Johnny Pulaski Chapter 9

Posted: March 08, 2006 - 11:56:01 am

I woke up feeling great Thursday morning after my threesome with Amanda

and Caroline. And why the hell shouldn't I? I just lived every guy's

dream and I had just turned sixteen. I was King Shit. Well, I was until

I got to the bathroom to drain Kong anyway. Kong was a little sore when

I shook him off but he was taking it like a man. I sidled from the john

to the sink to brush my fangs. When I looked in the mirror I recoiled in

horror. Recoiled because I had a zit on the end of my nose as big as

Mount Vesuvius. I shit you not; it looked as if my nose was growing a

nose. Even worse, the growth didn't even have a head so I could squeeze

it. I brushed, showered and ate breakfast bummed out that I looked like

Bozo the Clown.

When I got to my locker at school Amanda took one look at my nose and

dug out her cell phone.

"Cin, this is Amanda, I've got an emergency, meet me in the bathroom by

my locker," she said cryptically.

She flipped her phone shut and grabbed my arm.

Come with me," she ordered tugging me to the girl's restroom.

She parked me by the door and darted inside. Fifteen seconds later she

came out and pushed me inside. A few girls were touching up their makeup

in front of the sinks but no one seemed upset by my presence. I stood

there embarrassed to death as the girls cycled in and out, my eyes

looking anywhere except toward the stalls. Departees briefed arrivals

about my presence. A few of the girls wandered over to check the growth

on my nose and make suggestions. Finally after about two minutes this

Goth chick pushes through the door and walks over to us.

"Pulaski, this is Cindi Frazier better known as Cin, her father owns

Frazier's Funeral Home. Cin does the make up on the dead people. If

anyone can fix your ugly face she can."

Cin had at least twenty studs in each ear, one in her nose and when she

talked I saw she had a barbell through her tongue. Her hair was black,

shaded towards purple and her black ensemble would have made Dracula

envious. Her face was as pallid white as a Kabuki Dancer's while her

lips were a painted black slash. Cin tilted my head down and said she'd

seen worse. She fished around in a purse the size of a GI duffle bag and

pulled out a plastic case.

"Theatrical make up," she lisped around the barbell.

I closed my eyes as she worked. I didn't really want to see what she was

doing. Judging by her own make up, I figured I was in deep doo-doo. In

less than a minute she swatted me on the ass to turn me toward the mirror.

"There you go pretty boy, good as new."

I squinted open my eyes and stared in amazement. Even staring into the

mirror from a foot away my nose looked completely normal.

I thanked Cin profusely and told her I owed her one. She said she knew

how to find me if she thought of anything. I thanked Amanda and gave her

a kiss.

"I owe you too, Mandy."

She said she had a couple of ideas on how I could repay her already.

Football practice was easy on Thursdays. We practiced executing plays

without pads and had a skull session watching game films of our next

opponent. The game coming up the next night was our final game of the

season. If we won we would be conference champions again and move on to

the regional tournament.

I had just finished my homework and was watching */CSI/* when Amanda called.

"Can you come over for a little while?" she asked.

"Sure Mandy, can't get enough huh?"

She made a funny sound then started coughing. "Jesus Pulaski, you made

me choke on my soda. In your dreams I can't get enough, in real life I

want to talk about this connection thing."

I had her hold on while I asked Dad; when he said yes, I told her I'd be

right over. I went upstairs and brushed my teeth then cut through the

kitchen and grabbed a Bud Light long neck out of the fridge. The beer

wasn't for me; I didn't drink much and couldn't see myself ever

developing the habit.

I cruised up to the gates of Palmdale Trails and stopped, even though my

buddy the guard waved me on. He leaned out of the gatehouse curiously.

"Dude, s'up?" He asked.

His nametag read Al Jerdin. "Nada, Al, how bout you?"

"Same shit, different day," he said with a shrug.

"Here'" I said handing him the beer. "Maybe this will help."

"This is righteous Dude," he said quickly hiding the bottle. "I don't

suppose you got a blunt in there too," he added hopefully.

