Chapter 10: My Second Time

July 24, 1981, Chicago, Illinois

It had been too late to call Gudia when I arrived home, though on Friday morning I wondered if I should have called despite it being after 10:00pm. Thursday night was our usual night to talk about our plans and I’d simply forgotten about it when I left the office to meet Rachel. I had no real chance of contacting Gudia during the workday, either, as using the phones for personal reasons was against the rules. The only real possibility was using a payphone during lunch, as I didn’t have enough time to do that during my short, fifteen-minute breaks.

As I rode the L, I thought more about the situation, and came to the conclusion that I liked Rachel and her family, as a whole, more than I did Gudia and her family. When I’d talked to Gudia’s dad, it had almost seemed as if I, and my life, had been on trial, and Gudia had even advised me to be careful about what I said. That hadn’t been the case with Rachel’s family. They seemed to have accepted me for who I was. I could relax around them and not worry too much, something I couldn’t say about Gudia’s family.

As the L bounced and jarred and otherwise shook me like a bead in a rattle, I thought back over my conversations with Gudia and the things I’d said to her. Would I feel guilty telling her I didn’t want to continue our relationship? Yes, I’d slept with her, but I hadn’t made any promises to her in order to get her into bed. And I’d made no commitments afterwards; in fact, Gudia had been careful not to make any commitments, which I was sure had to do with her dad. I had the distinct feeling, that despite her assurances, if he didn’t approve of the guy, she wouldn’t marry him, whether it was me or anyone else.

I would have to talk to her and let her know how I felt. That was something I wanted to do face-to-face, not over the phone, so I’d obviously need to see her again. I had a date with Rachel right after work, and I had no idea what time I would get home. That meant I had to make the call during lunch, and hopefully Gudia would be home. We’d have to see each other on Saturday, because I was going to Oak Street Beach with Stuart and Tom on Sunday.

The morning went quickly, and on my way out to lunch, I stopped at the bank of payphones, lifted the receiver, and deposited the 25¢ a five-minute call to the suburbs would cost, then dialed Gudia’s number. Her mom answered, and I was sure a detected a tone of disapproval in her voice, but she called Gudia to the phone right away.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call last night,” I said immediately when she picked up the phone. “I was out and didn’t get home in time to call.”

“And you didn’t think to call?”

“No, I didn’t. I’m sorry.”

“Because you were on a date,” she said flatly, not as a question.

“Yes.”

“I see. Can I see you tonight?”

“No.”

“Because you have a date,” she said tersely. “Then goodbye, Jonathan.”

I heard the receiver replaced, then clicks, then the usual fast-busy signal when a call was disconnected. That had NOT gone the way I’d hoped, though the end result was probably the same as it would have been had the conversation been face-to-face. I replaced the receiver, then went out to the plaza to join Rachel for lunch.

“Did you break things off?” Rachel asked when I’d sat down.

“I’m sorry, what?” I replied.

“I saw you stop at the payphone and you look as if you’re, well, I’m not sure ‘unhappy’ is the right word; maybe ‘uncertain’ is better.”

“And from those two things you figured out I was talking to a girl? And that she broke up with me?”

“Yes. I knew you were dating someone, but that it wasn’t too serious.”

“How did you know that?” I asked.

Rachel laughed, “YOU told me!”

I chuckled, “I guess I did, didn’t I? I was supposed to call her last night and I forgot. She was unhappy, and when she found out I had a date last night, she was unhappier. She wanted to see me tonight and I said I couldn’t, she assumed I had a date, said ‘goodbye’ and hung up.”

“Are you unhappy?”

I shook my head slowly, “No. It was just I wanted to talk to her, you know, face-to-face, but she didn’t give me a chance and then hung up.”

“She knew you were seeing other girls, right? Well, one other girl?”

“I was on a date with another girl besides you. That was a few weeks ago, but I didn’t want to go out with her again. I didn’t hide anything; well, at least I don’t think I did. I wasn’t serious with anyone.”

“And now?”

“Will you accept ‘working on it’?” I asked warily.

“Yes. Are you seeing anyone else?”

“No. Are you asking me not to?”

“I don’t think you’re quite ready to do that, are you? Please be honest.”

“No, I’m not,” I said, fearful of her response because I really did like her.

“But you want to keep seeing me?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then, for now, that’s what we’ll do.”

As I ate my lunch I realized I’d achieved exactly what I’d wanted — I was dating Rachel, I’d ended things with Gudia, and I wasn’t tied down. It hadn’t exactly developed the way I’d hoped it would, but in the end, the only person who was upset was Gudia, and that didn’t bother me nearly as much as I’d thought it might. I was also fairly certain that Rachel felt it was only a matter of time before I would be willing to commit to going steady with her, or whatever it was we were supposed to call it now that we were out of High School. That thought didn’t frighten me, but I was happy to not have to make that decision immediately.

“See you tonight after work?” Rachel asked when we finished eating.

“Absolutely! I’ll meet you just after 5:00pm in the lobby.”

