tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8741895945584820022024-03-13T06:35:16.832-07:00The Monkey TribeMichael J. Vaughnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17776890054945089322noreply@blogger.comBlogger8125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-874189594558482002.post-29147895883280320102015-04-26T13:59:00.004-07:002015-04-26T13:59:54.202-07:00Ad: The Monkey Tribe<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQjRXkbwVXRd-vXFjkcJ5DeItLrXorrbFOEECh8AvV7PD9xW6NrSXt4c0-VL58-yHaiwJJ5bROtD_UjbE53KoIuA7xtknKObWVbtlbqFWbblZSsTQHUwD1h10YnbBFGFKS-GW8AhcDVT8t/s1600/mt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQjRXkbwVXRd-vXFjkcJ5DeItLrXorrbFOEECh8AvV7PD9xW6NrSXt4c0-VL58-yHaiwJJ5bROtD_UjbE53KoIuA7xtknKObWVbtlbqFWbblZSsTQHUwD1h10YnbBFGFKS-GW8AhcDVT8t/s1600/mt.jpg" height="400" width="251" /></a></div>
A SILICON VALLEY/SANTA CRUZ FACEOFF!<br />
<br />
A high-tech accountant discovers his inner shaman in Michael J. Vaughn's epic, seven-party comedy.<br />
"Smart and funny as hell!" --Jeanne Howard<br />
<br />
<div class="text_exposed_show">
"Features the best description of being stoned in English prose. I
felt like I was high, and I haven't touched the stuff for years. Bravo!"
--William H. Burman<br />
<br />
When the man who cost him his job offers Jack Teagarden a beachside
house-sitting assignment, he latches on to it like a man overboard. For a
child of Silicon Valley, the counterculture freakiness of Santa Cruz is
hard to deal with, until Jack's life coach takes him to an all-night
drumming party. Under the spell of a thunderous stream of percussion, a
pigeon-raising witch named Audrey LaBrea and a tragically unmarked plate
of brownies, Jack wakes up with grass stains all over his body and
rumors that he initiated a naked light-saber battle. So what's harder,
fighting the freaks? Or realizing that you are one? <br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Monkey-Tribe-Vaughn%E2%80%A6/%E2%80%A6/1440189013/">Buy the book at Amazon.com</a></div>
Michael J. Vaughnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17776890054945089322noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-874189594558482002.post-64021947466799112322015-04-22T12:21:00.002-07:002015-04-22T12:21:23.597-07:00The Popcorn Girl<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Hl7x52TrIBAS6jfPXaJU5SxRi0JDou1Z4mQfg0He41ocNEl0XViR-1HVytEdgTBcwc_AlZq16i7i8d8MGSKpnhsgmQPqm0RtNoj_zo98QK8Ul-UlXiTvmILQ6JQA7zlGjY9zX-ZUnEyp/s1600/pop.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Hl7x52TrIBAS6jfPXaJU5SxRi0JDou1Z4mQfg0He41ocNEl0XViR-1HVytEdgTBcwc_AlZq16i7i8d8MGSKpnhsgmQPqm0RtNoj_zo98QK8Ul-UlXiTvmILQ6JQA7zlGjY9zX-ZUnEyp/s1600/pop.jpg" height="400" width="251" /></a></div>
The Popcorn Girl: A Masterful Psychological Thriller for Atheist Readers<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Popcorn-Girl-Atheist-Novel-ebook/dp/B008GO4HBA/">Only $2.99 on Amazon Kindle!</a><br /><br />When
the owner of an atheist bookshop falls for the girl who works in the
moviehouse across the street, he has no idea what he's getting into.
Jasmina is the survivor of a toxically religious upbringing, and has
managed to escape only by losing her original identity and, when the
pressure gets too much, etching a staircase of cuts into her arm. When
Paul discovers a missing person flyer with a picture of a
twelve-year-old Jasmina, the psychological fireworks are about the
begin. A mind-bending thriller from the author of "Billy Saddle."<br /><br />"The
characters have a depth and charm that really drew me in. There is even
a very sweet romance. Interwoven throughout is a thought-provoking
exploration of religion and atheism. I've read other books by Michael J.
Vaughn; The Popcorn Girl is without doubt my favorite." --Michelle Cahn<br /><br />"THE POPCORN GIRL is a tremendously complex and bittersweet novel masterfully researched and honed." --CSLowe<br /><br />#2 on Amazon's literary fiction list!<br /><br />Michael J. Vaughn: The Greatest Writer You've Never Heard Of<br /><br />http://www.amazon.com/Popcorn-Girl-Atheist-Novel-ebook/dp/B008GO4HBA/Michael J. Vaughnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17776890054945089322noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-874189594558482002.post-72042451886769094522014-10-30T13:12:00.001-07:002014-10-30T13:12:06.754-07:00FREE on Amazon Kindle, Oct. 30: The Monkey Tribe<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdHxbGgUPOZPo2dHtSGHkuN2su-UP0ujSDS_ffQKEIvxuMMeNv2uxRBEDVGlJB6yY7p6FNCuk740x0mcayC8-f8G0MfyBSwlDfFeYBQdBRolrg-Vo-rZEKwmpvbhsS7w-W_NO8YLCFXKsF/s1600/monkey.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdHxbGgUPOZPo2dHtSGHkuN2su-UP0ujSDS_ffQKEIvxuMMeNv2uxRBEDVGlJB6yY7p6FNCuk740x0mcayC8-f8G0MfyBSwlDfFeYBQdBRolrg-Vo-rZEKwmpvbhsS7w-W_NO8YLCFXKsF/s1600/monkey.jpg" height="400" width="251" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">FREE on <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Monkey-Tribe-ichael-J-Vaughn-ebook/dp/B002P3LB12/">Amazon Kindle </a></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">F</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The Beast Has Eight Beats</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 24.0pt;">Jack perches on a long wood-slat
bench outside the State Park Safeway, holding the trio of objects that Ben
asked him to purchase: a four-pack of Guinness Stout (which he has never tried
before), a twelve-pack of bluefin tuna sushi (which he has never tried before)
and a package of Peruvian coffee beans (which he has tried once). The dusk is
dropping heavily on the parking lot, seasoned with the veil of ocean moisture
that never really leaves the Aptos air. A squadron of cypress trees skulk along
across the street, looking like caped villains with their rough, sweeping
limbs.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He
is yanked from his meditations by Ben, whose face appears before him at dwarf
elevation. Ben sits in a white Miata convertible, which looks very much like a
toy car at an amusement park.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Jump
in!” says his coach. “I think you can squeeze your groceries behind the seat
there. Not much space, but it’s usually just enough.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack’s
still folding his legs into the meager space beneath the dash when Ben pops the
clutch and they vault across the lot. Jack fights the gravity of a left turn to
wrestle a seat belt across his shoulder, and soon they’re zipping along Highway
One, south toward Watsonville.
