Chapter 22

Cheryl and Joe got out of the little day bed in Constance’s office, got dressed in what they had worn the night before, her back to being sexy in his shirt, though more buttoned, and headed to the kitchen, probably reeking of sex, but they didn’t care. Most everyone lounged in the big room. Unlike the morning before, they ended up being the last up. In the kitchen they encountered Joanne and Nigella both looking as comfortably well fucked as they did.

“Waffles?” Martha offered.

“Great,” Joe said.

“Please,” said Cheryl.

As Martha made the waffles, he heard her concern when she asked, “Do you know where Constance might be?”

“She headed into town last night,” he told her. “She’s staying with Jonathon in his apartment.”

“I know he left rather unexpectedly,” said Martha. “They’ve had their spats, but it’s usually Constance who drives off, at least for a while.”

“I think they’ll be okay,” he said.

“I hope so.”

“Me too. I hope it’s okay us being here without her.”

“Never worry about that Joseph,” she told him. “You’ve really enlivened her life.”

“Uhm, really?” he said, trying to keep hid shock hidden.

But she got it. “Getting her involved in the play,” she said suspiciously. “What do you think I meant?”

“No. That makes sense. I just didn’t think it would be such a big thing for her.”

“She’s a creative person. An artist. She enjoys her classes with the little tykes, but there really hasn’t been anything like this since her company. Maybe she will try spreading her wings again.”

“From what she told me,” he risked, “having the responsibility of running everything overwhelmed her.”

“Right. And she doesn’t have to be in charge with you. You should encourage her to try making contacts again. Being a guest choreographer.”

“Me encourage her?”

“She admires you.”

“It’s mutual. Okay. But I’d hate to disappoint her.”

“True. I guess there might not be so many who remember her.”

“I don’t know much about choreography or the dance scene, but I’m pretty sure there are still companies run by her contemporaries. Maybe I could make some discrete inquiries. Or Joanne, since she’s often involved in getting them funding.”

“I think that would be really nice.”

“Yeah.”

While he ate his large, fluffy waffle with what must have been real maple syrup, Nigella scooted up next to him and quietly told him, “Joanne’s going to drive me to her house.”

“The...” he gestured towards his inner elbow.

“Yeah. Ever since you said I could have it, it’s been on my mind.”

“You can use my works,” he whispered.

“I thought that would work. I can’t imagine you caught anything.”

“I’m sure it’s safe. I stuffed the packet with the works and the burnt spoon in a winter sock. They’re stashed at the bottom of my underwear drawer.”

“Thanks.”

“Joanne knows?”

“It’s my last shot, so to speak. She wants to watch,” she shrugged.

“Okay.”

“And if Eddie comes looking for me, let him know I’ll be back for rehearsal.”

“Sure.”

“He said something about jamming after breakfast. If it’s nice out, something acoustic by the lake.”

“It’s nice out,” he said, looking at the sunshine through the kitchen window. “Is he here already?”

“Yeah. I think he might already be down by the shore with Belle and the brothers. Maybe you should join him. Grab my acoustic bass. It’s still in the basement.”

“Sure.”

She kissed him briefly. He embraced and kissed Joanne. “You’re mine tonight,” he told her.

“Yes Joe,” she smiled.

After breakfast, Cheryl and Joe remained together. They stopped at her presumed room where her clothes were, and she got some shorts and a t shirt, and they went to the room Joanne and he shared for a quick shower and a change of clothes, though his were similar to the ones he wore before. His uniform of button down white shirt and khakis. And they went back to the kitchen.

They headed out through the kitchen door and onto the four season porch. Large screen windows looking out to the lake all along the back of the house. In winter, or actually when it got cold, which in Minnesota usually included the second half of fall and the first half of spring, glass covered those windows and heat kept the porch comfortable. Walking through the porch to the door to outside, they took the short set of stairs onto the stonework surface that held the large black barbecue mostly used for family gatherings a couple times a year. Crushed brick pathways led out of the stone semi-circle and into a large garden with benches and some modernist sculptures, both figurative and non-figurative. Only a few pink, white and red roses bloomed. The paths looped around and joined the central path, which widened with each juncture until it formed a circular area, a round reflecting pool at the center. The pool reflected a large pink marble sculpture, a dancer emerging from the stone as if lifted, with only hands and a little bit of forearms shown of the lifter, the stone itself looking like a raw bolder. Though not detailed, he sensed the dancer had been modeled after Constance.