We tossed our trash into the bin on the plaza, then headed back into the building. Rachel used the regular elevators, and I walked around behind those to take the freight elevator, showing quite clearly the distinction in ‘class’ at Spurgeon.

“Who are you?!” a young girl of about six demanded when I got off the elevator.

“Jonathan,” I replied reflexively, taken slightly aback by the tone of her voice.

“You work for my dad.”

“Mr. Nelson?” I asked.

“No! My dad owns this company! My name is Samantha Spurgeon!”

“Nice to meet you, Samantha,” I replied, suddenly wary that I could really get in trouble if I did or said the wrong thing.

“What do you do?”

“I work in the mailroom.”

“Oh,” she replied, suddenly showing zero interest in continuing the conversation.

She turned and scooted down the hallway without another word. I decided I needed to let Mr. Nelson know what had just happened, so I stopped in his office.

“Don’t sweat it,” he laughed. “She’s sharp as a tack even if she’s only six. And she’s not a brat, if you know what I mean.”

I nodded, “I was just kind of taken aback at how she acted, but once I knew who she was, it made sense. I just didn’t want to get into any trouble.”

“You won’t. If she were a boy, she’d be running this place by the time she was thirty and her old man would be drinking 20-year-old Scotch in his house in Saint Martin with several barely legal teenage hotties keeping him company.”

“Does Mr. Spurgeon have any other children?”

“No. Just Samantha. She likes hanging out here for God-only-knows what reason. But you’ve seen who runs this place — guys.”

“Obviously,” I replied evenly.

“Kane, I know that tone and that look, and I advise you to stow it. Whatever YOU think about it, that’s the way this place, and every other place like it, works. When you get to be worth several hundred million, you can change it. Now, just keep it to yourself.”

“Yes, Boss!” I replied firmly.

He nodded, “Very good. And don’t let the little pipsqueak intimidate you. She really is a good kid.”

I nodded and headed to the mailroom. I was fairly busy most of the afternoon as there were two offices on 35 which had to be prepared for new employees who would be starting on Monday. I stocked the desks with pens, pencils, paper, staplers, staples, tape dispensers, tape, paperclips, and various other items while others did things like stencil names on the glass next to the door, set up stock trading terminals, arrange plants, and install and configure phones. Once everything was done in each office, I ran through a checklist, which including making sure all the bulbs in the fixtures lit, the keys worked in the doors, and the chairs rolled smoothly on their mats.

“All set, Boss,” I said when I handed in the checklists.

“We’re going to grow out of this space and it’s going to be a mess,” he said, shaking his head. “There’s a software company on the floor below us, and they have a long-term lease with options on the floors below them.”

“What happens when we run out of space?”

“Well, if the Big Boss can’t pay off the software company to move, we’ll move to another building. That will be a complete fire drill. We did that when we moved to this building from the small space he had when he started. We managed, but now it’ll be a nightmare. If it happens, figure you won’t get any sleep from Friday morning to Monday night, and that’s if you’re lucky.”

“But it would be double-time, right?” I asked.

Mr. Nelson laughed, “Kid, I like your attitude. Tell me, what do you think of O’Malley?”

“I think she does her job with as little effort as possible,” I replied carefully.

“In other words, she’s a slacker.”

I shrugged, “She does get her work done.”

“But ONLY her work. She never has time to pitch in or help with other stuff, right?”

“I think you’d have to ask Nick,” I said carefully.

“I’m asking YOU, Kane.”

“That’s true, yes, Sir.”

“Thanks for your honesty. Get back to work.”

“Yes, Boss!” I replied, and headed back to the mailroom.

I had a sneaking suspicion that when Charlotte’s probationary period was about to end, she’d be gone. I’d only been at Spurgeon six weeks, but as far as I could tell, nobody did ‘the minimum’ when it came to their jobs. I’d heard about any number of people who were fired, and not for the reason Julie Harris was fired. Anyone involved in managing either Spurgeon or customer money had to perform above market averages, or they were out.

I’d heard stories of guys who arrived in the office at 5:00am and didn’t leave until midnight. It was THAT kind of effort I was going to have to put in if I wanted to make a name, and a lot of money, for myself. I wasn’t afraid of hard work or long hours, especially in a job which was inside, in air conditioning. If some of these guys wanted to see HARD work, they could move bags of seed, feed, and manure, or carry lumber around. My biggest concern was getting out of shape from not working hard enough!

I punched out at 5:00pm, and headed down to the lobby via the freight elevator. Rachel was waiting for me, and we left the building together. At her suggestion, we took the L to Oak Park where we went to a small diner which served excellent burgers, then headed to a theater which was far cheaper than the one in Water Tower Place, to see Blow Out.

We both liked the movie, thoroughly enjoying the mystery and suspense, and when we left the theater we stopped for ice cream, which I offered to buy because we’d gone ‘Dutch’ for our meal and the movie. Rachel protested it wasn’t necessary, but she did relent and allow me to pay for the two soft-serve chocolate cones.

