was toast on a stick.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Rin asked. 

Mind?  On what planet would I mind?   I wasn’t about to burst out in tears of rage.  I wasn’t about to ask the good Lord why he was doing this to me either.  I thought maybe I’d just enjoy the moment.  Although I was good and snookered, part of me was enjoying the moment already. 

She motioned for the bottle of Southern Comfort and I handed it over to her.  She drained about a third of it without blinking an eye or catching a breath.  I stared at her with wonder and admiration.  Speech.  I finally found speech.

“No, I don’t mind.”  She offered the bottle back to me.  I shook it off and she set it down on the table outside the tub.  I stared at her and she back at me.  I felt a set of toes inch up my leg.  Naturally, in my impaired state, I wiggled my own first to make sure I wasn’t somehow becoming a contortionist.  Now was the time for me to get up and run.  Except it would be quite obvious that my betrayer would be happily jiggling in the wind and want to go in the opposite direction.  I hadn’t a clue what was up here.  Besides me. 

Rin’s toes planted themselves on one side of my groin.  My groin?  What?  Am I a sports announcer?  Why do they say that in football games on TV?  He has a groin pull.  He has a groin injury.  He got kicked in the balls.  Somebody put a mean hurt on Mr. Happy.  But, I digress.  With one set of toes firmly planted on the Eastern side of my penis, the other set of toes, like Lewis and Clark and eight of their pals going up a perverted creek, were climbing the  side of my other leg and found a home on the opposite side.  Rin was staring into my eyes and I could do little but stare back.  Well, let me correct myself.  I certainly could do something.  And a stronger person might have.  A less drunk one.  Maybe a more moral one.  I could rationalize this.  This was a set of toes.  A pair of them.  And hell, who’s to say they were forty-five-year-old toes or twenty-something toes?  They were toes goddamn it!  And all of a sudden they were moving up and down.  I had no idea whether my toes were supposed to be returning the favor, but I kept them right where they were.  And a good thing too.  Although I was still staring right into Rin’s eyes, my ears were working perfectly.   I heard the latch on the door this time.  In what seemed like an eternity, I saw Rin smile at me as she furiously moved her toes up and down.  I came with such intensity I buried my head beneath the water to keep from screaming.  I came back up slowly and looked at my daughter disrobing, casting aside her clothes and flashing a bright pink bikini as she gently eased herself into the hot tub without a care in the world.

  I felt my penis slowly deflate into a nub of dread.    

“What’s up?” Amber asked.  I looked at Rin and she smiled.

“Not a thing.”  I said.

“Not now.” said Rin.  Amber looked at Rin and then looked at me.  I motioned for the Southern Comfort and started drinking.

“So, Rin,” Amber said, “tomorrow’s your fourteenth birthday, right?”  I started choking on the Southern Comfort.  I coughed and wheezed.  Amber came over and started hammering me on the back.  Rin was laughing so hysterically she started snorting.

“Plus a decade,” she said between bursts of glee.

Amber started rubbing my back after I had calmed down.  She moved back over to her side of the hot tub.  We sat in silence for several minutes. 

“Time for me to get out,” Rin said.  She got up, natural as can be, the water slipping off her smooth skin.  She lifted one leg up and out and then the other one, grabbed a towel, and started patting herself dry.  Amber watched as her new naked roommate trailed away and casually entered my bathroom.  She then turned very slowly around to me.  I believe if it were a symphony, this would have been described as a largo movement.

“It’s just another proud moment for your daughter,” Amber said.  I started coughing and choking again.  She just stared at me.

“It must have been something I ate,” I said, calming down once again.

“I certainly hope not.”  She got out of the tub, grabbed a towel, and stared down at me.

“What?”

“Tomorrow we’ve got work to do.”

“Okay.”  She dried herself off.

“It’s a good thing I love you so much.”

“A good thing.”

“Oh no. A very good thing,” she said.

“Indeed.  A very good thing.” 