I laughed and gave him a wave as I gunned my engine and took off.

Jane answered the door when I rang the bell. She was wearing a knee

length charcoal skirt and an expensive looking high-necked white silk

blouse. She had on nylons but was barefooted. The glass of wine she was

holding didn't keep her from giving me a nice hug. Her large breasts

felt good mashed against my chest. I gave her a kiss just serious enough

not to be chaste. When she stepped back I saw Amanda over her shoulder.

When our eyes me she gave me a wink.

"I just got in from the airport," Jane said, " I must look a fright.'

I laughed at that, "you always look beautiful, Jane, and you know it."

It was her turn to laugh.

Jane excused herself to unpack and Amanda told me to come with her.

Amanda led me to her room and told me to sit. Amanda's room was large

and surprisingly feminine, everything was pink or white. I sat down in a

comfortable overstuffed chair next to a table stacked with books. Amanda

sat at her computer in a high-backed leather office chair.

"I've been working on this connection thing you claim Johnny, and I have

a few ideas," she said.

"What kind of ideas?" I asked.

"It came to me this morning when I saw Cin, don't weird out on me till I

finish, okay?"

I nodded; my curiosity peaked.

"Okay, so here goes. In junior high, Cin and I were friends because we

were both different than the other girls, Cin was already going Goth and

I was a big gangly girl who towered over most of my classmates. Your

bimbo cheerleader friends used to call me Lurch.

"Cin was into reading science fiction and fantasy so I started reading

it too. I remember one series of books about a guy they called a

'projecting empath'. This guy sent out waves of good feeling that made

everyone like and trust him. The writer of the books compared his

character to people in real life from Hitler to Gandhi. I think that you

are one of those people Johnny. And for that matter, so are your father

and grandfather. Think about it for a minute. Everyone trusts your

father, and listens to what he says. It's the same with Papa J. People

are starting to be that way with you too.

"With people who have some of your talent, you end up with this

connection thing. I'm betting that all the people you connect with have

strong personalities. I know Caroline, Mom, and I do."

When she wound down, I nodded. "That makes sense, I guess. It explains a

lot."

"There's more, Johnny. Your father, grandfather and you all do this

thing unconsciously. And I'm willing to bet that your charisma is the

strongest of all because you can make the connections you do with some

people. I think that if you worked on your ability you could connect to

anyone like you do with us. If you learned to control it, you could

accomplish anything you wanted in life."

"Wow, Mandy, that's a lot to digest. I'm going to have to think about

this some. Thanks."

"Yeah, well, this History paper isn't going to write itself. Get out of

here; go practice on my Mom or something."

I gave her a kiss and walked back to the living room. I heard Jane

rummaging around in the kitchen so I detoured toward the noise. I stood

in the doorway leaning against the jamb as she decanted herself a glass

of Chablis. Her back was to me so I could stare at her lush body. She

was a full figured woman in the best old school tradition, broad

shouldered, wasp waisted with womanly flaring hips. Her legs were sleek

and long, her ankles trim and tidy. She caught my reflection in the

microwave, turned around and gave me a smile.

"Hi," I said.

"Hi yourself. How about a Coke?" she replied.

I nodded affirmatively and she dug a Diet Coke out of the fridge. Jane

had medium length blond hair cut to frame her face. She was a handsome

woman with full lips and penetrating blue eyes. She leaned hip-shot

against the counter twirling the stem of her wine glass and looking at

me speculatively.

"What?" I asked.

"I'm trying to figure out why I'm not running like hell from you. I see

the way you look at me and instead of being offended or scared it makes

me feel good. It also makes me wonder when you will want to do more than

just look."

I reached out and ran my hand up her bare arm. "Would you be offended or

scared if that were to happen?"

She gave a little shiver at my touch. "Probably not, but I would feel

bad because you are Amanda's boyfriend."

"Well then you have one less thing to feel bad about, because Amanda and

I aren't going together, we discussed it but we decided we would do

better as just friends."