The garden area had a low wall, a lip really, which kept the crushed brick from intruding on the grass lawn. Exiting onto the lawn area meant walking on a protrusion of stone that matched the floor of the barbecue. You stepped up a little and then stepped down as if it was a boulder set mostly in the ground.

The well-groomed lawn extended several yards wide of the sides of the house and several yards down to the lake. A single stone path from the circle led to a small pier. At the shore, a boathouse to the left of the path kept a sixteen foot sailboat, a couple of row boats/motor boats and a couple of canoes and whatever gear they needed safe during cold weather. The sailboat rested docked at the end of the pier. Though a relatively modest size, it looked sleek, with what looked like well-polished rosewood used for deck and cabin.

Looking back at the house from the dock, it became apparent that, while the front side, or at least the side you parked in front of and entered, looked like a normal, dull, if huge clapboard construction, the backside had a great deal more splendor. All the several rooms had windows looking at the lake, and each window had pinkish beige shutters. The top floor even had gables. So with the garden and the sculpture in front of it, it really was a lovely sight. And the lawn itself wasn’t just grass. The occasional maple tree gave shade. A couple of picnic tables sat beneath larger ones. And spruce. And a mini apple orchard at the edge. Beyond that, on both sides of the lawn, a forest of pine formed the borders.

The Monsters, sans Nigella, sat at the little beach, with imported sand, opposite the boathouse from the pier. Each rested their butts on portable lawn and lounge chairs, with only Belle on the ground, a root of a maple at the edge of the lawn area above the sand, her feet actually in the sand. She played her viola while Eddie and the little brother strummed acoustic guitars and the older brother used bongos for the drumming. Joe didn’t recognize the slow tune, nor what Eddie sang.

The song suddenly became thrash.

Bitch pronounced “Baitch.” Rhyming.

Back to slow:

And repeat the hardcore chorus. And the last four lines a couple more times. And the last a couple more times.

“I warned you,” Joe said while he drank the last of a longneck beer.

“Nah,” Eddie smirked, “She thinks it’s funny.”

“No shit?”

“No shit. You seen Nige?”

“She left for a while. She said I could borrow the acoustic bass if you wanted me to sit in.”

“Cool. Maybe later. Let’s take a walk.”

“Sure.”

Eddie grabbed a couple joints from his Altoids box, and handed one to Randy, lighting the other one. Joe waved and shrugged at Cheryl and Belle and walked away with him. They headed to the little apple orchard, Eddie handing Joe the joint. “Good shit,” he warned Joe, and it was. The kind that expands in your lungs. Despite caution Joe still coughed. Eddie laughed. “My brother got some tabs of acid,” he said before sucking in some smoke.

“Maybe after rehearsal tomorrow,” Joe suggested.

“Makes sense,” Eddie said.

They found a path, probably for hunting, into the trees. They found a blind along the way to make the path’s purpose obvious, though it had seen better days, and past it a babbling brook where they sat and finished the joint.

“What’s up?” Joe said.

“I should ask you that.”

“What do you mean?” Joe watched Eddie dip his feet into the water, and took off his shoes and socks to do the same. It was cold, but refreshing.

“We’ve been best friends since forever,” Eddie started.

“Of course.”

“I don’t know if we are anymore. It’s like our paths have veered away. And if we decide to check out the other’s path, it’s like to grab something off it. Me to get the upright asshole to get my stuff out. That’s cool, and you seem to enjoy it. You to bag my girls. Which is altogether uncool.”

“Eddie...”

“Joanne. Cheryl. Harry, and she’s a fucking dyke. Even that slut Simone. Now fucking Rachel keeps bringing you up. Fuck, Joe. I should kick your ass, you tall drink of water.”