Ben shouts over the rush of air.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Got
this car in a swap, for staining a guy’s deck in Palo Alto! Poor guy – married, two young
kids. I felt like I was taking his bachelorhood away! We’re going to Salinas! Y’got any
rhythm?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
have no idea!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You
will soon!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>They
sweep into the rolling farmlands south of Watsonville,
then cloverleaf inland into a series of tree-lined canyons. Ben turns right
onto a familiar stretch of 101, but three miles later he takes a left and
Jack’s lost again: another canyon, more farmlands (ribbons of strawberry plants
underlain with plastic), a street of tiny ranch-style homes, a limestone mine
lit up like a car dealership, then a long, straight drag along the base of the
dark hills east of Salinas. From there, Ben narrates his directions.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Okay,
a lit-up sign on a brick wall to the left. Kensington? Binghamton? Ah, Foothill Estates! Then
immediately to the right, an angled wooden gate – check! A right at the funky
gray hangar, couple of speed bumps – you can really feel the road in a Miata,
huh?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>They
follow a leftward arc of gravel road, pull through a gap in a high chain-link
fence and arrive at a line of bushes before a long mobile home with a carport.
What’s much more difficult to explain is the scene directly in front of them:
bars of bright red, blue and green flying about the front yard like a trio of
lunatic nightbirds.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh,
it’s that crazy Willie again,” says Ben. He flicks off the headlights and
Jack’s eyes begin to adjust: a small woman and a small man are assailing a
large man with light sabers, constructing a ballet of Robin Hoodish leaps and
spins.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Grab
your groceries and follow me,” says Ben. “We’ll ignore these roustabouts and
head inside.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
loads up and feels his way along, tracing a line of concrete squares to the
bottom of a small stairway. Ben reaches the top and is about to enter when the
door swings inward, the porch light comes on and out pops a tall woman with an
impressive head of curly gray-blonde hair. At the sight of Ben she explodes
into a smile, wrapping him in a hug that almost makes him drop the large canvas
sack that he’s carrying. He sets it down carefully and continues the embrace,
the both of them exclaiming away.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span><span lang="IT" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ansi-language: IT; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Ben! Terra! Terra! Ben! What the… </span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">How the… <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">So</i> long! Geez!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Some
time later, Ben finally recalls his hanger-on and turns to Jack. “Terra! I have
an initiate for you.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Terra
gives a witchy cackle, her eyes lighting up with a remarkably bright blue-gray.
“Ah-haeeeh! Young fresh flesh for my par-tee!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“This
is Jack Teagarden.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Hi.”
With his hands full of groceries, Jack offers a rather lame head-nod.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Nice
to meetcha, Jack. Let’s get your booty to the booty table.” She takes one of
his bags and peeks inside. “Sushi! I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">love</i>
sushi.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Inside
is a fairly normal-looking living room: fake hardwood floor, igneous-rock fireplace,
high angled ceiling. The contents, however, are something else: more drums than
Jack has ever seen, standing around in a cluster like the figures in White
Horse’s rocky courtroom.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“So this is
what we’re doing?” asks Jack.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Ben!” says
Terra. “You didn’t even tell him what we’re doing? What is that, some kind of
life-coach torture trick?” She turns to Jack. “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">We</i> are the Monkey Tribe. We play drums, and drink and smoke, and
talk and eat and goof off until all hours of the night.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“But I…
don’t know how to drum.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“You will
soon! And nobody will make you do it. You’ll simply be unable to resist the
gravitational pull. Believe me – I’ve seen it a hundred times. Now if you’ll
excuse me, Mama has to feed the horses before she gets to party. Need I say,
make yourself at home.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">She
disappears out the front door, letting in a tumult of Jedi shouts. A small
border collie, patchwork of black and white fur, trots in from the TV room to
inspect the newcomers. Ben squats down to rake a hand over the dog’s head and
talk to him in the voice of a pirate.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Jack me
lad, how’reya doin’ thurr Jack? Ahr, yurr a fine dog you is, Jack.” Ben looks
up and laughs. “Oh. Now <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that’s</i> funny.
I had not even made the connection. Jack Dog, meet Jack Teagarden.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack
Teagarden gives an awkward wave. He has never really trusted dogs. They’re not
far enough removed from wild beasts. You never knew when one might decide to
use your finger for an appetizer.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Here,”
says Ben. “Like this.” He takes Jack’s hand and pulls it to Jack’s nose. He
gives it a thorough sniffing.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Gotta
enter your scent on the canine database,” says Ben. “Well go ahead, give his
head a pat. Christ! We gotta get you loosened up. Let’s start up the Guinness.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">He goes to
the kitchen cabinet and pulls out two pint glasses, then opens two cans of
Guinness and quickly pours them in. They froth up like witches’ brews, then
settle into a chocolate brown liquid with an inch-high cap of custard foam. Ben
hands one to Jack and raises a toast. “To your first. First of many.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack sips
through the foam and strikes the liquid, a bitter licorice shock. Ben lets out
a satisfied sigh, then spots the lemon-sucking expression on Jack’s face and
bursts out laughing.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Sorry,” he
says. “It is definitely an acquired taste. But the acquisition is half the
fun.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The Jedis
make their entrance with a burst of laughter and verbal volleys. The smaller
man is giving the larger man a post-game critique.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“The
problem is, you’re looking to win the fight at any cost and you’re missing the
subtleties. The larger aim is the construction of an exciting, aesthetically
satisfying battle.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The big man
gives an evil, high-pitched laugh. “Pretty funny, coming from a man whose arms
have both been sliced off. Hahahahaha!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The smaller
man, whose sideburns and Mediterranean nose give him the air of a pirate, stops
when he spots Ben.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Ben! Who
have you brought with you?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Ben gives
the man a rowdy hug full of backslaps. “Ivan! Good to see you. This is Jack.
