Hi, remember me? I know it's been a while but real life often times gets in the way of our fun. I am back at it, albeit at a slower pace than before. You can find me on Mark Zuckerberg's little venture if you care to know what I am up to. A big thank you goes to blackstallion21 for editing this story. Thank you for reading and it's nice to see you again.
Oh yeah, just a word of warning. For a more effective story, I do switch to third person POV just before the epilogue. SH
My name is Carey McDowell and I fucking hate traveling. Hate might not even be a strong enough term. I think I'd rather have my nut sac scrubbed with jalapeno juice and sandpaper than travel. Airports piss me off, stewardesses piss me off, yes I know they prefer to be called "air hostesses" these days but I figure stewardesses is a nicer term than my own preference; sky whores, and most of all having some moron at the TSA checkpoint grope me really pisses me off. Humorless cocksuckers.
Mainly I hate being away from my dogs. Don't get me wrong, I miss my wife too, but we can talk on the phone, we can Skype, and we can have phone sex. I can't talk to my dogs on the phone; I can't have phone walks and petting. Dogs give less than a fuck about Skype. I still don't know why I allow my boss to send me on these fucking trips. Of course, I am the stupid ass that allowed him to talk me into taking a more managerial position with the company.
I am a floor manager for the EXJ valve company in Houston, Texas. I started out there as a floor grunt. I ran whatever machine they needed me to run. Sometimes I welded; sometimes I only turned a wrench. I was, and still am one of those guys who will do whatever needs to be done to get a job done.
I started at EXJ twenty years ago after being laid off from a lumber mill in South Dakota. I only lived in South Dakota for two years and was miserable most of the time; the human body definitely wasn't intended to be outdoors in freezing weather.
I had moved up there because a friend had told me how much money we could make as lumberjacks. He'd already been up there for a year and was making good money. "Better than what we can make in the refineries here," he had told me. He never told me that the guy we were going to work for was a crook and had no licenses.
I didn't find out until my crew was being arrested for trespassing and for cutting on National Forest land without a permit. After three days in jail, I was released because my public defender proved that I had only been with the company for three days and I had only been in South Dakota for a week.
While we were in jail, my buddy, our boss, and half of the crew fled to Oregon. I'd had enough moving and got a job at a lumber mill, I was doing pretty well, but when the timber industry took a hit, so did the lumber mill's business.
I was looking for another job when I got a call from my best friend Jay Kramer. Jay and I had grown up together since we lived less than a block apart as kids. All through school you rarely found one of us without the other. Jay had warned me about the lumberjack deal. But to his credit I never got an "I told you so" out of him.
Jay, as it turned out was looking for a job at the same time as I was and he told me about the place that he'd just applied to. He told me they were just getting off of the ground and it was a great opportunity to get in on the ground floor. "Think about it Skippy," he'd always called me Skippy because he said it was manlier than Carey.
"What better opportunity is there for a pair of 25 year olds? The plants? Shit those guys are always in danger of being blown up, and are usually out in the weather, and unless you're a chemist, you don't make great money. We could work inside and never have a chance of being blown up."
I mulled over what he'd said to me and decided to apply. Three weeks later I was back in Houston and going to work for EXJ. I was a little surprised to find out that Jay had taken a managerial position. Growing up he had pretty much been a fuck-head.
We had both gone to community college. I had found it tedious and boring, so I quit school and went to work. He finished and got some sort of worthless degree in underwater basket weaving or some inane shit. I had at least tried going for business management, but the studying and sitting through class after class just wasn't for me.
So I found great irony in the fact that he'd be sitting behind a desk while I slaved away on the shop floor. I was fine with it though. I was always better with my hands than Jay was. He'd always been more of an idea guy and I was the one who made the idea a reality. So it was fitting that he'd be barking orders he didn't comprehend for me to make work.