"Really? I don't know if that makes me happy or not. Amanda seemed to be

coming out of her shell since she met you. I was starting to worry about

her orientation until the dance. I was even hoping you two might even

get a little intimate. I know that's awful for a mother to say, but

she's my world now, and I want her life to be as pain free as it can

possibly be. Of course, I would accept it if she were gay, but her life

would be so much harder."

I had to tread lightly here. "Jane what if Amanda wasn't gay but liked

both sexes? That's not so unusual the last ten years or so."

"Oh my! That never occurred to me. Johnny, I just want her to be happy."

"Me too, and I want the same for you. So quit worrying and come here.

I've been dying to kiss you since I walked in."

I was leaning back against the counter when I said that. Jane put her

wine glass down and stepped between my legs. She put her hands on either

side of my face and looked into my eyes. "I must be crazy," she mumbled.

Then her lips locked on mine for a long sensuous kiss. Jesus, the woman

was the best kisser I'd ever met. When she let me go we were both

breathing erratically. I wanted more of those kisses but I had to get home.

"I gotta go, Jane but next time you aren't getting away so easily."

"I'll take my chances," she said huskily.

When I got home I scrubbed off the make up Cin had painted me up with.

It took some doing as that stuff was made to stay on. My beak didn't

look as bad that night; the zit had come to a head and the pink ring had

shrunk to manageable proportions. I squeezed the thing gently then

applied the Clearasil Amanda had loaned me.

The next morning the zit was almost gone, thank God. I showered,

scrubbed my face twice and then reapplied a dab of zit goop. You could

tell it was still there, but it least it wasn't the most prominent

feature on my face. School was a breeze that Friday, we had a huge pep

rally for the football team and the teachers were in the spirit of

things so we coasted all day. I experimented with Amanda's theory some

too, asserting myself on a couple of occasions where I would normally

have just kept my mouth shut. I wasn't sure if people were agreeing with

me because I had some gift, or if they were just agreeing. I also wasn't

all that keen on the whole idea, anyway. I mean I was sixteen, I was

just a kid, and life was pretty much going my way; why the hell did I

need to influence people?

The football game was at home that night. We were playing a middle of

the pack conference rival with a five and three record. Coach had been

harping all week about not looking past Oak Bay thinking we were a lock

for the play-offs. His exhortations worked because we came out on fire.

We were ahead twenty-eight to zip at the half. So the second half I

played tight end with the second string offense. Coach left the starting

defense in for the third quarter so I played iron man for a while. I

loved it. I also loved catching my first touchdown pass in the fourth

quarter. Coach wasn't trying to run up the score or anything, as a

matter of fact he even talked to the Oak Bay coach at the half about it.

He just wanted to tune up his reserves for the playoffs.

So anyway, I got a game ball for my efforts, the ball I caught for the

touchdown as a matter of fact. I guess I must have been giddy with

euphoria as I ran towards the locker room to do what I did next. As I

passed by our cheerleaders, Shelia Cavanaugh, the head cheerleader and

Homecoming Queen, told me nice game. I slammed on the brakes and turned

towards her.

I took her hand in mine and leaned down to whisper in her ear, "Good

enough to go out with me some night?"

She pulled back and looked at me funny. "Maybe," she said sotto voce,

"call me and find out. We're in the book, T. Cavanaugh."

I smiled, dropped her hand and sprinting toward the locker room just as

Coach Boyette was about to crawl up my ass.

Now asking out Shelia Cavanaugh was way out of character for me, and her

saying maybe was ten times as surprising. I'm telling you Shelia's

pooh-pooh smelled like roses at Palmdale Senior High. She was a senior

and Miss Everything in the yearbook. Her mother was Donna Murphy

Cavanaugh, Jake Turner's first cousin, and a vice-president of Turner

and Thornton holdings. Shelia was about as Irish as I was Polish; she

was medium height and had this fabulous copper colored hair, that hung

to her fabulous ass, that was held up by her fabulous legs... well, you

get the picture.

Now I didn't feel a connection with Shelia but I had felt a little back

current as I held her hand. It was as if after I held her hand and

whispered to her I could feel a little response. I didn't know what kind

of sense to make out of that. Nor did I know what the hell I was going

to do about calling her. Sometimes when I was excited I let my alligator

mouth override my hummingbird brain.

