Chapter 25

Joe woke up briefly a couple times when each of his ladies left the couch/bed in Jonathon’s/his study. Constance first, and then Cheryl. But only woke up entirely when Nigella came in with a platter of bagels and lox, coffee and orange juice. Not fresh squeezed.

“On the desk,” he told her since she seemed to offer breakfast in bed. “Joanne make it out on time?”

“Tired but sated,” Nigella grinned.

“Good,” he chuckled. “The others?” he asked, getting up and sitting at his desk.

“Hanging and chatting on the couch. About you of course. And watching the kids. Want a robe?”

“Thanks.”

“Uhm, I’m going to go visit my dad,” she said at the door. “Hang out and have dinner with him. I’ll make it to Eddie’s rehearsal.”

“What about your bass?”

“Cheryl let me drop it off at the practice space. I think I’m going to bring along the acoustic bass. There’s a park by Dad’s theater.”

“Do some busking?”

“Or just play. Work out some things I’ve been thinking about. And it centers me.”

“Cool.”

She left.

Joe visited the small ensuite half bath to piss. A couple minutes later Cheryl, dressed in what must have been one of Jonathon’s dress shirts and a tie around her waist, showing most of her thighs, came into the office with his robe and a kiss. She settled beside him. He read through his play. She wrote on a legal pad.

“You know I was thinking,” he said.

“Didn’t know you had it in you, with all that fucking,” she smirked.

“Joanne?”

“Yeah, I noticed. You really are something,” she giggled.

“My penis regrets it,” he said.

“No doubt. Nothing else regrets it?”

“Nope.”

“Good. So what were you thinking?”

“You’ve been writing about Eddie for the NME.”

“England?” she asked excitedly.

“Makes sense.”

“Distribution?”

“Joanne’s been working on it since I mentioned how more than one punk rock band managed to gain greater fame after coming back from England. I don’t know how that panned out, but knowing her, the way she took hold of that little label and has been basically pulling them out of their small label attitude, with the rest of their bands, not just the Monsters, benefitting more than likely, I have a feeling she’s got a distributor. So, like the way we’ve been planning?”

“I’d like to go with you,” she said, meaning them together from the beginning.

“I’d like that.”

“Maybe I could talk to one of the guys at NME about booking clubs.”

“Maybe you could introduce me. It seems like I’ve become Eddie’s tour manager.”

“True,” she smiled. They went back to writing. After checking the play, with one or two cringes that he decided he had to accept, he worked on a letter that would promote his capabilities as writer/director, and his ideas of presenting the play as simply and effectively as possible. Cheryl looked at it. Gave him advice, which he took and he changed things as well on his own. Once he felt it presented him best, he typed it up.

“Done,” he said.

“Going to bring it to them?”

“Too early. Feel like going for a walk?”

“Sure. Shower with me?”

“Of course.”

When they stepped out of the office, Constance stopped them. “I’m having lunch with Jonathon,” she said.

“Now?” he asked.

“In about a half hour.”

“We’re going to shower,” he told her. “We’ll make it quick. Kids? Want to get ready to head to the lake?”

“Yay!” they shouted.

Too quick showering together, with minimal caresses, Joe and Cheryl dressed casually. T-shirts and shorts. He helped her with her bra. The kids were dressing in the room they shared, with a bunkbed, Constance helping Charlie.

“Go ahead,” he told Constance. She gave him a quick kiss and dashed off. Taking Charlie in his arms, they headed downstairs and out the back door where a storage shed held his stroller.

Instead of a direct route to the lake, they walked to Hennepin, a major road in South Minneapolis and to a fancy sandwich/deli shop, ordering sandwiches, salads and sodas at the counter. Their lakeside picnic fixings.

Adding a few blocks to the walk didn’t bother him, what with Essie entertaining them with her many, varied questions. Her curiosity may have amused him, but her precociousness astounded him.

They settled onto a lawn beside the lovely urban lake, Lake of the Isles, south of their usual spot beside a channel leading to Cedar Lake. A better view of a lush little island. After eating, he kept an eye on the kids while stretching out on the usual picnic blanket, Cheryl beside him.

“I have something for you,” he said, reaching into the black, tattered backpack.

“Oh?”

He found the two ring boxes. His was plainer and larger, so he figured out hers. He hid hers in his big hand. “I know we were stoned out of our gourds when you asked me a certain question.”

“Oh?” she replied, sitting up.

“And I answered yes.” He showed her the box, then knelt in front of her, opening it.

“You did,” she said, her eyes wide.

“So I’m asking you if you were serious.”

“I was,” she said, taking the ring. “I am. It’s beautiful.” She slipped it onto her left ring finger. It ended up being a little loose. He took out the box with the band in it and handed it to her.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“That’s for me.”