Even funnier to me was Loren Grahme; the plant manager and Jay's boss. Loren was a walking contradiction. He was about 100 pounds overweight, but preached how the employees needed to live healthy lifestyles. He claimed to have an open door policy to an office he was never in. He was also so grossly overpaid it wasn't funny, but would scream if any department wanted to spend an extra dollar to get a better quality tool. It was even said that the guys who had to travel were made to stay at Motel 6.
He was also a "devout Christian." yet he was married to a woman named Pam who looked like a porn starlet. Now neither his faith nor his fake looking wife bothered me. What bothered me was the fact that this "great judge of people" would allow Jay around his wife for any amount of time unattended. Jay was a notorious pussy hound.
Every year at the company Christmas party I would see the same scene. Jay would spend a big chunk of the evening dancing with Pam. Loren sooner or later would end up at a corner table with his venders and a few of the more obnoxious sycophants. As soon as the booze started flowing to Loren's table, Pam and Jay would disappear.
After my third year with the company I quit going to the party. It was cheaper to sit at home and drink and I didn't have to get dressed up. I always heard about what I had missed from coworkers the following Monday, and the stories never changed.
I had to laugh my ass off though the year that they decided to move the party from the company conference rooms to the Jenkins Hotel banquet room. Loren was such a tightwad, but I had heard that Pam had pushed him for the more lavish setting. Several of us thought she was tired of fucking Jay in the offices and wanted a proper bed.
Jay and I had always had a running joke between us that by time we turned forty, we would have fucked every single female in Houston. So you can imagine my surprise when Jay approached me at my 30th birthday party and introduced me to his fiancée Brandi.
Now allow me to paint a picture for you. I am 6 foot 2 and have weighed 220 pounds for the best part of the last fifteen years. I didn't work out until I took my current position. Jay is 5 foot 7, and might weigh 140 pounds. He is small and wiry but he moves like a guy twice his size. I had always had the expectation that if Jay ever did tie the knot it would have been to a 36-24-36 playmate bombshell with the IQ of a turnip.
Brandi is at least 5 foot 10. She's nowhere near willow thin, but neither can she be considered fat. She is curvy in all of the right places and soft where a woman should be. Not the empty headed pair of tits that Jay typically chases let alone dates. I couldn't wait to get him out on the golf course to find out the story.
As it turned out I didn't need to go golfing to get the story, Brandi told me all about it. She and Jay had met at a managerial conference in Baton Rouge. The way she told it was she had been stepping off of an elevator when this "fake plastic Barbi whore" went running into the elevator and quickly closed the door.
She'd been poised to yell an insult at the closing door when she was knocked off of her feet by this clumsy dork that had been chasing Barbi and all of her notes went flying. I laughed as I pictured Jay, who is as athletic as a cat on polished linoleum, chasing pam around the hotel while Loren no doubt was bragging to others how great a guy he was.
She told me the dork, as she pointed at Jay who got a "who me?" look on his face, helped her pick up all of her notes and helped her put them back in order over coffee. They'd had dinner that night and the night after. She ran an architect firm in Conroe so they were able to continue seeing one another after the conference. I wondered how Pam had handled being passed over for a bigger girl.
As I spent more and more time with them I grew to love Brandi. Not in a "Hey I want to fuck the ever loving dogshit out of you" way, but as one loves a sister. In a way she became the sister I always wanted. My real sister has always been a complete cunt so I relished the idea of having a sister that I could stand to be around for more than ten minutes a year.
At their wedding I was third to dance with the bride. After he'd danced with Pam once, I pulled Jay aside and told him that if he ever hurt Brandi I'd kick the shit out of him in a heartbeat. He told me I had nothing to worry about; his man-whore days were over.
Mine however were kicking into high gear. For a few years I was pretty much fucking anything with a pulse. There were weekends that I would bed six different women. Unfortunately I was also drinking too much. Drinking, fucking and work was all I had in my life. Five years and three bouts with the clap later it all came to a head.
During my wild oat sowing span I had one basic rule. I would not knowingly persue a married woman. I'm sure one or two slipped through the cracks, but generally if I saw even the slightest sign she was married I cut ties and ran.