After the post game meeting and a quick shower, I was in street clothes

headed for my truck. When I got to it Caroline, Amanda and Jane were

standing there waiting for me. All three hugged me and congratulated me

on my game. I offered to take everyone to Pizza Hut to celebrate. It

took a little convincing but Jane agreed to go as well. Caroline hadn't

been for a ride in my truck yet so she hopped in and we roared off.

Amanda and her Mom were driving straight to the restaurant but Caroline

insisted on going the long way. When we were on the road she turned in

her seat to face me.

"Johnny, Amanda and I really get along great and sex with her is very

exciting. It is also easier for me to see her because it looks normal

for two pals to hang around together. We still want to spend time with

you occasionally but we are going to spend time together too. Are you

okay with that?"

"We are not exclusive, I told you that Caroline. What you two do is your

own business. You just need to remember that Mandy is trying to come to

grips with her sexuality. If she falls in love with you it could be bad

for both of you."

Caroline nodded her understanding. "We talked about that and we talked

about how we felt about you, I think that things only get emotionally

sticky when you are in the equation. You are some kind of guy Johnny,

even if you don't know it."

"I know I'm some kind of lucky guy because I have such a hot little

lover as you," I replied.

"Yes your are," she agreed. "And I'll make you even luckier if you

volunteer to take Mrs. Pullman home so Mandy and I can have some time

together."

"For you, anything," I said magnanimously.

Wasn't this a fine turn of events. I sure hoped that Caroline knew what

she was doing because I could very easily see Amanda falling in love

with her. Well Caroline had sure made things plain to me, and I could

only hope she'd do the same with Amanda. So at Pizza Hut I abetted their

scheme and offered to drive Jane home so they could go to a party on the

beach. Of course only the three of us knew it was a party of two.

It was a crisp fall evening and Jane was wearing jeans, a sweater and a

brown tweed woman's suit coat. It was the first time I'd seen her in

trousers, and as always she looked good. I especially liked the

high-heeled boots she was wearing. They actually made her a little

taller than me. I walked Jane out to my truck and opened the door for

her. She swung gracefully up into the seat. I let myself in and flipped

up the armrest. Jane looked at me and smiled that knowing smile of hers

then slid over next to me. I fished out the center seat lap belt and

buckled her in.

"Can't be too safe," I said, then added, "do you need to go straight home?"

"Not necessarily, is there somewhere you want to go?"

"Yeah, it just seems too nice a night to end it yet."

"You're driving Johnny, go where you want."

I drove her down to the old Boy Scout Camp out by Lake Owensby and

parked under some trees by the public boat ramp. I helped Jane down from

the truck and we walked out onto the short fishing pier. We sat on a

bench at the end of the pier and listened to the sounds of nature around us.

"It's beautiful out here Johnny, I didn't even know this place existed."

It was beautiful, in that swampy Florida way that was so rapidly

disappearing. Bullfrogs croaked in some weird rhythm all around us, as

in the distance two barn owls hooted back and forth. There was just

enough moonlight to let us make out the triangular heads of gators

bobbing on the gentle windblown waves. I sat there with my arm around

her, as content as the Dalai Lama. Jane broke me out of my reverie by

cupping my chin and turning my head so we could kiss. She showed me the

kiss we shared in her kitchen was not a fluke. As our tongues gently

dueled I slipped my hand into her jacket and palmed one of her breasts

on the outside of her sweater. It felt even larger than it looked, as

even my big Pulaski hand couldn't cover it.

We left shortly after that, both of us in a comfortable sensuous mood. I

drove her home and stopped at the gatehouse. I didn't recognize the

guard but he seemed to know me. He told me to wait then ducked back into

the gatehouse. When he returned he handed me a resident's window cling

to affix to my windshield.

"Al said to give this to you if I saw you," he said.

I thanked him and drove on to Jane's house. I walked her to her door and

we nuzzled in a dark spot on the porch. She unlocked the door and I

started to leave. Her hand on my arm stopped me.