She opened it and turned it towards him. “You’ll marry me?” she asked.

He took it out and put it on. “Yes.”

“That’s the band,” she said.

“I have one that looks the same only narrower,” he told her. “Put on hold. So when you size your engagement ring you can size that too.”

“You’re serious.”

“I am.”

“Me too.”

They embraced and kissed, not lingering on it. But when Essie and Charlie came to them and Essie asked what happened, they kissed much longer. No need to worry about watching the kids.

“Hey, no more kissy face,” Essie pouted.

“It’s what you do when you love someone,” he explained.

“Do you love me?” she smirked.

He attacked her with kisses and tickles. Her giggling became laughter, and her wriggling finally let her escape.

“You do love me then?” she asked as she caught her breathe.

“I do.”

“Me too,” she said and came up bravely to him and kissed his lips.

“Uncle Joe,” said Charlie giggling. “You kiss me too?”

Joe did, and tickled him. More giggles until Joe stopped.

On their way back to the house, Cheryl and Joe discussed their options.

“What are your visions of a wedding?” she asked him.

“I don’t think a boy ever has such a vision.”

“I don’t either,” she said.

“Besides us getting married, what’s a wedding for?”

“It’s a rite to be sure,” said Cheryl. “To be married appropriately, the right way, by the right version of worship or religion or whatever god needs to be appeased or agreeable to it being properly done.”

“Unless it’s a civil wedding. Then it’s just legal.”

“It would be a matter of the witnesses being agreeable,” said Cheryl.

“Narrows the choices. Your family?”

She shook her head. “Just my sister. She’s gone from being embarrassed and a little pissed at me for being such a book nerd and overachiever in high school to being a little awed that I’m meeting and writing about rockers. And of course, I did give her my car.”

Joe chuckled. “I think my sister would just find confirmation of my insanity. My dad will think I’m just making another bad choice. Mom will be cool with it, though. Even if you’re not Freddy.”

“She wanted your first girlfriend to be your wife?”

“Not really. It’s kind of a long story, about my infidelity, and her disappointment.”

“About cheating.”

“Yeah. With my dad’s little affair, or whatever it is...”

“Makes sense. Men being dicks.”

“Pretty much.”

“At least I know you’re a dick.”

“And I know you’re a slut.”

They laughed. It was kind of the basis of their engagement. Permission to be and do whatever they choose. Acceptance. With the bond of their hearts at the center. And their minds. And their loins. Preferring being with each other more than being with anyone else. Creating an absolute stability, a trust, which gave them more freedom than could be imagined with any other two people on the planet. An open marriage to be sure, but without the baggage that sort of classification brings. Where a couple agrees to be allowed to fuck around, but one or the other one, probably more the male than the female, though not necessarily, takes advantage of it more than the other, and the lack of balance foments jealousy and resentment. They believed their relationship to be different. To be unique. Utter honesty. Deep friendship. Trust.

In a way they had a balance that enabled their unusual engagement and future marriage. Her cuteness, along with her incredibly hot body inevitably brought attention from the opposite sex, or the same sex. She would always have choices, and their relationship would allow them. And for Joe, though not in her league in attractiveness, even if for some reason women said he was cute despite being inches taller than pretty much any women except the freakishly tall, cuteness having nothing to do with being short Joe had been shown, he had a knack for giving women what they wanted from a man. Whether it be dominant for a submissive like with Joanne and Constance, or someone who just listened, both conversationally and sexually. And, ironically, because for Cheryl it had been a problem, he was able to hold back orgasms, especially once past the first one, which gave his partners a much better chance in getting theirs, sometimes in abundance. Obviously giving good sex makes a woman want more.

Their youth and ambition meant they would meet others. Have sex with others. Be other places. But inevitably they would end up together. Both hoped that would be inevitable. But in the meantime, they would come together when they could, and rejoice. Their favorite place. Next to each other.

“So, who else?” asked Cheryl, still figuring out the wedding.

“It’d be nice having my best friends there,” Joe said. “Belle and Simon and Freddie.”

“And Eddie.”

“Yeah.”

“That would definitely put the hatchet down about his hopes for me and him. And I think that’s a good thing.”

“What about you?” he asked.

“My friends are pretty much gone,” she said. “Or they’re not so close anymore. It’d be cool if Jules would come.”

“Why not?”

“Yeah. And maybe I could head out with her after. Head to San Francisco.”

He chuckled. “Not much of a honeymoon for us.”

“This is my honeymoon Joe. Just me and you, one on one. Doesn’t matter where we are.”

“Yeah.”

“And we’ll have England.”

“I like that idea.”

“Me too. So ... Maybe around Labor Day. You’ll be heading to Chicago.”

“Okay.”

“You sure?”

“Definitely.”

“Me too.”