I had an epiphany following a Lynyrd Skynyrd moment. It was just like the song
"Gimme Three Steps"
except the place was Ron's not The Jug, and her name wasn't Linda Lu, it was Sandra, or Mona, or some shit like that. I didn't ask him to give me three steps, I took them. What had started out as a typical Friday night changed my life forever.
I was in a bar in Deer Park dancing with my intended conquest for the night. I hadn't even gotten around to figuring out if she was married or not. I knew all of the signs were there that she was out to get laid, and she was paying more than ample attention to me.
While we were dancing I saw a guy making a b-line for us. I knew from experience when a guy comes in the door and straight to a dancing couple that he's not looking to cut in.
I saw the gun in his waistband before he went for it. I told the girl "I think your husband is unhappy," and her eyes went wide and her jaw unhinged. She spun to face him, but he was looking directly at me.
She started saying something to him and he pushed her aside and came at me. He was distracted enough that he wasn't ready for my preemptive strike. My fist flew out and caught him right on the bridge of the nose. I could hear the sickening crunch as his nose broke. His left hand went to his nose as it began to gush blood, and his right hand continued toward the gun as he fell back.
I saw him hit the floor and I made for a side exit. Once I was in the parking lot I sprinted around to the front of the building and jumped into my truck. As I peeled out leaving the parking lot a loud ping sounded over the squealing of my tires. It was followed by another. I looked in my rear view mirror and saw the guy with blood pouring out of his face aiming the gun in my direction. I saw the muzzle flash and heard another ping.
I hung the first right I could and drove aimlessly along the residential streets for about an hour. After I was sure that I wasn't being followed I pulled into a gas station and got out to survey the damage.
My tailgate bore two distinctive bullet holes. When I discovered that the third shot had ricocheted off of the cab just below the driver's side window, I was shaken. It was at least an hour before I was able to drive home. I knew then that my days of one night stands and sport sex were over.
Call it God, call it fate, or call it a scientific word I can't pronounce; it changed my outlook. Almost getting my ticket punched for the sake of seeking a little pussy made me realize that guys are fucking territorial, and I had been damn lucky to that point. I vowed to myself that I'd never again do the bar scene. I wasn't sure if I'd ever see the inside of a honkey-tonk again.
Just over 12 hours later I found myself in unfamiliar territory. For the first time since I could remember I found myself at home on a Saturday night. I had a crappy little TV with only rabbit ear aerials, because I had never watched TV. I drank myself into a stupor to ease the boredom.
The next day I went out and bought a TV and a VCR, and I splurged and bought a DVD player and a few movies. Monday morning I called and got satellite service. The following weekend was a lot more bearable.
For the next few years I never went out on weekends. When the guys at work would ask about my weekend conquests I only added to the legend. Nobody seemed to notice that I had less and less detail for my yarns. I told them I was at bars I knew they'd go nowhere near. A couple of years on my birthday I'd go have a quiet dinner with Jay and Brandi, but other than that I stayed home and became a movie buff.
One afternoon I was discussing movies with a guy and I overheard another guy comment that he didn't know how a pussy hound like me found time to see movies. After that I kept my mouth shut about all of the movies I had seen. My life changed again five years ago.
I had a buddy in high school named Terry Jarvis. Terry had moved away right before our senior year and I hadn't heard from him until about three years after I gave up my bar room lifestyle. Terry was the only one who really knew I wasn't out every night.
He dropped by one Friday night and found me at home. After that he'd stop by every once in a while and have a beer or two. Terry never did care much for Jay. I think it had something to do with Jay fucking his cousin, but I never found out for sure. One night after a twelve pack I told him all about my life altering night and why I didn't party any more.
He told me that he fully understood and suggested that I get counseling. I told him that I fully understood and told him to fuck himself. It was bad enough that he knew my issue, no way was some total fucking egg head stranger going to hear my tale.