Joe had nothing to say. Any excuses could only make it worse. So he let Eddie talk, which, after a long pause, his oldest friend finally did.

“It’s fucking ironic. We started the band to get laid. A partnership. Even in fucking, with the twins. You didn’t start out scamming me. We both liked what we saw in those two and didn’t even have to step on each other’s toes getting what we liked. Even got the ones who had the character we liked. You and Freddy. Me and Sam. So far so good.

“It’s like it all went to shit when I fired your sorry ass. Or you bowed to the needs of the band or whatever. I guess we literally diverged then since I’m pretty focused on this rock thing, and it seems like it’s got real potential. Not entirely since you seem to be working for me, or for the benefit of me. And I’ve been working with you on your play and everything. Which is cool. I really dig playing the twelve string, improvising with Belle and all that. Although it’s weird with Sam and Simone. Understandably they’re not too fond of each other. Sam’s still got a thing for me, and Simone flirts, but mostly with you. I think it’s because it’s safer, or maybe ... fuck Joe ... she’d rather be with you. And she’s got that weird thing with Simon. I think it helps that they’re each concentrating on one of us, and it’s you Simone mostly flirts with. But Sam ... I think I’ll probably tap that again. Rachel wants me to bring her to her place, but I know Sam’s not interested in playing for the same side. I know Rachel wouldn’t want her there just for me to fuck. She’s a selfish cunt,” he chuckled. “It wasn’t hard to figure that out. I thought it would be more with her. We’re really on the same wavelength in a way. Although I wouldn’t put it past her to find that wavelength and use it. But she’s pretty up front about being a selfish cunt, and ... I really do get a kick out of her. And we seem to be on the same page fucking. Even if she’s always looking for an additional mouth to suck her or an additional cock to fuck her. That latter pretty much being you, asshole. But Sam ... I know you two aren’t too fond of each other. I know she tried to control things too much. With Belle. And you for that matter. Jealousy I think for both of you. She’s pretty insecure and makes up for it being a ball buster. But that jealousy, that insecurity, couldn’t hold up when she figured out I’d been fucking Simone. It really hurt her. The thing is, you don’t know what it’s like when I’m intimate with her. You don’t know how sweet she is. How much she wants things to work for me, for her man. That controlling thing kind of came out of that. Whether it had to do with jealousy or not, she really thought about how much more successful I’d be without the intense half breed lesbian playing this weird viola, and, well, you being a neophyte bass player. See what I mean?”

“Yeah.”

“So she was wrong about Belle. She didn’t get that uniqueness that Belle brings. Making the Monsters that much more memorable and intense, and that both Belle and I knew how to make it work. Which is why, when it became obvious it wasn’t as good without her, I had no problem bringing her back. The thing is, I miss Sam. And she’s not the harridan you think she is.”

“You said you wanted to tap that,” Joe pointed out.

“I’m playing rock and roll asshole, Joe. It sort of comes with the territory. The whole groupie thing. Which is the problem with Sam and definitely not with Rachel,” he chuckled. “She’s definitely more inclusive. It’s a conversation with Sam I want to have. I want her to know I still like her. I still want her. Fuck, Joe, I still love her. But ... she’s got take me warts and all or it just wouldn’t work. I don’t need a jealous bitch. Not at this point in my life. It seems like you got a bunch of Rachel’s.”

“Moira,” Joe countered.

“Nah. She likes her threesomes and she doesn’t seem to get bent about you fucking around.”

“I think she’d prefer if I didn’t.”

“In the end maybe. But it had more to do with the dope and coke.”

“Yeah.”

“Unlike Rachel, who prefers me stoned out of my gills. To tell you the truth, I kind of like it too. Maybe too much. I don’t know. It’s fun.”

“I think Joanne’s pretty concerned about that. About both of us.”

“Yeah. Bad business. For me. For you ... She loves you.”

“Eddie.”

“No. I get it. You’re like a grown up. More her type. I’m just a kid to her. A talented, let’s ride his coattails to a fortune kind of kid. You figured out how to treat her. How to get her.”