He’s a client; I’ve brought him here for monkey therapy.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Aye,” says
Ivan, grinning maniacally. “Everybody needs a little monkey therapy.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">These kind
of comments are doing nothing to put Jack at ease, and matters are not improved
when the rest of the tribe takes this as a cue to squeal and yip like
chimpanzees. Terra comes in, smacking her hands together exactly like someone
who’s been feeding horses. “Oh God,” she says. “They’re at it already.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“So Jack,”
says Ivan. “That scalawag over there is Willie – who so graciously brought his
high-end light sabers. And the blonde is Constance,
our Scandinavian beauty.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Willie and
Constance are busy placing a set of bongos on a stand, so they offer smiles and
nods. Willie is a robust Latino with a barrel chest and a pompadour of thick
brown hair. Constance is ballerina thin, with
straight blonde hair cut in a line over her eyes, high cheekbones and a
big-toothed smile.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“That’s the
crowd so far,” says Ivan. “But we’ll have more later.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“So when do
you start drumming?” asks Jack. The “you” is intentional – he cannot envision
being an actual participant.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Ivan cracks
a laugh, his brown eyes sparking. “Nothing happens on a schedule at Monkey
Tribe. It just happens when it does. But first, I think we need to throw some
herbs into the stew.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Ivan heads
into the kitchen to rifle through a drawer. Jack finds that Ben is still beside
him, looking over him just like a life coach.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“They’re
making a stew?” asks Jack.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Ben
snickers. “No. They’re preparing some pot.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">At the very
thought of an illegal substance, Jack’s heart is racing. “Well I… can’t do that.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Ben claps a
hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Jack, you don’t have a job, and you say you’re not
going to get one anytime soon. So no one’s going to be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">testing</i> you. If ever there was a time when you should try some pot,
it would be right now. And if you’re going to get any actual benefit out of
tonight, I am not going to have you walking around with that enormous stick up
your ass. As your licensed mental health consultant, I am ordering you to smoke
some marijuana.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“But I… I…”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Absolute
trust?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack is
feeling confused at Ben’s language, at the vision of large objects sticking out
of his rear-end. The next thing he knows, Ivan is handing him a small ceramic
pipe shaped like a penis.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Ivan is
desperately fighting a giggle. “Dude! I am <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so</i>
sorry. I lost my best pipe last week and… Terra got this as a gag gift at her
wedding shower, and it’s all we’ve got. Works pretty well, though, for a… for a
dick!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Ivan bursts
into laughter. Once he recovers, he holds the head of the penis to Jack’s
mouth. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Oh God,</i> thinks Jack. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Don’t think about it, don’t think about it.</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Here,”
says Ivan. “Put your finger on the carb, right near the… <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">scrotum!</i> Oh, God. Don’t overdo it, just breathe in slowly.” He
holds a lighter to the bowl, filled with light green, grass-looking, well…
grass.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Fighting
phobias both illegal and homosexual, Jack breathes in too hard and sends the
smoke straight to the back of his throat. Ivan pulls away the pipe as Jack
surrenders to a hunched-over, hands-on-knees coughing fit.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Ah the
young ones,” says Ben. “Always so eager.” He takes the pipe and holds in the
smoke, sucking at his teeth.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Jesus,
Jack. You all right?” It’s Terra, framed by a cloud. From his dog’s-eye view,
Jack can see what an Earth Mother she is – large breasts, broad shoulders,
muscular legs. Something about her face, also, a pale complexion that glows
angelically. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Oh God</i>, he thinks. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I’m stoned already.</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“You’re not
stoned yet,” she says. “Don’t worry. Here, try this.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">She hands
him a joint, which is much more suited to his abilities.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Okay,”
says Terra. “Now this time inhale, but hold it in for a while.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">He does as
he’s told, and Terra smiles approvingly. Jack looks around for Ben, but he
appears to have drifted off.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">It seems to
take forever for the pot to take hold, but just about the time that Jack is
having this thought he realizes that he actually <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">is</i> stoned. It feels like he’s walking around underwater, without
the need for oxygen – or maybe he has gills, how cool would <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that</i> be? Every few minutes, he seems to
punch back through to his normal consciousness, and each time he finds himself
in a new physical location, as if he’s undergoing some kind of
teletransportation. During one of these, he finds himself having an animated
conversation with Constance over the idea of
voluntary evolution, and he finds that his brain has separated into two
discrete camps. One camp takes what Constance
has said and spits back new ideas in complex, cogent combinations (“It could be
that computerized intelligence is the ultimate tool that we have developed for
intentionally advancing the mass intelligence”). The other camp appears in the
form of a coffeehouse slacker, coolly smoking a clove cigarette and saying,
“Dude! How are you even <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">doing</i> this?
You are <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so stoned</i>!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“And then
there’s this constant, individual search for identity. Are we really defined by
our jobs, or the ways in which each of us cultivates our intelligence and,
thereby, our spiritual selves?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">This is Constance. The tone of her voice is simultaneously soft
and firm, a dichotomy that Jack finds intriguing. Did he just think the word <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">dichotomy</i>?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I mean,
look at your case. That is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so</i> fucked
up that you have to go through all that stuff just because some cold-blooded
corporation has to send another thousand jobs overseas.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Oh God!
And the really screwed-up part is…” (This seems to be Jack’s own voice, which
sounds oddly loose and vibrant, like a morning-radio DJ.) “…the fucking bastard
who cost me my job got off scot-free. And now he’s letting me stay at his beach
house while he’s off on vacation. But <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that’s</i>
only because I caught him cheating on his wife in Oregon. You ever hear of the Devil’s Horns?
Or Multnomah Falls? In fact, this <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">house</i>
has its own waterfall. Crazy, high-tech haunted mansion. Scares the hell out of
me.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Dude!”
says the slacker. He picks at the fresh rattlesnake tattoo on his arm. “Why the
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hell</i> are you telling her all this?