Terry came by for a beer one Saturday evening and invited me to a birthday party they were throwing for his baby sister Renee. Renee was turning thirty. She had been married for six years to some guy from Missouri, but they had divorced shortly after her 28th birthday. He had been a big enough asshole to have her served at her birthday party.
From what I was told, when the process server knocked on the door and asked for Renee, she thought he was a stripper for her party. Terry told me that they had just quit getting along and he'd decided to divorce her. I found it funny that he didn't threaten to de-nut me if I tried to get into her laundry.
I arrived at the party and was instantly underwhelmed. I had braced myself for loud-mouthed drunks, giggly weed tokers and half-dressed harlots, and I got grandparents and a barbeque. Terry had a huge back yard and very little of it was being used.
Somehow I found myself caught up a conversation with Terry's grandfather and father about the state of the oil business. Terry's father was a truck driver, and his grandfather had been a rough neck before an accident on an offshore rig had rendered him disabled.
He, like many of the rough necks of old thought that the guys on the rigs now had it too easy. He had just started into a rant on the sorry state of professional football when I excused myself to go find a beer, or to hang myself which ever opportunity presented itself first.
As I neared the cooler Terry caught me and said "Don't worry. I have a younger crowd coming after Nana and Papa leave."
"Oh? But I so love hearing about how all men today are pussies," I told him as we laughed. "Your grampa has never failed to crack me up. Did you tell your sister you were having a party for her?"
He seemed kind of embarrassed that she hadn't showed yet. "I think she spent her day in Galveston at the beach. She should be here before much longer."
I grabbed a beer and went back to listen to the newest rant. I thought about the last time I had seen Renee. She'd been a freckle faced kid with braces and pig tails calling her brother a "booger eater" or something of that caliber.
I was lost in my thoughts when calls of "Hey y'all" began ringing out like a redneck alarm clock. The gate opened and four gorgeous women came through the gate. I recognized two of them immediately. Renee was still freckle faced and pig tailed, although her body had not stayed true to the ten year old form. She had a rack that wouldn't quit and an ass to match. The other girl I recognized was Elizabeth Spears.
Elizabeth or "Lizzy" as she liked to be called had been Renee's best friend forever. Lizzy had been a pudgy girl with braces and stains adorning all of her clothing, and if you had told me back then that these two would grow up hot enough to make a blind man sport wood I would have laughed in your face. I didn't know the other two girls with Renee and Lizzy, but they paled in comparison with the staggering beauties that had preceded them through the gate. I was truly speechless.
Renee came around and greeted her grandfather and great-grandfather. I could do no more than nod at her when she looked my way. I was trying damn hard not to look like a sex starved fool, but I was suddenly reminded that I had only been with my hand for the past few years.
A while later I was looking across the gathering at Lizzy; OK I was staring and most likely drooling. I was so enrapt that I didn't notice Renee standing next to me. Worse yet I didn't notice that she had been talking to me.
"Huh," I asked trying to sound suave and failing miserably.
Renee laughed and said, "I said, I can introduce you to her so you don't have to gawk from afar."
I laughed, "No, that's OK. I just can't get over how much she changed. You either. I still remember you trying to embarrass your brother and I when we were on your parents' patio with the Froder twins."
"Yeah. I never could get your attention back then. Heck, even now it's my day and you're staring at Lizzy."
I was taken aback.
Since when had she wanted my attention? I was struggling to come up with the right words when she let me off the hook. "I don't blame you. She's hot."
"Actually so are you."
"Yeah? I'm glad you think so. My guy thinks so too."
"He's a lucky guy," I said with just a touch of jealousy running through me. "Where'd you meet Mr. Lucky?"
"Mr. Lucky? Are we just a tad jealous?" She was giving me a funny look.
"No need to be. You're a decade younger than me, and my close friend's sister."
"Oh don't give me that 'I'm your brother's best friend' crap. If you wanted me, Carey you'd be staring at me like that. Even the frogs in the grass can see where you are gazing. Hey it's cool. She's young, she hot and most of all she's single and looking."
"Who said I'm looking," I asked her.