“I didn’t mean to take her from you.”

“Didn’t you?”

“I don’t know.”

“I guess she wasn’t really mine. Our relationship. Controlling things when she wanted to be controlled.”

“Yeah.”

“And Cheryl.”

“You know she was never really yours?”

“But I wanted her to be. She’s fucking cute as shit and brilliant.”

“Yeah.”

“And her fucking body!”

“Yeah.”

“And I know she made me a better lover. Because I wanted to be. For her. She actually told me up front that it takes some work to get her off. And I really wanted to see her get off. Holy fuck!”

“Yeah.”

“That was you, wasn’t it?”

“What do you mean?”

“She fucking told me. I just didn’t want to hear it. She would never have been mine. You fucking pimped her Joe.”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“Tell me you didn’t decide to lend your girlfriend to me.”

“First, she wasn’t exactly my girlfriend.”

“Moira.”

“Yeah. Cheryl ... She’s had strong feelings for me. Ever since that first night, really. I guess she fell in love with me, and she struggled with it. Because she knew it wouldn’t last. When it got to sex...”

“You didn’t fuck her right away?”

“I guess we didn’t get to that. Spent the entire night talking. But ... she wanted it, but...”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t.”

“Of course I did. She just kind of wanted, I don’t know, more of an indirect relationship. She’s into girls...”

“No shit,” Eddie laughed.

“And so we kind of always had a girl in between. Joanne. And when we went to New York I thought it would be Moira because she’s just as bisexual, but Moira wanted me to herself. Kind of.”

“Nige.”

“Yeah.”

“Another one favoring you.”

“She ... she really doesn’t want to fuck her boss.”

“I know. That’s cool. I can see that being a problem down the line. The whole Fleetwood Mac phenomenon. That whole thing with Belle, her being lesbian and all...”

“Yeah.”

“Who’d have thought my dyke best friend would be our first fuck.”

“Yeah. I know. Weird. Anyway, I guess I did push Cheryl on you. As a project.”

“A fucking project?”

Joe sighed. “You know we talked about this. About the difference between men and women. About women needing time. I just thought ... with Cheryl having a shitty sexual history, needing more than most some extensive foreplay before the deed, and more time for fucking too, that...”

“You’re a fucking asshole!” he shouted.

“I’m trying to help my best friend!”

“You’re just tagging behind me waiting for scraps!”

“There wouldn’t be any if you weren’t such a selfish fuck! Literally!”

“I know how to fuck, you fuck! I ain’t heard any complaints!”

“Women learn how to fake it so as not to batter your fragile fucking male ego!”

“I ain’t had no problem getting plenty of fucking practice. Fucking chicks line up for it!”

“I know! And it started right off the bat with Belle! And Joanne was another girl you charmed with whatever you have on stage! But what the fuck happened with them?”

“You fucking scammed them!”

“They came to me, asshole! And instead of closing your eyes and getting off, I opened mine and saw what they needed! That’s why they ended up with me! They’re fucking people, Eddie. Not some fucking groupie with a fucking hole they offer you for whatever fucking reason, whatever your presence does to them, and it’s just for you to get off in! Fine for giving some chick an offering of yourself to sate their star struck appetite. But if you want to care about them after they give themselves up to you, you have to fucking open your eyes up you fucker! You have to fucking listen. You have to fucking see. You have to fucking notice what they fucking need! It’s all I fucking do, Eddie. It’s all it takes, you fucking selfish prick!”

“Cheryl...”

“Cheryl’s not one of them, Eddie. Whatever that magic is you have on stage, she never fell for it. She loves me! She never loved you. She told you that!”

Eddie shook his head. “Cheryl loves you. But she fucks me. And that skinny little photographer. And that asshole we picked up at the afterhours club. What the fuck is that?”

“I think it’s about being fair,” Joe responded quietly. “It’s not like I’m a one woman man. Why should she be a one man woman? And I think it has to do with her exploring. I mean she never got off with a guy before me, and she’s finding herself enjoying sex. With you. With those others. Because...”