Was that a drum?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack
teletransports
again, surfacing on an easy chair as a black cat purrs at his
shoulder. The stereo is playing an African tribe before the big hunt,
thin,
coal-black men jumping around a fire in Picasso masks. To his left he
finds the
moon goddess Terra, one ear cocked to a round frame drum painted with an
Irish
knot. She holds a stick with bulbous tips on either end, shaking it back
and
forth across the skin to produce a rolling thunder. Above and behind her
is Constance, wearing a focused expression as she works her
hands over two standing drums – he believes these are congas.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Across the
room, Ivan stands with a cylindrical drum tied around his waist, rolling his
hands across the top. The rolls are incredibly rapid, creating high bursts of
sound that ride the top of the rumble like a surfer at the peak of a wave.
Sitting just behind Ivan is Ben, sipping calmly from a pint of Guinness. He
sets it down, then picks up a dark, lacquered frog and runs a stick along its
ridged back, producing a sound very much like a frog. (“Genius!” says the
slacker.) Ben scans the room, one player at a time, mapping the sonic layout.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The front
door opens, admitting a red flame with green cat’s-eyes. Willie jumps from
behind his bongos to perform a greeting dance, gray goat’s hooves tied around
his ankles. The red flame gives birth to a smile, and scarlet lips that kiss
Willie on his plump cheek.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack looks
down and realizes that he is holding a drum between his knees, a smaller
version of Ivan’s. The drum carries a circle of dark fur around its rim, held
tight by a fishnet of knots and strings. Jack follows the grain of the skin,
swirls of butterscotch and chocolate against a field of sepia. The swirls are
like words in a sentence; when he reaches the period, he thumps it with a
finger. The drum gives out a hollow sound like black Peruvian coffee. The sound
shakes all the way to his legbones, exiting out his toes, which are tapping to
the beat of the tribe. He strikes the period with his palm and the sound nearly
spills him from his chair. Jack smiles.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>An
hour later, they’re still at it. Jack’s hands begin to ache from the
unaccustomed abuse. He scans the room to find his comrades intent on their
work, their eyes settled on a middle space over their drumheads, driving the
great rumbling beast forward. And yet, it’s the beast that’s truly in charge,
like an enormous dog dragging its owner by a leash. Despite the physical distances
between the drummers, they are closer in this conversation, this negotiation of
rhythm, than if they were speaking face-to-face.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack’s
hands are doing things that he really doesn’t understand; he has no idea where
this ability might have come from. But on he goes, playing along the drumhead
even as he finds the red flame directly across from him, seated on a low stool
with a drum just like his. She flashes her green cat’s eyes, and appears to be
sending him a message. It arrives in a single thump, and although Jack doesn’t
get it, his hands do. He waits for the beast to circle back to that same place
in time and sends the single thump right back. Flame girl grins, revealing a
leftward quirk in her thick, pliable lips. She waits again on the beast and sends
out two beats. (“It’s a djembe,” says the slacker. “You’re both playing
djembes.”) Jack’s hands follow the circle and strike the same two. The two of
them keep adding beats until they reach eight, and the beast can hold no more. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The beast has eight beats!</i> If you play
two beats, you have to wait six more till the circle returns. If you play
three, you wait five, four/four, one/seven. Numbers! No one told him there
would be numbers. He sends the red flame a loopy grin, excuses himself from
their tennis match and sets off into a roll, fractions too small to count,
stirring up the blurred light with his fingers.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
hears an off-beat beneath the rumble and tracks the sound to the far side of
the room, where Ivan sits behind a pair of white drums carved with Chinese
calligraphy. He drives them forward with two padded mallets, stepping out of
his pattern to hammer the two big beats. Jack’s hands are talking to him; they
say, ‘It’s another message.’ The two beats begin to spread around the circle,
making new converts, growing in volume, gathering silent space around
themselves until they are sonic booms, shaking the walls. Ivan flairs the
mallets over his head, a gesture that says, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Get
ready.</i> The beast circles once more and down they come, followed by a hacked-off
silence that sucks the air out of the room. The tribe answers with a thrilled
chorus of laughter, shouting, Mexican gritos, a few stomps on the floor. Jack
makes a sound like an overstimulated crow. The ruckus smooths out into a river
of chatter: “That ending! What a I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">love</i>
that part where you Did you see Ivan <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">dude!</i>
You were going <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">off</i> little clicking
thing God! I’m so I mean awesome! I don’t believe we’ve met.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>A
small white hand, palms red with use. He follows it up the arm to a porcelain
face, cat’s eyes, red flame of hair.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Hi,”
says Jack.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yes
you are. What’s your name, sailor?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Jack.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“No.
That’s the dog.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“No,
no,” says Jack, then loses himself in a fit of giggling.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Ben’s
face appears between them. “No, it really is Jack. Jack, this is Audrey, the
bird lady of Monterey.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“She’s
fucking gorgeous,” says Jack, who is completely unaware that he has just spoken
these words out loud.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Ha!”
Audrey laughs. “Smooth talker.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“No,
believe me, really,” says Jack. “Not talking smooth ever.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Okayee.”
Audrey looks to Ben. “First-timer?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Ben
laughs huskily. “For everything: drumming, pot, hookah pipe…”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Hookah
pipe!” says Audrey. “Where?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Follow
me,” says Ben. “You too, Jack.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Right,”
says Jack – but Jack’s intentions are immediately derailed by the smell of egg
rolls. He discovers an entire tray of them on the table, steaming with heat,
and attacks them like a bear waking from hibernation. This causes a white flame
of laughter from his left. It’s Terra, her face glistening with sweat from the drumming.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
don’t know why the munchies are so funny,” she says. “They just <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">are</i>. After you’re done gorging yourself,
young man, Ben says you should go back toward the car and you’ll spot him. And
if you need some extra incentive, Audrey’ll be there, too.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Are
those deviled eggs?” says Jack. “And sushi! Oh my God.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>After
consuming an enormous quantity of food, Jack grabs a chocolate brownie and
makes for the front door. The lawn is dark again, and two tall, gangly men are
slashing at each other with light sabers, each of them holding a can of beer in
his free hand. Jack spots the dull white ghost of Ben’s Miata and heads down
the walk. Hearing hoarse laughter from the carport, he rounds the corner to
find Willie and Constance roasting marshmallows over a trio of logs in a tiny
barbecue grill. Beyond them is a shimmering blue light that smells like
strawberries. It’s a hot tub, with three occupants: Ivan, Ben and Audrey. Ben
calls out.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Jack!