"Terry told me about you. Come on Carey, you were never the type to hide in a hole. He asked you here so you'd find a good woman. You found one and all you're doing is staring at her."
"Staring at who?"
I turned to see who had just asked that and looked deep into the arctic blue eyes of Elizabeth Spears. I turned to look at Renee. She was wearing one of those "I got you good" shit eating smirks.
I was flabbergasted and my mind was running at a hundred miles per second trying to come up with something to say. I knew I had to look like a complete pervert. Luckily Renee had mercy and said, "Some hot looking girl who was standing over there."
Lizzy turned to see where Renee was indicating and Renee elbowed me in the ribs. "Talk to her," she silently mouthed.
"I must have missed her," said Lizzy with a strange look.
"Yeah I think she ducked out of the gate or something," said Renee as she elbowed me in the ribs again.
"Yeah, well I need to get going dear. I have to be up early in the A M. I'll see you on Wednesday night though for your party," Lizzy said to Renee. They both moved toward the gate with Renee throwing me looks whenever Lizzy seemed to be looking the other way.
My next goal was to slip out of the party before anyone could invite me to this other party, which I was sure, was to be held at a bar. I managed to avoid Renee the rest of the evening by moving from group to group. Finally I bade Terry and his wife Linda farewell and went home.
I figured after all of the beers I would sleep right away. One part of me was pissed that I had avoided getting invited to the party and a second shot at Lizzy. The other part was relieved I wouldn't have to either come up with some lame excuse not to go. In the end I rubbed one out while picturing Lizzy and Renee doing body shots.
On Monday evening I went to the grocery store after work. I am always on the lookout for girls I might have spurned during my wild days. As I was moving about the aisles perusing the wares, I saw Lizzy pass the other end of the aisle I was on. I figured if I saw her close enough I would say hi, but remembering the impending party, I wasn't going out of my way to run into her.
I was browsing the frozen pizzas trying to see where I would get the most for my dollar, when I saw her again. She was looking at the frozen entrees. I moved down the aisle towards her as I looked over the frozen pizza choices.
I glanced over to see some slob in a dirty white wife beater leering at her from behind. She didn't seem to be paying any mind to him. I watched for a moment as he pretended to be looking at the diet frozen entrees in the case next to the case she was looking in. I say he was pretending, because his cart had several containers of bacon, a few bags of potato chips and a case each of soda and beer.
"Hey, you might want to be careful hun or you'll melt everything in the freezer," he said to her.
"Did he just actually fucking say that?"
I thought as I tried to stifle my laughter.
Without missing a beat, she walked over to me and asked, "Don't you hate it when people leave the shit they don't want in the wrong section of the store?"
I wasn't absolutely sure what she was getting at but I played along, "Yeah. Some folk are just too damned lazy."
"Yes they are honey. Remind me to tell the next clerk we see that there is a misplaced item in the freezer section that definitely belongs on the fat slob aisle."
I lost it and started laughing as hard as I had in a long time. The guy in the wife beater turned a unique shade of red and high tailed it out of the freezer aisle. Lizzy and I stood there laughing together for a few more minutes. One guy quickly grabbed a TV dinner and split as if he'd catch something from the two of us.
"I'm in the mood for Chinese," she said. I glanced at her basket and saw no Asian staples.
So like a dummy I blurt out, "I think the Asian food is on aisle 8."
The sound of laughter once again filled the frozen food aisle. This time Lizzy was the only one in on the joke. She looked at me and stopped. "Oh, you were serious?"
I suddenly came to grasp with the situation. "OH ... Well I actually didn't think a young hotty would ask an old fart like me to dinner. I do know a place nearby if you're game."
"Old fart? You're not even forty yet, let alone an old fart."
I blushed at her compliment and offer her my arm. We left our baskets in the middle of the aisle and left the store. We went to a little place near my house. I had them deliver all the time so I knew the food was good. We chatted as we ate, and I kept imagining sweet and sour sauce dripping off of her perky nipples.