“It’ll have to be before or after,” he said. “If it’s a civil wedding, I’m sure a judge would probably be taking that day off.”

“How about Friday before the Labor Day weekend? That way Jules is sure to be able to get here. Although I’ll have to check. She’ll more than likely be free, but colleges don’t always start on Tuesday after Labor Day. Though I can’t imagine school starting its fall semester in August. That would suck.”

“Speaking of Chicago,” he said. A woman stood beside her sort of car parked in front of Joanne’s house, frowning at him.

“Who’s that? She’s stunning.”

“Even annoyed,” he chuckled.

“You know her?”

“That’s Caroline. The photographer. Maxine’s lover from Chicago.”

“Another photographer for my bedpost.”

“We’ll see,” he laughed. “We’re just engaged, and you’re already looking elsewhere.”

“Who wouldn’t? She’s gorgeous.”

“Yes she is.”

Caroline leaned against her El Camino. It had become a cool car later, but maybe not so cool then, or it was and Joe wasn’t aware of the cool factor. If nothing else, it was interesting. The hybrid thing.

She looked great in a light blue button down short sleeved shirt and summer weight dark gray slacks, a men’s suit pants tailoring for her hint at being a dyke, the loosely draped deep blue silk tie continuing the hint, the knot below the unbuttoned top button. Nothing could make Caroline look masculine, and the contrast probably made her even less, as well as being sexy.

Her impatient frown dissolved immediately when she spotted Essie. The little blonde angel tended to have that effect on everyone. Maybe not Eddie.

“She’s...” Caroline started as Essie bravely approached her.

“Joanne’s,” he smiled.

“You’re pretty,” said Essie.

Caroline knelt in front of her. “You are too.”

“You know Uncle Joe?”

“Some. I know your mom, too.”

“You look like those ladies in mom’s picture magazine. Pretty as a picture,” she giggled.

“I used to be one of them.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Used to be. Not anymore?”

Caroline looked at Joe. He shrugged.

“I take pictures now.”

“Oh. Neat. Pretty lady taking pretty pictures of pretty ladies,” she giggled.

“And pretty girls?”

“Me?”

“Why not? You’re very pretty.”

“Okay. You staying?”

“I’ll be here for a few days. Taking pictures. But not staying here in your mom’s house. I have a hotel room.”

“Too bad.”

“I’ll come by lots of times. I have to take your picture after all.”

“Yes!”

“Why don’t you come inside,” Joe said. “I hope you didn’t wait long.”

They started walking around the house to get to the back and drop off the perambulator and the blanket.

“About a half hour. Joanne thought you’d be here.”

“Sorry. I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I figured enough delays,” she shrugged. “I told Joanne I was heading up this morning.”

“So Maxine... ?”

“Busy.”

“The gallery?”

“Yeah.”

“Good for her.”

“Yeah. You going to introduce me to your friend.”

“Yeah Joe!” said Cheryl.

“Sorry. I guess you do that to me Caroline. This is my fiancé, Cheryl.”

“Fiancé?”

“Just today,” Cheryl said, showing Caroline the ruby ring.

“Well, uhm, congratulations.”

“Thanks. Yeah I know. Too young. Especially Joe here. It’s hard to explain, right Joe?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “You want some wine?”

“Sure. Sounds nice.”

“Something to eat?” he asked as she followed him into the kitchen with Cheryl.

“I’m good.”

She sighed when she settled onto the stool. Cheryl got the wine while Joe sat beside her.

“So where are you staying?”

“The Marriot downtown.”

They laughed.

“What?” Cheryl asked, handing Caroline the glass of chilled white wine.

“Thanks. Uhm...”

“I fucked Maxine in the Chicago Marriot.” he told Cheryl.

“Joe!” Caroline scolded him. And blushed.

Cheryl sat across from them. “Joe and I,” she explained, “We’re upfront about a lot of things. Well, actually, everything. It’s hard to explain like I said, but we have this bond. Pretty much from the start, don’t you think, Joe?”

“Yeah. That first night we met talking all night. Didn’t even realize it until the sun came up.”

“Yeah. It was amazing. I fell in love with this tall drink of water. I had to suck him dry for him to realize he loved me too.”

“Cheryl,” he chuckled, glancing at the kids gazing at some child appropriate television program in the living room.

“It’s true.”

“I loved you from the start. Just didn’t know how much,” he defended himself. “And there was Moira.”

“I was wondering about her,” said Caroline.

“You told them about Moe?” Cheryl asked.

“She was on my mind,” he explained. “And you know I’m honest to a fault. Besides, even if I’d hide having a girlfriend for unscrupulous reasons, which you know I wouldn’t, I didn’t even think I’d end up fucking Maxine.”

“Yes you did,” Caroline said. “Joanne recommended you.”

“But ... after that ... whatever that was.”

“You mean when I raped you?”