We rode the L back into the city and I walked Rachel to the LaSalle Street station. We went through the makeshift station onto the platform, and found the train waiting. We exchanged a chaste kiss, and I held Rachel loosely in my arms.

“You’d like a better kiss?” she asked with a knowing smile.

“I would.”

“That too, comes in time,” she replied softly, giving me a VERY clear picture of her limits.

I nodded and lowered my arms from around her. She stepped up into the train car, turned, waved, and then found a window seat. I stayed until the train left, waving as it pulled away. Once I could no longer see the red lights on the back of the train, I turned and headed for home.

July 26, 1981, Chicago, Illinois

On Sunday, I left the townhouse just before 11:00am, happy to escape just as two of Lisa’s friends arrived. One of them was the girl, Jeri, who had seemed nice, and the other one was a girl I recognized but whose name I didn’t know. Jeri smiled at me, but didn’t say anything, which didn’t surprise me, given that Lisa and I were completely on the outs. They were headed out somewhere, but I didn’t care enough to find out.

Having consulted a CTA map, I took a bus which traveled along Fullerton Avenue until we came to Sheffield, where I transferred to the L which took me to Clark and Division. From there it was a short walk to the beach. I searched a bit and saw Stuart, wearing swimming trunks and Lucy wearing a light blue bikini that barely contained her gorgeous breasts. I walked over to where they were, and spread a beach blanket I’d borrowed from my aunt next to theirs.

“What’s up?” Stuart asked, as I sat down.

“Not much,” I replied.

“Tom and Maria should be here soon. In fact, there they are!”

I turned to see Tom, Maria, and a girl who, from her looks, had to be Maria’s little sister, were walking towards us. Tom and Maria were carrying a cooler between them, having promised to bring drinks and sandwiches.

“Hi, Jonathan!” Maria exclaimed. “This is my sister Teresa. I hope you don’t mind she came along?”

“Not at all,” I replied. “Hi, Teresa.”

“Hi, Jonathan!” she said, sounding very friendly. “You don’t mind if I share your blanket, do you?”

“I don’t mind,” I replied, making quick eye contact with Maria who just smiled.

Tom and Maria spread their blanket and then Maria and her sister slipped off their shorts and t-shirts, revealing matching black bikinis. Both girls were about 5’8”, had light brown skin, black hair, brown eyes, flat stomachs, nicely flared hips, and smallish breasts. I instantly decided I’d be more than happy to share my blanket, and anything else she wanted, with Teresa. That thought was instantly tempered by the fact that I liked Rachel a lot, and had to be very careful not to mess things up with her.

“Anyone want a Coke or 7-Up?” Tom asked.

“Fucking city doesn’t let us have beer on the beach,” Stuart groused.

“None of us are 21!” Maria replied. “Even if they did, we couldn’t legally drink!”

“Tom and I could easily pass for 21, and nobody would give us grief,” Stuart replied.

“Save it for my uncle’s bar,” Tom replied. “Or my place. The cops are real pricks here on the beach. They won’t even let you bring pop bottles, so I have cans.”

“I won’t complain,” I grinned. “Coke is fine with me.”

“Me, too,” Teresa said.

Tom handed us each a can of Coke and then gave Tom and Lucy cans of Coke as well. He got a 7-Up for Maria and a Coke for himself then sat down next to his girlfriend. I did my best to keep from staring at the girls, but those bikinis, and the tight bodies they barely contained drew my attention in a way I found hard to resist. Fortunately, though it was a close thing, it didn’t make me actually hard, as that would have been impossible to conceal in my trunks.

“Anyone up for the water?” Lucy asked.

“Sure!” both Maria and Teresa responded.

They got up and then so did Tom, Stuart, and I. We followed two very cute butts in black bikinis and one in a light blue bikini into the water. The water was cool, despite it being a fairly warm day, but not too cold to wade in and splash around a bit. The black bikinis didn’t reveal much more, though they clung tightly to the girls’ bodies, but the light blue bikini Lucy was wearing became nearly translucent. THAT would have caused an uncomfortable reaction if it weren’t for the cool water which was up to my sternum.

A bit of a way down the beach, two couples were playing chicken and I thought that would be a GREAT idea, until a lifeguard made them stop almost as soon as they started.

“Lifeguards!” Stuart spat. “We’re all adults!”

“I want to hear you say that when we’re firemen,” Tom retorted. “The odds are ten to one that at least once, inside the first year, you’ll complain about having to help someone who was doing their level best to prove that stupidity is fatal!”

“If only!” Stuart said. “Can you imagine if all the idiots were left to fend for themselves without the government holding their hands every step of the way?”

“Survival of the fittest?” I asked.

“Damn straight!”

“Aren’t you signing up to run into burning buildings and drag people out?”

“Oh, shut up!” he laughed. “Stop using logic!”

“But...” I grinned.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be sworn to protect even the most foolish, idiotic, and careless citizens of the City of Chicago. At least I won’t be washing puke out of my rig the way Tom will!”

“And I won’t,” Tom grinned, “except for annual re-quals, have to lug hose reels or clean them. And YOU have to go into the building before me!”