Over here, lad. Have a dip and a smoke. Or a smoke and a dip.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Or
a doke,” says Ivan.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Or
a smip,” says Audrey.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Ben
inserts the tip of a long, thin hose into his mouth and releases a cloud of
smoke. The hose trails back to a tall object on a nearby picnic table, looking
like the kind of lamp that sometimes contains genies. The lamp wears a cap of
aluminum foil, bearing two ash-gray bars with glowing orange hearts.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Jack,”
says Ben. “Is that chocolate on your teeth?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yes!”
says Jack.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“The
brownies next to the deviled eggs?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
think so. Why?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Ben
taps a thoughtful finger against his cheek, then smiles. “I’ll… tell you later.
So, are you coming in?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“But…I
don’t have a bathing suit.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Well
that certainly didn’t stop <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">us</i>.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It’s
about this time that Jack notices Audrey’s breasts, small milk-white mounds
with strawberry-colored nipples. He feels his face growing hot.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Ben
takes another puff and hands the pipe to Audrey. He gives Jack a serious study.
“I’m sorry, Jack. It could be I’m pushing you too hard. Lord knows, you have so
far been a tremendously pleasant surprise. You were <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">terrific</i> on the drums.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Numbers,”
says Jack. “It’s all numbers.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“So
it is! That’s marvelous, Jack. You are a certified public accountant of rhythm.
However, I fear that you will miss out on this delicious feeling, of sitting
naked in a hot tub with nothing but your friends and the stars! Let’s see,
where <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">is</i> that switch.” He finds a
dial on the side of the tub and turns off the underwater lamps. All that
remains is a flickering light from the barbecue.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Now’s
your chance, Jack!” says Audrey. “Take it off, baby!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Something
about a gorgeous female commanding him to strip makes Jack laugh out loud; he
decides to further the gag by pretending he’s actually going to do it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Okay.
But only if everyone closes their eyes.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Fine,”
says Ben. “But you only get ten seconds. Ten… nine…”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It’s
a part of Jack’s corporate nature that he simply cannot resist a deadline. He
tears off his jeans, shirt and underwear, then vaults over the side of the tub
with such haste that he almost slips and falls. He settles into a space between
Ivan and Audrey, submerging his private parts just before Ben calls out zero
and switches on the lights. His tubmates open their eyes, snickering.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Audrey
smiles in a most adorable fashion. “Where do you find these babes in the wood,
Ben?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Coffeehouses.
This one was eavesdropping on one of my sessions and found me simply
irresistible. Now, my student prince. You’ve come this far, you may as well try
the hookah. Are you sure it was the brownies next to the deviled eggs?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
think so.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Okay,
now this smokes just like a cigarette, and it won’t make you cough like the
pot.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
accepts the pipe-end from Audrey, trying hard to keep his eyes on her face. He
holds the end in his teeth and breathes in. It’s a sweet smoke, vapor chewing
gum, and he realizes it tastes like strawberries.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“It’s
a flavored tobacco,” says Ben. “Very smooth.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Dude!
Check <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that</i> out.” Ivan gestures over
the back fence. A sliver of moon is creeping past the ridgeline, a silver cap
on the dark east hills. Audrey leans toward Jack to say something, which makes
him that much more conscious of his nakedness. But he has to admit, the
nakedness feels good. It’s not so much a sexual thing as a sense that he has
crossed a line and now is dangling off the edge of the world, utterly
unfettered, in a terrified sort of way. He also can’t believe he’s just had all
of these thoughts in the time that it takes Audrey to lean his way.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
hate to admit that I peeked,” she says. “But I couldn’t help noticing that you
forgot to take off your socks.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>In
such close quarters, her whisper may as well be an aria. Ivan and Ben burst
into laughter. Jack practices a rough yoga attempting to remove said socks
without revealing his privates. He lifts them like a pair of used condoms and tosses
them to the cement with a dull splop.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
laughter dies down; Ivan manages to ignite a joint and send it around the tub.
Jack smokes it without coughing, and feels sophisticated. The talking dies down
in the dance of fireflame, stars sprinkled like grains of sugar on a
pitch-black table. Jack feels that his synapses have been lain open to the
night, and a thought enters the stream like the taste of a strawberry: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">This must be something like what they mean
when they say “happiness.”</i> He feels Audrey’s fingers folding around his.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He
wakes to a green ceiling, color of avocado flesh, and hears far-off chatter,
plus an odd mumbling sound, like the murmur of bad plumbing. He rolls over and
finds he is facing a fuzzy blue object with eyes. The eyes are dark, with
yellow circles. He reaches out to touch the fuzzy blue object and jams his
finger against a wire.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Ouch!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>His
exclamation silences the conversation. The flaps of his avocado tent rustle
open, allowing the entry of wild red hair followed by a sharp smile.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Damn,
boyfriend! ‘Bout time. Sorry about sticking you in here with the birds. They
make all these little noises while I’m trying to sleep, so I always bring an
extra tent. And they certainly weren’t going to bother <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you</i>, because man did you crash! Too bad, too, because I was
planning on testing out your man-parts – but, oh, probably better this way.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
feels very much like he must be gawking, and then the word “gawk” boomerangs
through his brain for deconstruction. Such a caveman-sounding word: “gok.” Me
kill mammoth, have bar-bar-cue. But he should probably say something. Even with
bloodshot eyes and electrocuted hair she is beautiful, and how often does he
enjoy the privilege of sleeping in the tent of a beautiful woman?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Hu…hi.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Well!”
she says. “We’re back to square one. I’m Audrey. I was naked in a hot tub with
you last night, but don’t worry, the Monkey Tribe has never once inspired a
sexual harassment suit. So get the hell up, would you? We’re inside, drinking
your coffee – excellent choice, by the way – and we’ve also got a nice little
breakfast buffet. If you’re a good boy, you might even be able to sneak in a
little shower, although I don’t know how long the hot water will hold out. Oh,
and I found these dangling from a rose bush. Ciao!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Audrey
drops an item on the tent floor and ducks her head back through the flaps. As
his eyes begin to focus, Jack recognizes the blue and white stripes of his
boxer shorts. This brings up the possibility that there might be some gaps in
his memory. Sliding out of his sleeping bag, he discovers grass stains on his
legs. He scoots sideways into his jeans (he’ll leave the boxers alone, thank
you) and scruffs his C-Valve golf shirt over his head. Then he crawls through
the flaps into the shock of sunlight. Standing up, he realizes that every
muscle in his possession is sore.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>When
he enters the living room, he is greeted by two small horses, or possibly great
Danes. They are white with black markings, snow fields with chunks of coal,
leading Jack to conclude that there is something in the water hereabouts that
drains all the color from the animals. One of the monsters steps forward and
gives him a blank-faced stare, like a bored bureaucrat asking for ID. Jack sees
that his eyes are a startling sky blue, and wonders if it’s advisable for him
to move, or breathe.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Luna!