"You can come in if you want Johnny. I'm already seduced, all you have

to do is finish what you started."

I kissed her hand and told her when we got together I wanted to make it

special for her.

"Okay, Johnny, as long as you know how I feel, I'm too old to play the

ingénue."

As tired as I was that night, I still laid in bed unable to sleep. My

mind was a swirl of kaleidoscopic visions of first one woman then

another. I was happy with myself that I had strong feeling for every

woman I slept with, or planned to sleep with. Yet I wondered why I

didn't just find one girl to go steady with like most of my

contemporaries did. Then again, I was barely sixteen, how serious could

I really get? Over and above all these thoughts was my looming date with

Rachael tomorrow night. I fell asleep finally with a thousand questions

and not a single answer.

I was up early Saturday morning despite my lack of sleep. I had a busy

day mapped out starting with breakfast with my grandfather. I showered

and was downstairs at seven; right on time, Papa pulled up and honked

for me. Papa had plans for later that morning that include Jethro, so

the big goofus was sitting in the back seat with his head hung out the

window. I climbed into the cab and suffered one of Jetho's chin to

forehead licks before we jetted towards Mama's.

The restaurant was filled with tradesmen this early on a Saturday

morning but, as always, a table was magically available for us. Papa

headed for the little boy's room as Tina glided over with coffee and

menus for us. I kept having to revise my estimate of Tina's age

downward. Today she didn't look a day over thirty-five. Tina stood

across from me and placed the coffee and menus on the table. When she

leaned across the table to put mine in place I had an unobstructed view

down her shirt. You could park a semi in her cleavage. She looked at me

as I tried manfully to tear my eyes away from her bosom. She looked down

at her own breasts, smiled and gave me a wink.

"Sorry," I mumbled, red faced.

"If I minded you looking Johnny, I'd have worn a different shirt."

I learned how to treat people watching my father and grandfather, but it

always amazed me to see them in action. Most of the men in the

restaurant came over to our table to say hello to Papa. He greeted each

of them by name and introduced me. If they called him Mr. Pulaski he

used their last name with the appropriate honorific, if they called him

by his first name, he did the same. Papa treated the grubbiest drywaller

exactly the same as he treated men in suits.

Papa had ordered a sausage and egg sandwich to go for Jethro. When we

got to his truck he tossed the sandwich into the back seat still wrapped

in wax paper. Jethro ate the sandwich, paper and all, in two large

gulps. Papa drove me home so I could do my chores, then he and Jethro

headed for Home Depot. My dad must have thought he was a comedian that

day, because my chores were written out and taped to the refrigerator.

At the top of the page he had written 'honey-do list'. I sighed and

broke out the cleaning supplies. Last night I was a football hero and

lady's man; today I was a janitor, cleaning commodes.

I picked up Rachael for our date at six. The first thing she did was

thank me for taking care of her house. I didn't mention that mostly all

I had done was clean up after Caroline and me. Besides, she had Merry

Maids in every two weeks to keep the place spiffy. I took her to this

little Italian Restaurant for supper, with plans of a movie next.

Rachael nixed the movie idea.

"Let's go somewhere we can talk," she said.

So fifteen minutes later we were sitting on the couch in her house, her

at one end, and me at the other. Our conversation started off badly.

"You can't imagine how much I missed you, Johnny," she had the nerve to say.

"You have a funny way of showing it," I replied coolly.

"I don't blame you for being hurt and angry with me. But try to see it

from my point of view. Us falling in love wouldn't be good for either of

us and I saw that's where we were headed. I thought you needed to have

all the experiences that come with your age and I needed to have the

experiences I lost being married to Jesse. And I was mostly right

Johnny. I've dated some guys my age and older and even slept with a

couple of them and I know you've been bringing girls over here."

She had made some valid points, but regardless of her reasons, dropping

me like she did was wrong, and it rankled.

"You might have been right in what you thought, and I certainly would

never want to be the reason for you missing out on more of what life had

to offer. Your way of telling me sucked thought. And why are you telling

me all this in person now? You could have told me all this on the phone

like last time."

