Chapter 2c

Pasadena, California

December 31, 1986

Rachel ended up wearing a black, thigh-length cocktail dress that clung to her body quite alluringly. Her toned legs were clad in dark nylons. She wore three-inch patent leather high heels on her feet. Her blonde hair — which was usually tied up in a ponytail at the restaurant — was styled and hanging down around her shoulders. Her face was carefully and expertly made up with just the right amount of blush, eye shadow, and bright red lipstick that glistened in the light.

When she opened the front door of her Pasadena apartment to Jake's knock he couldn't help but feel a sharp twinge of lust go coursing through him. "You are absolutely beautiful," he told her, quite truthfully.

She blushed, her long eyelashes batting just a little. "Thank you," she said shyly. "And you look... well... nice too."

He laughed. He was wearing a pair of faded blue jeans, tennis shoes, and an old blue sweater. "I look like a skid row bum next to you," he said. "I told you it was casual."

"Do you think I'm overdressed?" she asked, suddenly alarmed.

"Not at all," he assured her. "You'll have all the heads turning. I guarantee it. Are you ready to go?"

"Uh... sure," she said, "but before we go... well... can you come inside for just a second and meet my roommate? She doesn't believe I'm really going out with Jake Kingsley."

He went inside and met her roommate. She was a voluptuous brunette with large, jiggling breasts. She was dressed in a leather mini-skirt and a pair of knee-high boots, obviously about to go out on a date of her own. Her mouth dropped open when she saw Jake and she actually screamed, a shrill, piercing cry of worshipful disbelief.

"Oh my Gawd!" she yelled, bouncing over to him. "It really is you. She wasn't just fucking with me."

"It really is me," Jake said. "She wasn't just fucking with you."

"Oh my Gawd, oh my Gawd, ohmygawd!!" she yelled, bouncing up and down in excitement.

Rachel was clearly embarrassed by her roommate's reaction. It took her more than a minute to calm her down enough to make introductions — the roommate's name was Maureen. Jake took it in stride. He was quite used to women reacting in this manner when in his presence. He instinctively knew that if he wanted to, he could fuck Maureen right now, that she would accompany him to her bedroom right in front of Rachel if he only just asked. He didn't ask. Eventually he signed an autograph for her and told her it was time that he and Rachel got going. Maureen followed them downstairs, still bouncing excitedly and proclaiming "oh my Gawd!" every few seconds, saying she wanted to see the limo.

It was a standard stretch limousine, so common to Jake that he hardly even noticed it anymore. Both girls fawned over it, ogling the leather seats, running their hands over the window controls, drooling over the fully stocked bar. Finally, after more than ten minutes of showing them the various features, Maureen bid them a reluctant goodbye and went back into the house. Jake and Rachel settled into the seats near the back and Mario, their driver for the night, closed them inside. A minute later they were off, heading toward Malibu.

"Are you sure it was a good idea introducing her to me?" Jake asked. "Won't she go telling all your friends at school that you went out with me?"

"Probably," Rachel said, still looking around in awe.

"And won't word of that make it back to your boyfriend? I really don't like to make an enemy out of a man who might someday be treating me in the emergency room."

"It might," she said with a shrug. "I'm not really sure I'm going to be dating Paul much longer anyway, so what does it matter?"

"I see," Jake said, a touch of nervousness worming through him. He decided to treat it as he always did — with alcohol. "Would you like a drink?"

She did. He mixed her a whiskey sour and himself a rum and coke.

They arrived at Matt's Malibu beach house twenty minutes later. Mario held the door open for them and they stepped out, climbing the porch steps to the front door. Matt's butler opened it within seconds of the doorbell button being pushed. He led them inside to the entertainment room, where most of the people were gathered. Music was playing from the sound system at a volume just below the conversation dampening point. A keg of Foster's beer — an import from Australia — had been set up next to the bar. Nerdly and Coop were playing a game of pool at the table in the center of the room. Each had a young woman dressed in slutty clothing with them. Pauline was talking to Darren over in a corner. Another sluttily dressed woman was hanging on Darren's arm. Pauline had apparently come stag. Matt was over near the stereo system, loading CDs into his forty-eight disc changer. He had a drink sitting on the stereo cabinet and two women — one a petite brunette in a pair of hot pants, the other a demurely dressed redhead who looked like a librarian — standing next to him.

"Holy fuck!" Matt proclaimed when Jake and Rachel walked up to him. "Is this the waitress at that chow joint you took me to that one time?"

"This is her," Jake confirmed. "Rachel, I trust you remember Matt? He's kind of hard to forget."

"Hi, Matt," Rachel said shyly. "Nice place you got here."

"Jesus fucking Christ," Matt said, looking her up and down. "You're hot, baby! You oughtta wear that outfit when you're waiting tables. I bet your tips would go up."