It’s okay.” Terra comes to take the beast by the collar. “It’s okay, little
girl. He’s a Monkey. Now be nice.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>As
if to provide further testimony, border collie Jack splits the great Danes like
a field goal and jumps against Jack’s legs for a rubdown. Jack ruffles the
dog’s head, and then a round of applause erupts from the dining room. A dozen
breakfasters are gathered around a long table, laughing, smiling, clapping.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Terra
notes Jack’s puzzled look and takes him by the elbow to the kitchen, where the
counters are laid out with platters of scrambled eggs, bacon and casaba melon.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Forgive
them, Jack, but we’ve never seen a Monkey debut quite like yours.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Ivan
steps in to give him a chummy slap on the back. “And… we have a new activity to
add to our tribal repertoire: naked light saber battles.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Willie
jumps in with a Darth Vader voice: “You are a worthy opponent, Luke
Bumflasher.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
only words Jack can get out are, “I have to…” He walks quickly to the TV room –
noting a small pen near the stereo holding a black pig – then remembers a
bathroom to the right. Closing the doors behind him, he hears Terra say, “Oh
God, I hope we haven’t scared him off.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Now
that he’s found a refuge, Jack determines to indulge in every stall tactic
known to mankind. He enjoys a long sit on the toilet, staring at the patterns
in the green-and-white linoleum until they begin to reveal faces and Greek
symbols. After that, he takes a marathon shower, using what he can of the
available soaps and shampoos to clean up the streaks of mud and grass, some of
which are located in rather exotic locations. He dries off, combs his hair and
brushes his teeth (these last two accomplished with his fingers) and is
contemplating a shave when a quiet knock arrives at the door.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Jack?
It’s Ben. Are you okay? Would you let me in please?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He
considers saying no, but then those dreaded words “absolute trust” float into
his mind. He unlocks the door, then sits down on the closed toilet seat. Ben
comes in, looking impressively natty in white tennis shorts and a flowery red
aloha shirt.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Look,
Jack. I know this might be shocking news, but last night, you may have
discovered that you have a wild side. A wild, creative, fun side. And it was
beautiful. And just to clarify, you may have started the Striptathlon last
night, but believe me, we were all more than happy to join in. Poor Willie
managed to wander into the electric horse-fence, which is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">much</i> more embarrassing than anything you did. Is he ashamed? Hell
no! He’s a Monkey. You may think it’s disturbing to find out that you’re a bit
of a deviant, but son! That’s what Monkey Tribe is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">for</i>. It’s a safe harbor where we all get to be our own insane
little children for a while.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He
stops to wait for an answer from Jack, but Jack has nothing to offer.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Listen.
If it makes you feel any better, do you remember those brownies next to the
deviled eggs?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
blinks his eyes. “No.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Well
no, I guess you wouldn’t. Those were pot brownies, and I saw you eating one a
little bit before your… adventure.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
nods his head. Ben puts a hand on his shoulder.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Listen.
You have exceeded all expectations. Your Monkey Tribe SAT scores are off the
charts. I cannot ask a single thing more. But sooner or later, you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">do</i> have to leave this bathroom, and
there’s an entire room of people out there who would love to be your friends.
It’s a good general rule of living that you shouldn’t turn away friends. So
give me five minutes to give them a little briefing, and we will all pretend
that nothing happened at all last night. Deal?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
thinks about it and realizes that sooner or later he <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">will</i> have to re-enter the world.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Deal.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Ben
leaves, and Jack can hear the expected sounds: the general chatter coming to a
halt, Ben’s baritone request, and a gradual return to the noises of a
morning-after buffet, along with someone making small patters on a conga (a
little hair of the dog, as it were). Jack makes a slow re-entry, and what he
doubts will happen actually does. The breezy chatter goes on, and everyone
pretty much ignores him. Terra comes over to guide him into a chair at the
table.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“The
food was getting cold, so I microwaved a plate for you. Dig in whilst I prepare
you a cup of that lovely Peruvian coffee. Black?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Sure,”
he says. “Thanks.” He glances out the window at the brown hills, hinting at
green where the recent rains have had their effect. The ridge dips in the
center, a perfect location for a giant saddle. Jack considers a cousin for the
Imp of the Perverse: the Imp of the Distant. Sitting here, the Imp would like
nothing more than to be standing on top of that hill. Were the Imp actually
standing on that hill, he would look down on the merry little farmhouse with
the black and white animals and wish that he were <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">there</i>. Jack realizes how suddenly hungry he feels – the same
wolf-mad hunger he felt at Multnomah Falls – and he tunnels into his scrambled
eggs. Terra places a mug of coffee next to him and runs a hand over the top of
his head. Her fingers leave a trail of electrons, a lighter-than-air tingle
that stays with him all the way through breakfast.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
Tribe seems to be largely mellowed by the previous night’s activity, but there
are still a few small projects underway. Jack returns outside to find Ivan at
the center of the lawn, unreeling the last few feet from a roll of kite-string.
The object of his effort is a standard-looking frame kite bearing the face of a
red-tailed hawk. Ivan seems to be about the mellowest of the Monkeys, so Jack
walks over to attempt a conversation.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Hi.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Hey.”
Ivan’s wearing fly-eye sunglasses that give him a distinct rock-star aura.
“This thing goes up pretty easy in the afternoon. That coastal wind really
picks up. I put it up yesterday when people were just arriving – they said they
could see it for miles.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Cool,”
says Jack. He’s very pleased with his word choice. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cool</i>. Very universal. Ivan ties the kite-spool to a fence of
sun-gray pickets.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“So,”
Jack continues. “Was I… Was I any good last night?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“At
light saber…? Oh. Right. Not supposed to mention that.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“No.