I know, I know, I sounded like a petulant ten-year-old, but dammit,

that's the way I felt.

"Because, Johnny, my life is better with you in it, plain and simple.

And if you want, I'd like to have you in my life." She lowered her eyes

and her voice. "It's the sex too. I thought that when we made love I had

liberated myself sexually and that I would have even better experiences

with older, more practiced men. But it wasn't that way at all. I even

had a three-month affair with one of my professors. He was technically

proficient and he could get me off, but he could never make me climax as

intensely as you did the first time you ever tried it."

Jesus this relationship stuff was so far over my head! I wanted to tell

her to eat shit and die; I wanted to throw her down and ravish her; I

wanted to make tender love to her all night. So what did I do? I sat

there like a bump on a log just looking at her.

"Say something Johnny."

"I don't know what to say, Rachael. But if you think that I'm gonna be

your little fuck toy, forget it; I'm not wired that way, no matter how

hot you are."

"Listen to what I said, Johnny, I want you in my life again, not just in

my bed. Can't we have a relationship that isn't all or nothing?"

We talked for a while longer still sitting on opposite ends of the

couch. I think Rachael was hoping that we could make up for lost time

that evening but I wasn't about to just dive in the sack with her. Sure,

my pride was a factor, but there were also practical considerations,

mainly that she'd been sleeping with other guys. If we made love I'd be

sleeping unprotected with all of them too. Rachael saw the

reasonableness of my point and, although disappointed, she said she'd

get tested for STDs and AIDs Monday. Out of fairness, I agreed to do the

same. We kissed and cuddled on the coach some to seal the deal; I made

sure nothing got out of hand.

I spoke with Shelia Cavanaugh outside Saint Gregory's after Mass on

Sunday. She pouted and asked me why I hadn't called her yet. Go figure.

Shelia looked awfully good in a coral pink dress and matching heels, but

I gotta tell you that her Mom looked almost as good in baby blue. Shelia

introduced me to her Mom, we shook hands, and a jolt ran up my arm. Her

Mom and I dropped the handshake as if we had grabbed a hot pan. Shelia

also introduced me to her father, Thomas Cavanaugh, and her twin

sisters, Elaine and Ellen. I told Mr. Cavanaugh with complete honesty

how lucky he was to get to spend all his time with four of the prettiest

women I had ever seen. He laughed and clapped me on the back.

"You speak your mind just like your Old Man," he said.

I rustled up the nerve to call Shelia that night. I know this is going

to sound prejudiced, but I was surprised at how easy she was to talk to.

In all honesty, I was expecting to either be talking to a stuck up rich

bitch or an empty headed stereotypical cheerleader. Instead we ended up

talking for an hour about all kinds of stuff. Shelia said her Mom had

given her the third degree about me and that her father had raved about

my dad. We made an early evening date for next Friday, the day after

Thanksgiving. It would be a short evening because our first playoff game

was on Saturday at one in the afternoon. Ours would be one of three

playoff games that day at the Citrus Bowl in Orlando.

The short week before Thanksgiving was a breeze at school. Our little

group at lunch grew as Cin and a couple of her Goth friends started

sitting with us. I had never had much interaction with the Goth crowd;

normally they eschewed the company of us regular folk. I don't know why

I was surprised at the normalcy of their conversation, I should have

known better by then. But just hearing them go on about the mundane

topics of everyday teenage life surprise me. I guess my visions of them

sitting around biting the heads off of chickens and waiting for alien

spaceships was perhaps a little off the mark after all. I liked the hell

out of Cin; she was down to earth, sharp as a tack and sweet as she

could be. I think she might have been pretty too, somewhere under that

garish make up.

Dad and I had Thanksgiving with the Hernandez family. Mom was locked

into something and wouldn't be home until Saturday. It was a treat to

eat with them. Maria whipped up a feast that included a decidedly

Mexican slant to traditional turkey and stuffing. You'd think with seven

kids, it would have been a raucous affair but Juan and Maria's kids were

all well mannered and respectful. I fell in love with Maria's sweet

cornbread with jalapenos and so did Dad. Maria proudly told us Caroline

had made it. Caroline's sister Carla weaseled her way into sitting next

to me. So I talked to her quite a bit. I like the way the Hernandez's

worked to fit into American society but still keep their culture alive

at home.