“Yeah. That.”

“What?” Cheryl exclaimed.

“Revenge,” he said. “Maybe you don’t want to get into it,” he queried Caroline.

“I’m an angry dyke,” Caroline told Cheryl.

“Oh,” Cheryl understood. “Shit. Beauty...”

“Can be a curse,” Caroline nodded.

“You are fucking beautiful,” said Cheryl.

“The most beautiful woman I have ever met,” he agreed.

“Me too,” Cheryl realized.

“But I didn’t know Joe,” Caroline said.

“You apologized,” he said.

“I did?”

He chuckled. “In your way. We ended up having an incredible night together, you and Maxine showing me your town. And you did let me kiss you.”

“I suppose I did,” she smiled.

“Joe’s a pretty good kisser, hunh?”

“He is.”

“I’m pretty good too,” Cheryl smirked.

Caroline laughed. “You’re cute.”

“And she’s got an incredible body,” Joe said. “But I actually need to go.”

“Red Eye?” Cheryl asked.

“Yeah.”

“I’m coming.”

“Of course. And we’ll be headed to the Southern after. Joanne’s meeting us there.”

“Where you’re doing your play?” Caroline asked.

“Yeah. My tech guy Simon will be there. And Freddy, my set designer. And Constance, the choreographer.”

“So...”

“You’re definitely invited. The kids will be there too, since I’m basically their sitter. You can keep chatting with Essie.”

“She’s pretty bright.”

“I’m thinking genius,” Joe said. “Not that I know about developmental stuff, but I can’t imagine a girl her age being that sharp. I’ll probably leave my people there to finish what they can and head over to Eddie’s rehearsal. Joanne will bring the kids home.”

“I’ll tag along,” said Caroline.

“I thought you might,” he grinned.

“Me too,” said Cheryl.

“Of course.”

“Maybe I should put the ring back in the box,” Cheryl decided. “I don’t want it to slide off.”

“We’ll stop by the jewelers tomorrow to get it sized.”

“Cool. And my wedding band. It’ll make everything complete.”

“Maybe we could reserve a time at city hall and get whatever papers we need to get,” he suggested.

“Definitely complete,” she grinned popping off her stool to come to him. He stood and embraced and kissed her.

“You guys are cute,” he heard Caroline say.

“Her hotel tonight?” Cheryl whispered.

“We’ll see,” he returned.

Red Eye proved more than hopeful when he met with the two people who had prejudged him for his youth. “Interesting,” the man said regarding the video Joe showed them. Dreamscapes. The woman said they’d be at his play. They almost seemed eager when he handed them his one-act.

“And here’s a number,” the woman told him, handing him a card. “Frank Theater,” and a woman’s name. “I should warn you,” the woman explained. “She can be pretty brutal about editing a play to fit her vision. But she is a visionary. She may be the best of us,” meaning independent, small theater directors.

“I’ll call her,” he smiled. “You were expecting me.”

“I didn’t see you as the discouraged type,” she said.

Everyone was at the Southern when they got there. They were a few minutes late. Constance immediately embraced him, which both shocked and amused Caroline. “God, I needed that hug,” Constance told him. “I love this space. It’s ... inspiring.”

“I’d hoped it would be,” he said. It had a starkness to it. A rawness. Bare-boned. Only the ramped seating challenged him, what with the dancers within the audience. They had done the show in auditoriums, a raised stage and the audience seated on seats on the flat floor.

“We can borrow fold out chairs,” said Simon, Freddy beside him nodding. “And build a platform towards the back. It’ll really work with the lighting, since the dancers will be sort of on stage already.”

“I’ll get Joanne on it,” Joe said.

“I think we should talk to Mary,” Freddy shook her head. Mary, the teacher who oversaw their high school production with profound permissiveness. “She said she’d be available if we need her help.”

“Get the local high schools involved,” Joe nodded.

“It would definitely be a lot cheaper,” Freddy grinned. “Help me haul shit in, and then I’ll give her a call.”

She had her family’s heavy-duty pickup full of rolled up canvases and the stanchions they’d be attached to. The hardest part was hauling the wooden bases, filled with concrete, which supported the stanchions. Though quartered, and lashed together with thick rope, they were still a bitch to lift. At least they had a hand truck to stack them and roll them into the theater.

Once done and sweaty, Constance approached Joe accompanied by a plump middle aged blonde woman. “This is Iris,” she said. “She did my costumes.”

“So you’re the boy who woke the genius up,” Iris smiled, shaking his hand.

“And you’re the woman who’ll be dying my jeans,” Joe chuckled. “Has she shown you her drawings?”

“Joe!” Constance muttered.

“What drawings?” Iris asked.

“Our genius has been busy. Do you know if any of the other of the old crew might still be around?”

“I don’t think so. Why?”