At drumming.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yeah,
actually. Yes. It was interesting. You kind of went through the standard newbie
Monkey process. At first you were pretty timid. Considering the nature of our
little group, very understandable. As the pot kicked in, however, I think you
actually got a little <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">too</i>
enthusiastic. You had some good energy, but you were off on your own; you
weren’t keyed in to what the group was doing around you. Again, very
understandable – that first taste of group drumming is very adrenalizing. But I
think by flaming away like that, you sort of broke the back of your
nervousness, and right after that, you started watching everybody else, and
sort of… clicked in. It was very cool. All of a sudden, you just <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">got</i> it.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Numbers.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Numbers?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I’m
an accountant. I’m… well, this is embarrassing, but I’m in love with numbers.
And I didn’t expect there to be numbers in drumming.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yeah!”
says Ivan. “It’s all fractions. You’re taking this continuum of time and
knifing it up like a big submarine sandwich.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
solidifies a thought by focusing on Ivan’s kite. “I was watching those rolls
you were doing. They were much too fast to quantify, but at one point I
realized that you were dividing each fractional beat into three.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Ivan
grins. “Triplets.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh,
like twins?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Exactly.
A beat – or a zygote – divided into three.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
don’t even know how I knew it was three.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Ivan
slaps Jack’s shoulder. “It could be you’re a natural. But it also could be
you’ve never thought with your solar plexus before.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You
mean, your gut?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
like ‘solar plexus’ better. Guts are messy.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
emits a sound, something like a high-pitched bark. He thinks it’s a laugh, but
he doesn’t remember it ever sounding like that before. The front door swings
open, producing Terra and Audrey. Audrey’s hair is damp from the shower, and
hangs down in fetching tendrils, as if she’s moussed them down for a trip along
the catwalk.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“The
red flame,” says Jack. “She’s the one who gave me the numbers.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“The
Red Flame?” says Ivan. “Sounds like some kind of superhero. So… why don’t you
go thank her?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Because it would be like talking to the
homecoming queen, </i>thinks Jack. It would be like talking to Katie
McPhillips. He handed her a slice of pizza at the cafeteria once. She said
“Thank you” and smiled. He almost passed out.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Did
I… the naked thing, last night. I really did that?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You
sure did. And I hope you get over the embarrassment soon, because it was
fucking brilliant, and it will soon pass into Monkey lore, and we will be
sitting around telling that story for years. You’re a star, man!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
looks carefully at the grass, feeling grossly ashamed. Ivan slaps him on the
shoulder. “Look at it this way, Bubba. You could go over there right now, find
yourself unable to produce anything but doo-wop syllables – ramalamadingdong,
sh-boom sh-boom – and still not cause yourself more embarrassment than you did
last night. Besides, I think she liked what she saw.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack’s
not positive, but he suspects that, under the sunglasses, Ivan is winking.
While he’s looking, the surface of said glasses produces the image of a woman.
When he turns, Audrey is inches away, grabbing his hand.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Hi
Jack. Give me a hand with something, wouldja?” She pulls him toward the green
tent, then gets on all fours to crawl inside. He finds this point-of-view very
unsettling.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Come
on in!” she calls. He gets on his knees – achy from last night’s battle – and
finds her squatting behind the bird cage.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“We
need to lift it just a little, so it doesn’t tear the floor of the tent, and
take it outside. There’s a handle along the bottom there.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
operation is awkward, but the cage is lighter than it looks. Soon they’re
kneeling on the lawn, looking over a pair of large blue-gray pigeons, burbling
excitedly in the sudden light. Audrey reaches inside, moving her fingers slowly
over the larger of the two, and clamps her hand across its body, securing both
wings. She pulls it carefully outside, shifts her grip so she’s holding it with
both hands, and shows it to Jack.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“This
is Mamet,” she says, teacher-like. “He’s a racing homer, which is why he looks
like a regular pigeon on steroids. Mamet’s my fastest flyer, and when he’s
courting a female he sounds like he’s swearing, which is why I named him Mamet.
He’s what you call a blue bar, ‘cause he’s light blue all around except for
those dark epaulets on his wings. He’s a little frantic right now – and you
would be, too, if some gigantic alien being were holding your wings. But watch
this.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She
returns Mamet to her one-hand grip, then holds him upside-down and strokes his
chest. He grows immediately still.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“It’s
almost a hypnotic trance,” she says. “Now, hold out your hands so they’re
facing each other, and touch your thumbs together. And hold on tight – he’s
pretty strong.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Audrey
slides the pigeon into Jack’s hands. He’s impressed by the pulse of strength as
Mamet struggles against his new captor. Jack slides his left hand around both
wings and copies Audrey’s upside-down chest stroke. The bird emits two throaty
murmurs and then grows silent. Audrey reacts with a pleased smile, an
expression that would melt him into the grass were he not concentrating so hard
on the task at hand. She reaches into the cage and extracts a slightly smaller
bird covered in dark blue feathers.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“This
is Mamet’s wife, Cigarette. Pigeons are monogamous, actually – much more so
than humans. I think I named her Cigarette because I was trying to give up
smoking. She’s a blue check – note the cross-hatches in her feathers. Now, if
you’ll stand with me…”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
shuffles his feet and presses upward, keeping a close eye on his captive.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Now,
we go for the release. Put Mamet right-side-up, so he can catch his bearings.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
flips him slowly over. The bird’s eyes go back to open, alert circles, but he’s
not struggling like he was before.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Okay
now. On three, we’re going to toss them lightly into the air. Ready? One, two,
three!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>They
toss the birds skyward, and they each take wing, joining up as a pair and
circling the house three times before heading off for the hills of Monterey.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“They
circle like that to get their readings,” says Audrey. “Some kind of magnetic
pulse, or so goes the theory. This is a pretty short flight, though. They’ll
certainly beat <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">me</i> home. I took them
to Reno once.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Wow,”
says Jack.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Audrey
seems amused and enchanted at his relative lack of speech, the natural
attraction of the talkative for the mute. She reaches a hand to the side of
Jack’s head, grabs a hank of his hair and pulls him forward for a kiss that
could almost be described as fierce. Jack feels their teeth scrape together,
and a flicker of tongue across his lips.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Audrey
pulls away, wearing a look of triumph. “Sorry. You have this irresistible
innocence about you, and I just wanted to smash it into little pieces.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
exhales. “O…kay.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I’m
glad you decided to become a Monkey.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
am too.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Jack!