Friday night I drove up to the Cavanaughs', nervous as that guy who won

Survivor at a tax audit. The Cavanaughs lived in a huge three story

colonial mansion on a private road, ten miles west of town. They even

had a gate with a call box next to it. I identified myself to the tinny

voice echoing out of the speaker and drove through the gate when it

swung open. I rang the doorbell when I arrived at the house, halfway

expecting 'Jeeves' the butler to open the door. Instead, Mr. Cavanaugh

did the honors. He greeted me warmly and told me Shelia was still

getting ready. He steered me into a big family room where Mrs. Cavanaugh

was sitting reading a magazine. I sat down where indicated and answered

the usual questions I guessed parents asked on a first date. The

grilling wasn't bad and I wasn't offended by the no drinking lecture.

Shelia saved me after five minutes. Man, I thought Shelia looked good in

school, but in a denim min-skirt she was a wet dream. She kissed both

her parents and I shook hands with them. Even expecting it, the surge

from Mrs. Cavanaugh rocked me. I could tell it did the same to her. She

eyed me speculatively as we dropped our hands; the look wasn't all that

friendly. I opened the door of my pickup and handed Shelia up into the

seat. I was betting the truck was a new experience for her; I had her

figured for a Beamer and Benz kind of gal.

So of course to show just what kind of immature asshole I was, Shelia

said, "I love your truck Johnny, it is way cool."

We hit the road and I hit CD three on my changer; Bon Jovi's */Wanted

Dead or Alive/* blasted out of the speakers. I was a serious classic

rock guy, no new aging, hip hopping, rapping, or techno popping for me.

I put on the CD without even asking Shelia what kind of music she liked.

It was as if I was determined to ruin the date from Jump Street. So

naturally, "Oh, Johnny, how did you know I love Jon Bon Jovi?"

Turns out she liked AC/DC and about everything else I liked too. I was

having trouble not liking this girl. When we pulled up to Olga's to

redeem my gift certificate we had to sit in the truck until Judas Priest

finished wailing on their version of */Johnny B. Goode./* It was one

song Shelia had never heard before. When it ended and I shut off my

truck she asked me if that was my theme song. Her voice was all

innocence but she had this devilish gleam in her big blue peepers.

"It is now," I said.

Aunt Olie was manning the hostess podium when we arrived; I got my usual

big old mushy hug and kiss, and when I introduced Shelia, so did she.

"She is so pretty Johnny, and you are so handsome, I think a special

table is in order."

Olie fixed us up with this primo table for two by the window

over-looking a fountain with colored lights that spewed heavenward out

of a small retention pond. I took the liberty of ordered for us both,

asking if we could have a sampler plate of polish delicacies. Shelia was

honest about what she liked and disliked. Her stock went up another notch.

From Olga's, we hit the Cinemaplex. I snagged us tickets to Oliver

Stone's '*/Alexander'/*, a movie staring Colin Firth that had just come

out. Now I'm no movie critic, I thought '*/Austin Powers'/* was Oscar

material, but if you didn't see this dog, save your money and forget

about renting the DVD. Compare to */'Alexander'/*, the turkey Maria

Hernandez served yesterday was a barnyard pimp. But when Shelia took my

hand shortly after the lights dimmed, I could have sat through a double

screening of '*/Gigli'/*, smiling like Homer Simpson with a handful of

doughnuts.

I had Shelia at her doorstep at ten-thirty. She told me she had had a

wonderful time and asked me if we could go out again. I said most

certainly and that I looked forward to seeing her at the game tomorrow.

I was tired of standing there awkwardly so I just pulled her to me and

laid one on her. She kissed me back with a gusto that weakened my knees.

Then she slipped out of my arms with a giggle and darted into the house.

I was smitten.
Joe J
Chapter 10