Chapter 9

Yes ... everything you are thinking ... and stuff you never considered.

Stuff I never considered!

That we broke my king size bed frame was bad enough ... excuse me ... did I say bad?

I did.

Sorry.

Good? It was Grreat!

If I wasn’t on the pill I’d be ... at least ... possible ... fer sure.

He drank every drop of pineaple juice ... Organic ... of course.

But ... NO pineaple on the delivery pizza ... some things are just WRONG ... pineapple on pizza pretty much tops my list ... mostly. I do like a few chunks in spaghetti ... if I make it.

I wonder what baked meat and spinach lasagna would taste like with thin-sliced pineapple?

Hmm?

Ah well ... something for another day.

“Shower?”

“Yes please.”

“Ooo,” I said. “Pineaple juice really improves an already great taste treat.”

Jerry said, “And no spill ... my turn.”

We most drowned ... yes we did. Fortunately ... the hot water ran out and the chill ran us both out.

By Sunday ... after brunch buffet ... we were dismantling the wreckage and cleaning the floor. The washer and dryer were running full loads and ... well ... yeah...

Eva and the Caregivers showed up. Just the five...

When they came out of the linen closet, Jerry, you remember Jerry ... yeah ... that well fucked and sucked professional firefighter Jerry ... freaked!

I did too.

They were on the way to visit the Frats ... seems that a more steadily available source of fun and games than waiting for The Heroes return suited them to a tee. And they were scheduled to play the bandstand at the reopening of the Il Forno Italian Restaurant and Dance Hall ... five nights ... starting Wednesday.

Sound checks and fun and raunch tonight, tomorrow and Tuesday.

“Limbering up and stretching for our stage show,” Eva said. Then she got all ... confidential... “You know, until that Texas cowboy brought the horse and kidnapped that caregiver ... not a one of us would have considered this,” she passed her hand over the whole group like a blessing from the Pope... “we were pretty happy with our lot in life ... not the predicament Cassandra was in ... we had no part of the cause ... just the result ... but, this ... this is like ... a miracle vacation ... and we all get laid and paid ... this is so much fun!”

Then she noticed Jerry. Jerry could be the pattern for Hero. Six foot five... 220 and every inch toned ... lugging rolls of firehose three halls and up five or six flights of stairs, carrying 200 pound compressors and fire pumps around at full gallop ... besides the freeweights and grab ass typical of manly men ... Jerry fits the profile.

“Girls ... look what Abby found.”

Never try to compete with six Cassandrans ... shoot ... one is bad enough ... six? that sing like angels and play like the Devil himself and could ... or should ... be on The Tonight Show ... or ... The Grand Ol Opera ... it might be Michigan ... but the state is mostly Kentucky and Tennessee hill folk. Polka party time.

You can take the redneck out of the hills ... but you’ll never get the hills out of the redneck.

I know I’m pretty ... exotic genes ... my bones are good and temple dancing seems to be instinct ... because I’m limber as fuck ... I grinned ... and spent the weekend proving it ... but there is the difference between the competent amateur and the complete professional ... Cassandran Heroes Caregivers are TRAINED ... and they KNOW.

The Caretakers were getting ready for the Frats ... skimpy, short and mostly transparent ... and Jerry noticed.

Oh well ... fifteen minutes is fifteen minutes.

I’ll probably be sad ... but I didn’t have to explain.

Cheered meself up.

I grinned and went to the kitchen.