“Do I need to drain this thing?” she nodded down into the tub.

“I think these chemicals kill just about everything, don’t they?”

“We can only hope.”  Amber turned and walked out the door.

I sat there and pondered why my life took these turns. 

Rin came out of the bathroom, dressed, and looked over at me. 

“I need you to do something for me,” she said.

“Anything,” I said.

“I want you to kill somebody for me.”  She walked out the door.

. . .from the novel in progress. . .Permanent Declarations of a Temporary Love

Permanent Declarations of a Temporary Love

If you called me stupid you certainly wouldn’t be the first. 

I was back at the airport.  This time putting Sara on a plane.  Rin had gone along for the ride.  My sum total of time spent with Sara had been less than a day.  Half of that time with my neglected appendage tucked away in warmth and wonder.  Was this how it was going to be?  Fleeting flings in tired sheets and then back off to Asia?  I didn’t think I could live the rest of my life this way.

“I know you’re upset with me,” Sara said.

“I understand.”  I was tapping my foot.  That must have passed for more than boredom.  Rin kept a respectful ten feet away looking at the arrival and departure monitors.

“You’re just saying that.”

“Yes, you’re right.” 

“I’ve got to do this.  You know that.”

“Knowing it and liking it are two different things.”

“You know, you are a free agent,” Sara said.  She looked into my eyes for me to say something in return.

“Is that your way of saying you’ve got some man stashed back in Korea or Japan or some other ricey place?”   Did I really hear myself say ricey place?  Sara pressed her body against me and kissed me for a long time.  It was one of those kisses, although immensely enjoyable, I wanted to peek an eye open to see if we were being filmed or watched by hundreds of potential passengers and gossipers.  I broke it off and hugged her tightly.  Rin was engrossed in us now. 

“You’re the man,” Sara said, coming up for air.  “But, look.  We’ve never been exactly about commitment.”

“That would be your choice,” I said, picking a particle of dust off her sweater.

“I can’t begin to help who I am anymore than you can help writing your next great American novel, reading Dostoevsky, or finding ambient music endlessly fascinating.  And notice I didn’t even mention your penchant for bedding young girls.”

“Uh, you just did.”

“I think Rin might just have a thing for you.”  I looked over at Rin.  She was staring at us.

“Let’s not go there shall we?”

“Oh, I won’t go there.  I don’t swing that way.  But, perhaps, you might just get lucky.”

“Luck I don’t need.  It’s you I need.”

“And we might just accomplish that one of these days.”

“Yeah, when I’m close to eighty and this thing doesn’t work anymore.”

“This thing?” Sara patted my crotch.  I looked to see who was looking.  Ten seats worth of a girls soccer team and three nuns seated across from them.  And an airport security officer headed our way.  I put a bit of distance between us and he walked by us.  Apparently we weren’t the object of his intentions.

“Any idea when you might be back for more than just breakfast?”

“You forgot about dessert.”  Sara looked up into my eyes. 

“Are we over, Sara?”  I guess I just had to know.  If you don’t ask, you don’t know.

“We’re never over.”

“I need more than an occasional dipping of the stick, you know.”  The boarding announcement came over the loudspeaker for Sara’s plane.

“I’ve got to go.  I’ll call.”  Sara kissed me on the lips and was off to get in line.  I stood there looking like the loneliest person in the world.  She turned back around.  “A dipping of the stick?”  She shook her head and walked through the door to board the plane.

. . .from the novel in progress . .. 

Permanent Declarations of a Temporary Love

As we pulled into the driveway of the main house, I noticed two cars I didn’t recognize.  I popped the trunk and took out Rin’s carry-on and her suitcase.  I toddled up to the door with them.  The door opened and I eyed Amber as I tumbled in, awkwardly hoisting the suitcases into the house.  I set them down in the foyer and looked up. 

Sara.

