Chapter 1: Last Night Of Freedom

"Bye, Mom." I hung up the phone.

My boxes were packed and the movers were scheduled to show up 8:00 Monday morning. Moving back home didn't appeal to me, but I had little choice--at least it would be free room and board until the recession ended. But thanks to Congressional "reform" of the telephone industry a few years ago, Megatelco had laid off 250,000 computer geeks in one fell swoop, so it was going to be a long wait.

I still had about $50 left over from my last--and final--unemployment check, and I had a weekend to kill. I figured I'd get a few hundred dollars for my old furniture at my apartment sale Saturday and Sunday, but nothing was certain. If it didn't sell, it'll become my future former landlord's problem.

I kicked a battered old COBOL/CICS programming manual across the floor and headed out down the street to Eddie's Pub.

I liked hanging out at Eddie's. It was a nice older pub for regular guys like me--in jeans and my favorite CSI tee shirt. No suits, yuppies, preppies, or skinheads, please.

They had a live deejay that night, like they usually do on Friday nights, playing good ol' rock and roll, guaranteed to keep the weirdoes away.

I got me a bottle of Guinness and stood to watch the crowd. There was a fair number of people on the dance floor gyrating to Bob Seger. I looked around to try and find someone to ask to dance.

What the hell? My eyes caught sight of this--girl--all in black, like a vampire or something.

Halloween was still a few months away, so I continued to scan the room. There was a nice looking redhead girl in jeans and a pink sweater standing up against the railing a few feet away from me, so I walked up and said, "Hi! I'm Jeremy. Care to dance?"

She looked at me and said, "No thanks. I have to go home and vacuum my rugs."

"Oh, okay, another time then," I said and returned to my spot.

I walked through the thin crowd over to the game room and played Pac Man for a while, surprised the antique still worked. I racked up 25,000 points until I ran out of quarters and headed back out into the main room again.

Oh shit! That girl in black walked right in front of me as I exited the game room. She was wearing a black top with a plunging neckline, bare back, bare midriff, and a short leather skirt with fishnet stockings. She had short, utterly black, hair that curved around her head to just above her ears and neck. Her navel ring sparkled from the spotlights above the dance floor. From the back, her head looked like a bowling ball. She had a black choker around her neck and a couple of black arm bands on her left upper arm. Whoa! Must be a dyke or something!

I walked up to the bar and got another Guinness and spied this cute blonde in faded jeans and a floral print blouse. I sucked in some courage and walked up to her. "Hi! I'm Jeremy. Care to dance?"

"No. I have to go home and wash my dog now."

"Oh," I said. "Okay then."

I walked into the back room that was a little quieter away from the main bar and the dance floor.

Finding an empty table, I sat and nursed my beer. A couple of guys were shooting pool at the other end of the room, and I figured I'd put my 50 cents in line for a game with the winner.

I looked around and--there she was again, sitting by herself at an adjacent table. What happened? Your lezzie date stand you up? Oh shit! I accidentally caught her eye. I instantly dropped my gaze and looked away. But I caught a closer look for a brief moment. Her nails were all shiny black, and--get this--she was wearing flat black lipstick on her thin tiny lips. Man! What a weirdo!

I shuddered and sipped my beer, then wandered back out to the main room again.

I found another spot against the railing looking onto the dance floor and just hung out for a while, watching the people. A slightly chubby girl came up to the railing next to me, so I said, "Hi! I'm Jeremy. Would you like to dance?"

"No thanks," she said. "You're not my type." Then walked away.

Jeez! It's not like I was proposing marriage or anything. Just a frigging dance.

I turned to walk in the other direction, and bumped into the vampiress. I almost spilled my beer on her.

"Hi," she said in a soft ethereal voice.

"Hi," I said, backing away to go around her.

"You're not exactly my type, but you wanna dance?"

I met her piercing brown eyes and said, "Okay." What else could I say after what I had just been thinking?

This refugee from The Addams Family was exactly my height, and I'm no shorty at 5'10", but she was anorexically skinny. Her skin, though, was nearly as white as ash. With my Irish complexion, people often remark how white my skin is, but I was golden compared to her skin. Well, it's just one dance; I don't have to touch her.