Watching Lizzy Spears eat was a sensual experience, even if only one of us was in on the game. As we were waiting for the check, my mind was already deciding which images I was going to play in my mind as I slapped little Carey around later on. I was brought out of my pre-masturbatory wool gathering by a simple question.
"So, is your place near here?"
"Yeah," I answered thinking she was making conversation. "I live just across the park, about three blocks away."
"Well your place is definitely closer than mine so let's go."
Several sweaty hours later she lay panting beside me. "Do you know how long I have dreamed of that Carey?"
"Dreamed of sex? Well I imagine you started dr..."
She silenced me with an elbow to the ribs. "You jack ass. I meant how long I have dreamed about fucking you. I'll tell you how long. Do you remember the night you and Terry camped out in that old camper?"
"Yeah. I remember we camped out in that camper many times. I'm sure you and Renee did as well."
"Yeah we did, but we never had guests."
My mind went back instantly to the one night Terry and I had the Froder twins in the camper after his folks had gone to bed. Lizzy saw the recognition dawn on my face. "Yeah. THAT night."
I tried in vain to remember exactly what I had done, but the image was fuzzy. I did remember that Jessica and Melissa Froder were identical twins. I know Terry and I had swapped them a few times that night. I may have even gone around the world with Jess.
"When you made Jessica scream like a banshee I didn't know what it meant, but it has been in my memory since then and I have wanted it ever since I understood. And Carey, you were definitely worth the wait."
She rose from the bed and began dressing. "You don't have to leave," I told her. "Hell, I'll even sleep in the wet spot."
"I do have to leave. I have to be up early and it's a long drive to my apartment."
"How long of a drive can it be?"
"My apartment's in Galveston. So it is a pretty good drive."
"If you live in Galveston why do you do your grocery shopping in Pasadena? Seriously, who drives 30 miles for groceries? Don't the stores in Galveston sell frozen food?"
She let out a sigh. "Carey, you are a gorgeous man and an incredible fuck, but you just aren't too swift on the uptake."
I lay there stupefied as she finished dressing. She walked over and kissed me deeply. "I'll see you Wednesday."
"Sure," I said not full realizing what I had just agreed to. As the door closed it struck me that she had stalked me. I suddenly felt dumb. "See you Wednesday," I said into the darkness.
"Fuck! Wednesday! Renee's birthday! Son of a bitch!"
I had been snookered.
I was fucked up all day long over the whole birthday party thing. My buddy Cliff asked me why I was in la la land all damn day. I told him that I had been invited to an event I didn't care to go to.
"Ah, it might interfere with getting some pussy huh?"
"Yeah, something like that," I said.
"Just dodge the phone call bro. It's that simple. When the event is over you say you forgot and your phone was fucked up."
Lizzy didn't have my phone number. I didn't have a land line and my cell was not listed in the phone book. I supposed if she wanted to get in touch with me, she'd have to drive all the way from Galveston again.
I was feeling pretty good as I drove home. On one hand I might not get another chance with Lizzy. But on the other, I wouldn't have to face a bar crowd. I stopped at the grocery store again, since I didn't get any groceries the day before. I got home and turned on my cell to find I had 3 messages. I also had three text messages and a voice mail from a number I didn't know.
The first text was an address in downtown Houston. The next one was a time, 8:00 to be precise. The third text simply said
"Thank you for last night.
""How the fuck did she get my number?" I asked the empty room. I suddenly knew who the number belonged to.
I dialed my voice mail box and was treated to Lizzy's sweet drawl.
"Hey handsome. I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of calling my cell from yours while you were in the bathroom last night. I texted you the address and time of Renee's party; so I will see you there. Oh and Carey, I can't wait to see you. I'll be wearing something sexy just for you."
She made a kissing sound just before she hung up.
Fucking Cliff and his advice. Cliff had obviously never run up against a go getter like Lizzy. I spent a sleepless night trying to think of a way to avoid the party and failed. I actually called off of work that day for the first time since I had been there.