                                                                       # # # # #

“I told you I impinguinated him,” Amber said.  She kept telling me she had been telling Sara she was fattening me up so other women would stay away from me.  And it had worked wonderfully!  Sara looked me up and down and then came over to me.  She hugged me for a long time.  Eventually the clapping by all the roommates broke us up.  I looked over and saw Slick Vanderwall stride over toward me. 

“Slick,” I said.

“How are you, Ben?”

“Better now.”  I looked at Sara and her eyes were glistening.  She still hadn’t said a word.

“Numbers,” Sara said.

“What?”

“The numbers.”  Confused as ever, I stared at her.  Sara looked at Amber with frustration.  Amber came over to Sara and whispered into her ear.  Sara nodded.  She took my hand.

“We’ll be back,” Sara announced to the others.  She led me down into the basement, down through the hallway and punched the numbers into my security keypad.  Sara walked over to the steps pulling off her shirt.  I was right behind her.  She unsnapped her bra and tossed it back into my face.  We entered the kitchen, she reached into the fridge and grabbed two beers.  She took off her jeans and put them on the kitchen table.  She headed up the stairs, hopping on one foot and then the other as she eased her panties down.  She stood at the top of the stairs in white socks.  I was fully dressed.  I climbed up the stairs and stood in front of her.

“Uh,” I said.

“Brilliance spews forth.”  She tugged at my belt and cut to the heart.

 . . .from the novel in progress. .. Permanent Declarations of a Temporary Love

Permanent Declarations of a Temporary Love

“There’s a guy . . .”

                                                                       # # # # #

There are times when I wondered how much God wanted to dump into my lap.  After the adventure Amber and I shared a few years back, I thought my quota of lifetime adventure had been adequately filled.  Sara apparently thought differently.  And there was a reason Sara sent Rin my way.  There was a guy.  A bad guy.  Wasn’t there always?

“ . . .by the name of Parson Shivers.” Rin finished.  I dropped my coffee cup, coffee splattering across the floor.  The waitress was none to happy.  I apologized profusely to the woman and helped her clean up the mess.  After we determined the floor was clean, I sat back down across from Rin.  She looked at me.

“Sara figured you’d know the guy.”  Shit.

“I don’t know the guy, really, Rin.  I know his brother very well.  We knew he was into girls, but not to this extent.”  Just how did I go about telling Stimple his brother was a bigger cretin than we imagined.  Rin continued her tale.

“When Sara and Kim were digging around over in Korea to find old comfort women, they ran across some of my relatives.  One of them told Kim about me.”

“And how did they piece all this together and get Parson Shivers out of it?”  I figured it would lead back to our old buddy, Slick Vanderwall, and I wasn’t far from the tree.

“Sara knew a guy back here in Ohio, Slick Vanderwall?”  Bingo.

“He’s a good man.”

“So Sara said.”  Sara and Slick worked together while Sara was in college.  Slick was a private detective in Columbus.  He was a tremendous help to us when we tracked down Pervis Stahl, another cretin who lived to torment young women.  But, I figured with the demise of Pervis, an adventure I’d never dreamed I’d share in, that would be the end of my being a Hardy Boy and Amber being Nancy Drew.  Sara, apparently, had other ideas.

“If I might ask you, Rin, just what is my role in all of this?”  She gathered up the pictures, tapped the pile into a neat stack and put them back into the envelope.

“She knew Amber would need your help.”  I looked at Rin.  Figured the little shit knew all about this already.

“I see.”

“She said you would do whatever Amber said.”  Rin looked at me for some kind of confirmation.  “In fact, I believe she said you were helpless when it came to Amber.”  Indeed.

“One might say.”

“So, you’ll help us?”

“Us?”

“Me.  And Amber.  And you would make three.”

“And just what is it we’re supposed to do?”

“Get Parsons.  And they also know he’s had some help here in the states.  A woman.”

“A woman?”

“Yes.”

“Any clues on whom that might be?”

“Yes.”

“And you might enlighten me this evening?”

“Yes.”