“She demands to be fucked properly.”

“Yeah. Exactly. Finally getting real pleasure from it is part of it. I think I might have turned on her inner nymphomaniac. But I think her insisting you do to her what she needs maybe made her braver. No longer sitting back and letting someone fuck her and it ending up frustrating her.”

“Taking control. I liked that. I like that with Rachel.”

“With Sam?”

“Nah. She just wanted to fuck. And she’d suck me whenever I wanted. But ... I think she just liked being with me.”

“Snuggling.”

“Yeah. And just being comfortable together. Talking. It was easy with her. Intimate. And then, fucking Simone.”

“If it hadn’t been her, it would have been someone else.”

“No doubt. Man, I’m realizing how much I miss Sam.”

“I gotta say, if you two manage to get back together, that she can be controlling.”

“A manipulative bitch. You said. She was wrong about Belle, but maybe not about you. Maybe her protecting me was right on.”

“She wanted you to herself. No room for a best friend.”

“What best friend? You were fucking around on her twin sister! Makes sense she’d want to kick you to the curb. And Joanne. I was sleeping with her? And she’d sneak off to see you and sneak back. Yeah, I saw it. And Cheryl? I don’t know. Let’s talk about Cheryl. I mean, what the fuck? Do you love her? She loves you for some fucking reason.”

“I love her.”

“You tell her?”

“Yeah.”

“So?”

“It’s like what you had with Sam. And what I had with Moira. In a way it’s the reverse of Moira. It practically killed me when she broke up with me. Cheryl worried it would be the same thing with her when she had to head back to New York. But it wasn’t the sex, even if it’s great. Sex can be great with a one night stand. Maybe not as intense emotionally, but that has to do with the real glue of the relationship. The ease of communication. The pleasure of exchanging thoughts and feelings freely without any self-consciousness. The...”

“Intimacy.”

“I think that part of our relationship is even stronger than what I had with Moira. Because with Moira, sex was a significant glue. It basically started there. And finished there to tell you the truth. We had a goodbye rut, not a last making love. Cheryl fell in love talking to me. When we finally got down to one-on-one fucking, which didn’t happen for a long time, like I said it was great. Because it was like our conversations. Free and open and unrestrained by self-consciousness. Pure fun, really, with that added thrill of being physically connected. Instead of mind melding, which of course, if at least one of us isn’t a Vulcan, is impossible, but it feels like it when we talk, we actually did meld I guess.”

“So if you two break up...”

“To tell you the truth, I don’t see that happening. At least not any time soon. Because if we can’t be physically together, we can still connect. By phone. Even letter I think. It’s like an intellectual love affair.”

“Now I know you’re full of shit. How could not being in the presence of that cute and gorgeous face and that incredible body be in any way as good as having all of that naked in bed with you?”

“You have a point,” Joe chuckled. “But my point is...”

“I get it. Sam and I had some long phone calls. Yeah, I totally get it.”

“So. Friends?”

“Fuck no. You still interested in selling me? In making sure I’m presented properly? Despite me being my own worst enemy at times? For vicarious thrills or hanging on my shirt tails or some shit?”

“It’s not like that. I don’t need your fucking shirttails to make it.”

“You sure about that?”

“I’m sure, you arrogant prick. My path as a writer, a novelist, may take a fuck of a lot longer and be a fuck of a lot harder, but I’ll get there. You’re my best friend or used to be. We started this shit together. I stepped aside so you could have the bass player you deserve, so that your greatness can be that much greater. You’ve worked hard from the get go. Always striving to get better. I believe what you’ve achieved so far will get you noticed, and I mean in a big way. But it’s just starting. You’re going to be a star, Eddie. Because you’re going to work your ass off to become one. You’ll only get better. I know that. I mean what you said about Johnny Thunders. A legend. Because his best stuff is in the past. Yours will always be in the future. Or at least it will always get better. Not that your songs now won’t be remembered, buried in your next great movement upward. Because they will be remembered. Especially that fucking single. I remember when we worked those up. I knew you were destined for greatness then. Like an epiphany.”