She wasn't quite sure whether Matt was insulting her or not. Jake assured her that he meant that as one of his deepest and most heartfelt compliments.

"Fuck yeah, I do," Matt proclaimed. "You're the shit."

The party settled into gear. Everyone had a few drinks and then Matt broke out his newest acquisition — an electric water bong. "It doesn't actually burn the shit," he explained. "It just heats it up and vaporizes the THC for you. You can hardly feel the hit at all but it'll fuck you up like an F-111 over Libya."

He took the bong around to each person, refilling it after each hit from a large bag of green buds and explaining over and over how it worked. Rachel eyed it nervously as it came their way, sipping from her third whiskey sour.

"I've only smoked pot like twice, Jake," she whispered to him. "I'm a little nervous about it."

"You don't have to smoke it if you don't want to," he said. "We're here to have a good time. Nobody's gonna pressure you."

She thought that over for a few minutes and then decided to go for broke. She took two tremendous hits when the bong was given to her. Almost instantly her eyes began to glaze over. "Wow," she said. "I've never smoked anything like that before."

"Only the best in my house," Matt told her. "Only the fuckin' best. You in on this shit, Jake?"

Jake was in on it. He took two hits himself and was soon feeling quite all right.

As the night went on people gathered in small groups, talked, broke apart into other groups, and then talked some more. They munched on mushrooms stuffed with crab and cheese, finger sandwiches, taquitos smeared in guacamole, and several other appetizers prepared by Louisa, Matt's cook. They drank and smoked cigarettes. Matt, Darren, Coop, and a few of their women all snorted some cocaine from the edge of the pool table. Through it all Rachel stayed by Jake's side, flirting gently with him and making a point to touch his arm, his shoulder, his back whenever the opportunity arose. Several times she was a bit careless with her skirt when she sat down, letting Jake see that she was wearing frilly black panties beneath the nylons. It seemed that her boyfriend was the furthest thing from her mind right now.

Jake wasn't quite sure whether he should make a serious move on her or not. He genuinely liked her company and he knew that if they ended up having sex it would change their relationship, probably for the worst. Sex usually did that. And then there was the question of her boyfriend. She might not be thinking about him but Jake was. He didn't like to be thought of as a man who stole another man's girlfriend. But on the other hand, she was very attractive. As more drinks went down his throat, as he took more bonghits, his better judgement began to retreat to the back of his brain and his little head began to assert itself as the entity in charge.

"Do you want to go out to the balcony and look at the ocean?" he asked her just after ten thirty.

"Sure," she said, blushing a little, her leg rubbing against his.

He led her out the back door, the one that led to the ocean side of the wraparound balcony. The lights had already been turned out and the ocean air was brisk. Jake immediately heard the sound of a harmonica being played from somewhere to his right. He turned in that direction just as Rachel let out a gasp and a startled "oh my Lord."

"Jesus," Jake said, shaking his head a little. The harmonica was being played by Matt, who was sitting in one of the deck chairs next to the hot tub. Inside the hot tub were the two girls who were Matt's dates for the night. They were both naked and hotly caressing each other's bodies, their tongues in each other's mouths.

"Wassup?" Matt said nonchalantly, taking the harmonica from his mouth. The two girls didn't even break stride. "I'm just adding a little musical score to the action out here. You guys wanna stay and watch?"

"Uh... no, maybe later," Jake said. "We'll go over to the side of the house."

"Suit yourself," Matt said, taking a sip from his drink.

Jake led Rachel — who was still quite agape — over to the corner of the house, as far away as they could get from the hot tub while still being able to see the ocean.

"Are you okay?" Jake asked her.

"Those two girls were... were... and Matt was just... he... I mean... does this kind of thing go on a lot with you guys?"

"With Matt it does," Jake said. "He's kind of like a kid in a candy store sometimes. Do you want me to take you home?"

"No," she said immediately. "I'm sorry. I'm not a prude or anything. I've just never seen anything like that before. I've never even imagined something like that before."

"I'm sorry," Jake said. "Sometimes I forget how shocking our lifestyle might seem to someone who hasn't been around it."

"Is he going to... you know... have sex with them? Or are they just lesbians?"

"Oh he'll have sex with them all right," Jake said. "He's just enjoying a little warm-up action right now." He slid closer to the rail and put his arm around her, pulling her next to him. "How about we forget about that for the moment and just enjoy the ocean?"

She stiffened a little at first but finally allowed herself to snuggle into him. She laid her head on his shoulder and they simply stood there for a few minutes. The sound of the harmonica started up again, drifting to them on the breeze.

"He really is good with that thing," Rachel said. "If you can forget what's going on while he's playing it it's actually kind of... you know... romantic."

"Yeah," Jake said, playing with a lock of her hair. "I didn't even know he played the harmonica." He listened to the melody Matt was putting out. It was sweet and melancholy at the same time. There wasn't a note out of place or played sour, this despite the fact that Matt was loaded up with three different kinds of intoxicants and probably sporting a hard-on. Jake began to listen more closely, straining to hear the music.