“Now?”

“A woman by the name of Hanna Doushay.”

All the blood drained from my face.

. . .from the novel in progress. . .Permanent Declarations of a Temporary Love

Permanent Declarations of a Temporary Love

Circle takes the square.  The picture didn’t do this girl justice.  I was staring at God’s perfection. 

She smoothed out her plaid skirt and handed me her carry-on.  “You are Ben, right?”  I’ll take Whoopie to block.

“That would be me.”  The carry-on only weighed four hundred pounds.  My right hand dipped toward the floor.

“I could use some coffee.”  And I could use somewhere I could reside besides the shallow end of my fantasy pool.  I patiently waited for Amber to bitchslap me mentally at the two-foot mark.

“Right this way.”  She walked on ahead of me until she spied a coffee shop.  She walked in and sat down, awaiting my presence.  A waitress came over and quickly brought over two cups of coffee.  Rin started talking.

“Sara saved my life.”  I could relate.  She’d saved mine many a time.

“How so?”  I poured cream into my coffee and five packets of sugar.  Rin looked on in a look I would describe as a cross between horror and disgust.

“How much do you know about Japanese culture?  I should say, about the subcultures over there?”  She spoke wonderful, unaccented English. 

“I know nothing.  Sorry.”

“There is a subculture over there, because I don’t mean to paint all of them this way, that values the subservience of women.  A throwback to the Geisha culture.  There is a huge fetish culture in Japan.  Remember back in the old days when postcards of naked women were a big deal?”

“I’m old, Rin, but not ancient.” I looked at her for some kind of confirmation and didn’t even get a shrug.  I probably was ancient in her eyes.  She looked to be the same age as Amber.

“Well, I got thrown into the life,” Rin said.

“The life.”

“I was kidnaped.  Forced into it.   I had to get out or I’d commit suicide.  You can only be hogtied so many times.” 

“I suppose.”  Hogtied?  I was way out of my element.

“The last time I was tied up and left for three days.  Some people get their kicks in different ways.  This guy was into massive pain.  I was lucky to get out alive.”  There are some things one can’t comment on in life.  This was one.  Knocking on clever’s door was a useless task during some monologues.  For once, I decided to keep my mouth shut.  The waitress came over and refilled our cups.  I was in no hurry.  Rin reached for her overnight bag.  She unzipped a zipper and pulled out a large manila envelope.  She unclasped the back of it and slid out five 8 x 10 glossy photographs.  Rin was naked in all of them, tied up into impossible poses. 

“This is what it was like,” she said.  “You know, it goes all the way back to the middle ages.  It was originally used as torture.”  A guy came cruising past the back of our table and did a double take looking down at the photos.  He looked at me.  I felt as unclean as a four-year-old on a playground.  Rin continued.

“They get girls over there as young as nine.  I’m sure it happens over here also.  In fact, I’m sure of it.  Countless little girls kidnapped and forced into sexual slavery.”  I took a sip of my coffee.  She put one of the pictures in front of me.  The rope was tied above and below Rin’s breasts in an elaborate pattern.  “This is called Shinju.”  This looked like none of the knots I learned at summer camp with the Boy Scouts.

“They have names for all this stuff?  It looks like people just tie you up willy nilly.”

“Every single rope and truss has a meaning.  This particular one makes the breasts and nipples very sensitive. Shinju.  It means, the pearls.”  Bondage 101 being taught to me by a twenty-year old. 

“Rin, no offense, but why are you telling me all this?”

“Because Sara thought you might be able to help me.” 


. . .from the novel in progress. . .Permanent Declarations of a Temporary Love

Permanent Declarations of a Temporary Love

I felt like a damn chauffeur standing at the gate holding up a sign that said RIN.  All I needed was a cap and a white shirt.  I looked around at several other people around me.  They were all waiting for loved ones.  There were no other signs. 