I finally fell asleep but was awakened around ten by Quiet Riot's
"Cum on Feel the Noize."
I was about to curse the bastard playing music while I was trying to fuck Catherine Zeta Jones when I realized it was my cell phone's ring tone I was hearing.
I hit the answer button and tried to say something intelligible, but only managed to mumble something that sounded like English.
"Carey? You sound like you just woke up."
"Not yet. In a while."
"Do you want me to call you back later?"
I finally realized I wasn't dreaming and I was talking to Lizzy.
"No babe. I just had a rough night and finally fell asleep a bit ago."
"You called me babe. Now I'm all twitter pated. You're not sick are you? I would hate for you to miss the party tonight. I am so looking forward to seeing you."
I almost played the card she'd dealt me and said I was too sick to go, but I heard the profound disappointment in her voice and told her that I'd be there. She let out a joyful squeal and a kissing sound and hung up the phone.
I fell right back to sleep and dreamt of an endless string of maniacs pulling guns while I danced with Catherine Zeta Jones. I finally woke up around 1:30 and watched some TV.
had cheating stripper spouses. After a few hours of mind numbing daytime television I showered and got dressed for the party.
"Are you pussy whipped? You go without for a few years and then you go all stupid for the first chick you boink?"
I have no idea why, but my internal monologues always sound like a boastful high schooler.
Maybe I was pussy whipped. For the first time in my life the girl had come after me. I had chased after and participated in too many unfulfilling relationships to count. During my time away from the bars I never thought of one of the women I had bedded over the years. Not even the one who almost got me killed.
So here was Lizzy; 29 years old, smart, fun and attractive as hell, she wanted me, she chased me, and she had occupied most of my waking thoughts. Was I in love? Not yet but it wouldn't take too much. I was also convinced that the feeling was mutual, even though I was pushing the big four oh, and had gotten a bit soft around the middle.
I got to the club just before eight. I could hear the thumping bass from the sound system as I got out of my truck. I looked around and couldn't see Lizzy's Miata anywhere.
I walked to the front door where a greasy haired guy in a cheap suit requested my ID. He gave it the once over and nodded his head toward the door and told me to enjoy myself. As soon as I walked in the door I was assaulted by smoke, pulsing lights, and loud crappy music.
I normally have classic or southern rock playing in my truck or at home so I am not familiar with the loud pounding crap with its electronic screeching and space sounds. The place was jam packed with all flavors of assholes. I would have expected a crowd like this on a Friday or Saturday night; it made me wonder if any of these people had jobs.
I spotted Renee across the floor and started wading through the sea of tattooed guys and scantily clad little girls. Once again I was reminded that my youth is ancient history. Almost every motherfucker in the place had more metal sticking out of their bodies than was in my truck.
I do feel somewhat comforted by the fact that I never frequented bars like this and was not likely to run into any ghosts from my past. I made it through the writhing masses and laser lights to find a surprised Renee. She said something, but from three feet away I couldn't hear her over the "BOOM BOOM BOOM" thrumming that seemed to permeate the air.
"I didn't expect to see you here," she yelled into my ear.
"I didn't expect to be here either," I yelled in hers.
"How did you even find out..." then a surprised look came over her face. "Lizzy told you, which means she..." The look on my face must have confirmed what she thought.
I couldn't read the look on her face, but she paused as she was about to say something. I noticed her attention was drawn behind me so I turned to see what had caught her eye. I was rendered speechless.
I saw Lizzy walking through a parted crowd. It seemed that every swinging dick in the place was trying to talk to her or staring at her backside as she passed. A couple of the guys who approached her were rewarded with nothing more than a dirty look. I can't blame them for swarming her; she was definitely a vision of beauty.
She wore a red dress that almost looked as if it had been painted on. It hugged every curve of her fabulous body. The skirt stopped just shy of mid-thigh and was slit almost to her waist on both sides. Her hair and make-up made her appear nearer to the writhing horde's age than her own thirty years.