Rachel turned her face up to Jake, signaling in that age-old manner that she wanted him to kiss her. But Jake didn't kiss her. Rachel was the furthest thing from his mind at the moment. His ear was still tuned to Matt's harmonica and an idea — a crazy, probably impractical idea — was starting to form in his head.

"Jake?" Rachel asked, confused, wondering why Jake was staring straight ahead blankly. Was he having a seizure or something? "Jake?" she said, a little louder this time.

"Harmonica," Jake whispered. "Son of a bitch."

"Jake, what are you talking about?"

He shook his head a little, seeming to clear it. He was clearly excited about something and it wasn't Rachel. "Come on," he told her. "I need to talk to Matt for a second."

"You want to go... go back over there?" she asked.

"You can stay here if you want," he said. "This is important. Really it is."

He started heading back toward the hot tub. She hesitated for a second, wondering what the hell was going on, and then followed, more than a little nervously. When they arrived back at the scene of the action the action in question had progressed quite a bit. The redhead was now sitting on the edge of the tub, shivering in the night air, and the brunette had her face buried between her legs, lapping away at her. Matt was playing like mad on the harmonica, his eyes drinking in the sight, his shoulders moving back and forth to the rhythm. He looked up when they came tromping over.

"Decided to watch the show after all?" Matt asked. "Pull up a chair."

Jake wasn't looking at the two women though (although Rachel couldn't take her eyes off of them). He was looking at Matt. "Where did you learn to play the harmonica like that?" he asked him.

"This?" Matt asked with a shrug. "I've always known how to play it. It was the first instrument I learned how to play when I was a kid. I've had this one since I was about twelve or so."

"No shit?" Jake asked. "You're a fuckin' master with that thing."

"I'm a musician, Jake," Matt said. "And a fuckin' good one at that. Why does it surprise you that I can play the harmonica?"

"I never really thought about it before," Jake said. "I think I have an idea."

"What?"

"Come in the house," Jake said.

"Right now?" Matt asked. "In case you failed to notice, I'm about to get into some serious double-team action here."

"You can get action anytime," Jake told him. "Come in the house. Right now! And bring that thing with you."

Jake pulled him to his feet and practically dragged him inside. The party was still in full swing and the stereo was blaring out Earthstone's latest CD. Jake went over and shut it off, causing silence to descend upon the entertainment room.

"What the fuck are you doing, Jake?" Matt asked. "Tell me what this shit is about."

"Get me a guitar," he said. "An acoustic."

"A guitar? Right now? What the fuck for?"

"Just do it," Jake said.

Matt seemed about to say something else but then he took a good look at Jake's face. He turned to Charles, the butler. "Hey, Chuckie," he said. "Go up to my office and grab that Brogan six-string that's stuffed in the closet. Bring a couple of picks down too."

"Right away, sir," Charles said. He headed for the staircase.

"What's going on?" asked Nerdly, who had been making out with his date when the interruption came.

"Ask Mr. Coitus Interuptus here," Matt said.

"I think I found a way to work I Am Time," Jake said.

"What?" asked Darren. "How?"

"Oh no," Matt said, shaking his head in disgust. "You can't seriously be thinking what I think you're thinking, are you?"

"I think I am," Jake said. "I play a solid backing with my guitar and we substitute the lead with Matt's harmonica."

The rest of the band all stared at him as if he'd lost his mind.

"No lead?" Coop asked. "Are you high?"

"Yes, I am," Jake said. "That's how I got the idea."

"Jake," Matt said gently, as if he were dealing with an unpredictable psycho, "we can't not have a lead guitar in one of our tunes. That's even worse than not putting Nerdly's piano in. That's not even rock and roll."

"I know it sounds crazy," Jake said, "but I think we can work it. Just play the same notes at the same tempo on the harmonica as you were doing on the guitar when we tried to nail it down. It'll mix. I'm sure of it."

"That might be true," Matt said, "but it won't be a hard rock song, it'll be blues. We're a hard rock band, not a blues band, remember?"

"Just try it," Jake said. "Right here, right now. I'll play your acoustic and sing the lyrics. You play lead on the harmonica. Just do it once and see what it sounds like."

Matt sighed. "All right," he said. "I'll try it. And then can I get back to my fornication?"

"Of course," Jake assured him.

Charles came downstairs carrying a white Brogan acoustic guitar by the neck. He handed it to Jake along with a couple of guitar picks. Jake set it in his lap and cracked his knuckles, limbering up his fingers. He then picked up the guitar and gave it a quick strum. It was slightly out of tune but not enough to matter for this particular experiment. He put his left hand on the neck, grabbing an F chord, and then began to strum a nothing rhythm, just to get the feel of the unfamiliar guitar.