“So what’s it to you? Why keep shilling me? Taking a fucking year off from college for me?”

Joe couldn’t help laughing. “It’s not all about you, believe it or not. Yeah, I’ll be doing the shit I did for you in New York. Cheryl actually convinced me I’d be your best spokesman. And yeah, I do want you to succeed. Because I care. Maybe I’m proud to be the best friend of a brilliant rock star. And I’ll always be your best friend one way or another, even if you think you’re not mine. But I have a shitload of other things I plan on accomplishing. Writing for one. Getting my plays out there. Getting my novel fleshed out, part of which is experiencing things I couldn’t being some freshman in some far away college. And college. I can take time to get grants and scholarships so I can go to school in New York. Columbia’s my focus, but who knows? And more time with Joanne’s kids. And Joanne. And Cheryl. Okay?”

“Good. Good to know you’re not a one trick pony.”

“When have I ever been? And I guess you’d be the trick.”

“And you’re more a horse. And speaking of horse...”

“Yeah, I’m done with that shit.”

“It’s a fucking sweet high, but it’s a fucking rut.”

“I agree. You’re going to hate me when I tell you when I first figured it out.”

“I already hate you. So tell me.”

“I had a fuck marathon.”

“A fuck marathon? I heard you can fuck for days on the shit.”

“And I proved it. Cheryl loved it.”

“And you didn’t love fucking Cheryl for hours?”

“No. I did. But the ending proved to be a huge disappointment.”

“Too bad for you,” Eddie responded cynically.

“It was bad. If I’m giving all I got for my lady, why shouldn’t I get a reward at least in some way equal to my effort?”

“Sounds kind of selfish.”

“I’m not a selfish lover. Or maybe I am in that giving pleasure has a most desirable return, that of having my lover want to come back for more. And make no mistake, seeing my lover cum from what I do for her thrills me to no end. But shouldn’t it be just as sweet for me? Like I said, as a reward, but also it shows how amazing it was for me, shows her how much I got out of it. Cheryl agreed, despite cumming more than she ever had before.”

“You talked to her about that?”

“We talk about anything and everything. It’s how our relationship works.”

“You’re fucking weird.”

“And you’re not? Founding member of the weird clique?”

“I thought it was the smart ass clique.”

“That too.”

“But with Simon in it, it makes sense. Fucking Simon. With Simone. Must have a big dick.”

“Or knows how to use it.”

Eddie chuckled. “The scientific method. You think Marsha’s kind of hot?”

“Hard to tell the way she dresses. But there does seem to be a nice lift where her breasts would be. Small and firm I think. Something similar for her ass. I’ve seen her in shorts for PE. She doesn’t actually fill them out, but I didn’t get skinny and bony.”

“Tight.”

“Yeah.”

“The way we like it. Top and bottom.”

“Yeah.”

“You know if Belle tapped Simone, we’d all have had her.”

“Not going to happen.”

“Claire.”

“And I don’t think Simone swings that way.”

“But she’s with Simon and Marsha this weekend.”

“I think it’s purely instructional, with Simon the lucky one in the middle.”

“Probably,” Eddie chuckled. “That leaves Rachel and Simon for sharing.”

“She’d eat him alive.”

“If she were in the least bit interested. I don’t think she’s big on nerds.”

“Probably not. Just as well. But she’s missing out.”

“How so?”

“Nerds tend to be the needy type. They’d definitely be grateful.”

Eddie shook his head. “She thrives on confident fuckers. Like you.”

“And you.”

“Yeah. You gonna visit her like you know she wants?”

“No.”

“Good.”

“She manage to bring anyone in? Enlist another girl for a threesome?”

“Not since New York. She’s hoping for Wednesday.”

“The gig?”

“Yeah.”

“Probably happen. She gonna choose?”

“Yeah asshole.”

“It’s her style.”

“Yeah. And she’d want them to dyke out on her.”

“So no guys.”

“Groupies Joe. Besides, she’s kind of obsessed with you.”

“Like I said. Not going to happen.”

“Maybe once?”

“You just said it was a good thing.”