Soon, people were filing off the plane.  There was an endless stream of humanity, all coming from Los Angeles, entering Cleveland from vacations or visits from relatives.  At the end of the line I waited.  No Rin.  I waited another five minutes.  Finally, I saw walking down the tunnel the only Japanese girl who had disembarked.  I was the only one left at the gate.  I held up the sign.  The girl came right up to me.  Now I felt like a fool.  She took the sign from my hands and tossed it aside.   

. . .from the novel in progress. . .Permanent Declarations of a Temporary Love

Permanent Declarations of a Temporary Love

“Sorry, man.”  I blew smoke out and looked at Stipple.  He hadn’t had an easy life, but he made the best out of it.  Right out of the service his dad died and he raised his brothers and sisters.  His mom had died before he went into the service.  Sometimes your life is put on hold.  Sometimes it stays that way forever. “Every time he’s in it costs you some serious cheddar.”

“You know why I like talking to you, Ben?”  For some reason, Stipple and I had hit it off immediately.  I had the utmost respect for him.

“Because when I call money cheddar you know exactly what I mean?”

“Because I never have to Barney things down to you.”  That sounded like something Amber would say, not Stipple.

“Has my daughter been in here talking to you?”  Amber was always coming up with new words and phrases.  It was a habit she picked up in high school and she was always ambushing me with a word from left field or a phrase that left me in stitches.

“She’s become a wonderful young lady, Ben.”  He smiled at me.  You took a poll around town, nobody would disagree with him.

“She has, hasn’t she?  Been here?”  Amber liked stopping in the Legion to talk to Stipple.  Stipple was almost like a grandfather to her.  Sara’s father had died a couple of weeks after Amber was born.  My dad lived in Boston, but I saw him rarely.  He was a fairly successful writer and traveled the world.  We weren’t estranged.  We both lived our own lives and intersected when convenient for either of us.  Amber didn’t have a relationship with him.

“You think I’d come up with Barney things down on my own?”

“She’s a one of a kind.”  I had become accustomed to people bragging about Amber. 

“And you’re one lucky man,” he said, getting into his wallet for some more money.  Warren came over to our table and joined us.  We both looked at Warren, waiting for brilliance to emit from his mouth.

“’bout all I can take of that fucking Magruder for one day,” Warren said.  I’d be shocked as shit if Warren didn’t squeeze in one fuck per sentence.

“I hear that,” Stipple said.  He tapped out another cigarette from his pack.  “That shaved head of his. . .”

“I fucking hear that,” Warren said.  All of our hearing, apparently, wonderful.

“You’re off in space all of a sudden, Ben,” Stipple said.

“Have to leave pretty soon and go to Hopkins.”

“Waddya going to the fucking airport for?” Warren asked.

“Picking up a new roommate for my daughter.”  I was waiting.  It didn’t take long.  Warren and Stipple high-fived each other.

“I just know you got something going on at that fucking mansion of yours,” Warren said.  I looked at Stipple and Warren.

“Aren’t you getting a bit worn to be high-fiving people, Stipple?” I asked.

“When you’re my age, any appendage you can raise, you raise.”  Stipple and Warren high-fived each other again.  I wasn’t much on the high-fiving business myself.

“I think our man needs another fucking drink,” Warren said, pointing to Stipple’s empty glass.  I walked the glass up to the bar and pointed to the Jim Beam.  I came back and placed it in front of Stipple.  He nodded his thanks.

“So, what kind of a fucking model you picking up tonight?” Warren asked.

“Japanese girl,” I said.

“Ahhhhhhhh,” Stipple said.  He looked into his glass.  “You talk to war buddies and those Pacific boys say they had it all over us guys fighting the Germans.  Never did care for all that hair in the pits and legs those French girls had when I was there.  But, those Pac boys said some of those oriental girls taught them things they were pretty certain their mothers hadn’t a clue about in this lifetime.”  I didn’t even want to think what my mother knew about in terms of the bedroom.  I was just glad I was here for chrissakes, grateful she’d figured that part of it out.