She walked directly to me and kissed me fully and deeply. Any dreams the other males in the place had died on that kiss. You could almost hear the air being let out of their egos.
"I am so glad you made it baby," she yelled into my ear. "I have been looking forward to this all day long." She kissed me again and turned to greet Renee. Then she and Renee huddled in conversation. I couldn't tell anything from their facial expressions and of course I couldn't hear a damned word.
After their conversation, everyone in the group moved to an area away from the dance floor. The bar was less crowded back there and you could actually talk; you still had to yell, but you didn't have to invade anyone's personal space.
Everyone was drinking and having a good time. After a few beers and a shot of Jack Daniel's I thought I was able to handle the dance floor. I really didn't know how to dance like everyone was, but it didn't seem to matter. Lizzy kept her body in tight to me and I just moved with the "booms" like I saw everyone else doing.
As we were doing what passed for dancing, I saw a guy approaching rapidly out of the corner of my eye. He walked up and tapped Lizzy on the shoulder and the world went into slow motion for me. I saw, or thought I saw him reach toward his back pocket area. I know a lot of guys keep guns stashed in the small of their back so when the voice in my head yelled
"RUN YOU TWITTERPATED TWIT!"
Before I even realized that I had reacted I was out the side door and in my truck. I was breaking traffic laws right and left getting out of the area. I kept hearing a strange sound. It was a quick buzz followed by a zing. I mentally counted the number of times I heard it. Eight times! The guy must have had a semi auto to send eight bullets my way.
I got several blocks away and then got onto the freeway. I was flying on the freeway when the sounds started again.
"Fuck! He's chasing me!"
I didn't know what kind of guy had the balls to be shooting at me on a semi busy freeway, but I knew that there wouldn't be much I could do to stop him. Then as abruptly as the shooting had started it stopped. By my count I had sixteen holes in my truck.
"Call the fucking pigs you dildo!"
Yes! The police would stop him. I reached for my cell and was about to dial 911 when I noticed that I had two missed calls. I'd have to see about them later since getting this fool to stop trying to kill me was a priority over buying some Amway or donating to the policeman's fund, although a cop on the line begging for money would be better than no cop at all.
I was about to push the nine button when my phone buzzed. It was an incoming call from a number I didn't recognize. I hit talk and yelled "I'll call you back. I have to get the police to stop this asshole that's shooting at me!"
I disconnected the call and a sudden thought hit me like a punch from George Foreman. I guided my truck across two lanes and off onto the feeder. I stopped at a fast food restraint and got out of the truck. I could find no holes. I got back in and sat there shaking.
The buzzing of my phone shook me back to reality. I answered to hear a distraught Lizzy.
"Renee said you were being shot at? What the fuck babe? Are you OK? Where are you?"
"Yeah, it's all OK. It was just a false alarm. I'm going home. I'll talk to you later."
I rung off and started the truck. I must have sat there for too long with it running because an employee from the restaurant came out to see if I needed any help. I assured him that I was fine and drove back to the feeder and then onto the freeway toward home.
I got home half an hour later. I slipped out of my clothes and into a pair of comfortable shorts. I grabbed my bottle of Jack and sat on the couch. I'd turned the TV on for noise. I wasn't watching it I just wanted to not feel completely alone as I drank myself into oblivion.
I felt stupid and humiliated. How could I have mistaken the buzzing of my cell phone for bullet strikes? How could I ever look Lizzy in the eye again? I then wondered if I should go out and get another bottle of Jack. I weighed the options and decided I had enough Jack, mainly because all of the liquor stores were closed already.
I was drunk, but nowhere near passing out when someone began banging on my door. My first fear was that someone had called the cops because I had acted like such a freak. I went to the door ready to make up any excuse the police might buy. I opened the door to find not Johnny Law, but Lizzy still looking spec-fucking-tacular in that red dress.
I opened my mouth to apologize when she jumped into my arms and held me tightly. I couldn't get a word in edgewise as she apologized over and over. I told her she had nothing to be sorry about.