“Well, how’d you like to fucking be me?” Warren asked.  “I didn’t as much as see a fucking ankle over in Desert Storm.”  They both looked at me.  For some reason Warren assumed, since I was at the Legion, I was naturally a vet of some kind.  The truth was, a friend of mine signed me up as a social member a few years back.  Now, every time Warren talked about Desert Storm, he assumed by my age I had to have been there.  It was pretty obvious I was too young to have served in Vietnam.  Warren came from a family that put a premium on military service.  It was as natural as going to college right from high school was in my family. 

“Breathing is the way I prefer them,” I said.  They both smiled and said some amens to that, brother.  I figured if Warren ever cornered me about what branch of the service I had served in, I would tell him I just couldn’t talk about it.  He’d figure it was too painful for me.  A lot of them couldn’t talk about it.  Maybe he’d figure I was CIA or some undercover bullshit.  It was one of those things I should have cleared up on day one.  Now, day nine hundred and something, I kept trying to avoid the issue. 

“Doesn’t much matter where we served,” Stipple said, “all I know is those mothers were at the ass end of one hell of a beatdown.”  He polished off his drink.  “Gotta go.  Thanks for the drink, Ben.”  Stipple got up and wobbled toward the door.

“He was in a fucking mood,” Warren said.

“Brother again.”

“Fucking Parson?”

“Parson.”

“Motherfucker.”

“Indeed.”  I gathered up my keys and cigarettes.  “I gotta run, Warren.  Have to go to the airport.”

“You fucking want me to go with you, keep you company?”  Warren had a gleam in his eye.

“Well, I appreciate your kindness, Warren, but I’m sure this girl will be nervous enough as it is.”

“I’d calm her fucking nerves.”

“I’m just quite sure you would.”  I shook his hand and walked out the door.

             

. . .from the novel in progress. . .Permanent Declarations of a Temporary Love

Permanent Declarations of a Temporary Love

I looked up and saw somebody coming down the gravel path toward the house.  Amber looked up from her drink.

“Do you think you can control yourself?” Amber asked me.

“Control is needed?”

“Astrid is coming.”

“How I like the sound of that.”

“Somehow I don’t think you’re her type.”

“And her type would be?”

“Someone who might be able to pull off a pair of speedos and tighty whities a bit better than you.”

“I guarantee you, for her, I’d have no problem pulling them off.”

“Well, for a year you sure have been pulling something.”

“That’s not very fair.”  I took another drink.

“Well, your sheets haven’t been pretty.”

“There’s something just wrong about a daughter washing her dad’s sheets.”

“You’re telling me?” 

Astrid made her way up onto the deck.  She sat down directly across from me and crossed her long legs.  She sat there and said nothing.

“Uh oh,” Amber said.

“What?” I asked.  She nodded at Astrid.

“She’s in her Brazilian bitch mood.”  Astrid looked at Amber, then at me.

“Men,” Astrid said.  Wonderful.

“Men?” I asked, stupidly.  And, of course, wrongly.

“Like this one here,” Astrid said, pointing at me.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Amber said.

“Yes, I suppose,” I said.  I figured if I just agreed I couldn’t get in any trouble.  Through my life, I had found there were innumerable ways to get in trouble with women without going to any special difficulty.

“What are you agreeing for?” Astrid asked.  See.  There was never a right answer.

“General principles,” I said.

“What’s wrong?” Amber butted in.

“Men,” Astrid said.

“Established,” I said.  And couldn’t keep my damn mouth shut to save myself.

“See?”  Astrid said, pointing to me again.

“Maybe we could just start over here,” Amber said.

“I was doing this photo shoot when this photographer wanted to rearrange my thong.”  Sounded innocent to me.  But, it would.

“Go on,” I said.  Now they both stared at me.  If that wasn’t an incentive to shut up, I don’t know what.

“So, he’s rearranging it, for what in God’s name I don’t know what reason, and then he thwanked my thong like it was a rubberband.”  I was almost sure this wasn’t the time to laugh so I put my hand up to my mouth, thinking that a safe position.  Astrid was staring at me anyway.  Finally I had to say something.  Which I thought was clever, but, probably wasn’t.

“Can you say thwanked my thong three times fast?”

Astrid calmly took my gin and tonic glass into her hand and deposited the liquid over my head.   She handed me the now-empty glass and then strode off the deck.  “G.H.I., asshole.”  She went back up the path toward the main house.

 “Well, that went well,” Amber said.  She surveyed my dripping hair.  “Boy, Gin and tonic looks good on you.”

“G.H.I.?”

“Get Help Immediately.”   I sat there dripping in liquid enmity, wiping tonic from my eye, licking a drop from my upper lip.

. . .from the novel in progress. . .Permanent Declarations of a Temporary Love

Permanent Declarations of a Temporary Love

“We’re about to get a little visit.”  Amber opened up the letter and scanned it.

“And we are to be so blessed by whom?”  I was guessing overseas models. Ones named Gisele or Frankie. 

“Rin.”  This didn’t sound exotic.  No.  This sounded like one third of a dog.

“Rin?  Let me guess.  A Japanese model?”

“No, nothing like that.  This is a relative of a friend of Kim’s.  Apparently a grandchild of one of the comfort women they located.  It’s pretty complicated.  Actually, Daddy, this is pretty serious stuff.”  I didn’t need serious in my life.

“I see.  And let me guess.  Knowing Sara, we’re rescuing her.   This . . . Rin.  Is that it?”

            “Something like that.”  Sara was a rescuer and Amber a saver.  I was a savorer.  Something possibly further down on the scale of humanity, more in the shallow end of the pool.

“She rescues more people than Mrs. Martin does dogs down at the animal shelter.  We wouldn’t happen to have just any plain normal roommates? Not plain looking ones mind you, just uneventful ones.”

“Well, if you think Shamara is hot and you drool after Astrid, perhaps I should lock you up before you get a load of Rin.”  She handed me a picture from the envelope.

I looked at the picture.  The Japanese girl was breathtaking.  I turned the picture over.  On the back Sara wrote the following:

Amber: This is Rin.

Ben: Hands off!

I turned the picture over again and then looked at Amber.  She mockingly wiped the drool off my chin.

. . .from the novel-in-progress. . .Permanent Declarations of a Temporary Love

John Stewart--It Ain't the Gold

Long ago and far away. . .long before there were such things as blogs. . .long before there was an internet. . .there was an idea for a newsletter--quaint, now. . .Ben Blake and I wanted to publish a music and book review newsletter (and Ben, I swear, when I become more organized, I'll take a picture of the banner you just sent me not too long ago--it's here somewhere). . .blogs and newsletters have grown (maybe we have, maybe we haven't).  This will be an attempt to recreate in spirit what we were after.

For Ben's sake, this blog has no affiliation with him whatsoever.  He is still gainfully employed and has a reputation to keep.  I'm looking for a new career (read employment--drinking wine with Anna--my wonderful neighbor next door--while my blushing bride goes to work every day--has netted me zero dollars--$0.00)--so this will be educational, fun, and hopefully bring a smile to someone's face and PG, but with my humor, verging on PG-13 at times.  No NSFW stuff here.  Did I mention I was looking for a employment?  Anyone?

Along the way there will be bits and pieces of one of my "novels in the drawer," Dreamers on the Rise and two other books I'm working on.  Works-in-progress with works-in-progress titles.  One fiction: Permanent Declarations of a Temporary Love.  One non-fiction: Someone Has to Sell the Wine:  One Man's Search for Meaningful Employment, Mastering a G-Chord on the Banjo, and Discovering Zen Moments


Speaking of a work-in-progress--this blog will also be one--right out of the gates I admit to having absolutely no idea what I'm doing.  Please be patient.