Stop molesting that poor girl. Time to go.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It’s
Ben, walking their way with Ivan and Terra.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“All
set to go? Got anything inside?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Um.
No. Not that I remember.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
fivesome conducts a round of hugs in all possible combinations. Jack recalls
the look of Audrey waving over her shoulder as she strides toward the house. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Strides</i>. A few moments later, he’s on a
farmland road, the wind scouring his hair, his lips still vibrating with
Audrey’s kiss. He spots Ivan’s kite, a tiny red dot over the farmhouse. Ben
shouts at him over the noise.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You
better watch out for that girl! She’ll turn you into a human being.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
motion of the car lulls Jack quickly to sleep. Waking up near Watsonville, he’s
feeling groggy, and when Ben asks for directions he forgets his guilty secret.
In a few minutes, they’re pulling up to Thompson’s monstrous house.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You
bastard!” says Ben. “You’re the owner of Big Brown?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh
Jesus,” says Jack. “No, I’m just house-sitting.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Well
shit – give me a tour!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Ben
hops out, and Jack follows him up the tiled steps. “I thought you didn’t like
this house,” he says.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Aesthetically,
maybe. But I’m dying to see what’s inside.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Ben
is thrilled at the thumbprint security lock, the indoor rapids, the dangling
hi-def, and especially the see-through shower. “Is there a third floor?” he
asks. “Seems like I saw a set of stairs.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
haven’t been there,” says Jack. “It’s a little intimidating.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Follow
me,” says Ben. “I will be your Sir Edmund Hillary. Ah, here it is.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He
boards a flight of stairs next to the bathroom, opens a double door at the top
and flips a switch to reveal a single, enormous room containing a veritable
amusement park: a set of weightlifting stations with a treadmill, a hardwood
floor with wall mirrors and a barre, a wall lined with pinball and video games,
a pool table, a miniature golf hole ending in a scale model of Big Ben, and
what appears to be a single bowling lane littered with balls and pins.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Wow!”
says Ben. “This friend of yours may be yuppie corporate scum, but the boy
certainly has style. Wait a minute. Is that another set of stairs?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>They
climb a dozen metallic black risers next to the bowling lane, and find
themselves at another double door. Ben swings through to a rooftop sundeck
outfitted with fountains, patio tables, a pair of wooden porch swings and a
large telescope under a white belvedere. A trip to the railing reveals a view
of Seacliff Beach and the Concrete Boat. Ben turns back from his reconnaissance
wearing a conniving grin.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Jack
meboy. I think I’ve got a brilliant fucking idea.”</span></div>
Michael J. Vaughnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17776890054945089322noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-874189594558482002.post-28756580398524004552013-04-10T17:48:00.001-07:002013-04-10T17:48:00.677-07:00FREE on <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Fields-of-Satchmo-ebook/dp/B00C520GF0/">Amazon Kindle</a>, April 11. One day only! Fields of Satchmo - wild American poems by Michael J. Vaughn. Michael J. Vaughnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17776890054945089322noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-874189594558482002.post-49187140798080491532013-03-27T17:19:00.001-07:002013-03-27T17:19:41.495-07:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgvlZjP_Jp-HBX8FtQJw73EhftXg0z3RZEbI3Y_AzAmvFl_6UOpy7f0ieUmTNl80ajNbDIwxn84j5B4EXRa7qr-NVc8doe4dKgvDowxEw_iGaSJjSfSjeKwIoa2wJh2dJ3et_PhCE0mht6/s1600/lightness.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgvlZjP_Jp-HBX8FtQJw73EhftXg0z3RZEbI3Y_AzAmvFl_6UOpy7f0ieUmTNl80ajNbDIwxn84j5B4EXRa7qr-NVc8doe4dKgvDowxEw_iGaSJjSfSjeKwIoa2wJh2dJ3et_PhCE0mht6/s320/lightness.jpg" width="275" /></a>Michael J. Vaughn's novel <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Operaville-ebook/dp/B00C1RAQGI/">Operaville</a> is now available on Amazon Kindle - free for five days beginning March 28!<br />
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Michael J. Vaughnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17776890054945089322noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-874189594558482002.post-8758723023597800252013-03-21T14:28:00.003-07:002013-03-21T14:28:40.609-07:00The Monkey Tribe, Michael J. Vaughn's wild tale of a Northern California drum circle, is now available on <a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Monkey-Tribe-ebook/dp/B002P3LB12/">Amazon Kindle</a> for just 99 cents!Michael J. Vaughnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17776890054945089322noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-874189594558482002.post-71919541670107842702012-06-20T14:36:00.001-07:002012-06-20T14:36:48.177-07:00<style>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">L</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Milk-Chocolate Parts</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Faced with the landlord surprise,
Jack decides that he’d better see Audrey off. He wanders back to the tile steps
feeling like he’s been caught having a party while his parents were off on
vacation. And then he realizes that this is not a metaphor at all – he <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">has</i> had a party, has screwed one woman
in Thompson’s shower, another in his bedroom. His <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">mistress</i> in his bedroom. After wearing his best clothes. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Jesus.</i> By any measure, he has broken the
house-sitter’s code.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
closes the front door and spies Thompson’s shoulder over the top of the great
white couch. He’s about to tap said shoulder when he hears snoring. Though
seated in an upright position, ostensibly watching ESPN, Thompson is sound
asleep.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Poor guy. Must have been a hell of a flight.</i>
The thought is followed by its logical succedent: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Where’s the wife and kids?</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
realizes he’s pretty pooped himself. He stops by Thompson’s room to pick up a
bathing suit and towel, then trudges to the roof for a session in the hot tub,
followed by a nap on the chaise lounge.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Are
we assuming that sunburn red cancels out pumpkin orange?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
is surprised to find himself still on the roof, his shoulders tender from UV
assault. He rolls over to find the adjoining chair occupied by the more
standard version of Thompson: shaved and sharp in blue jeans and a red
Guayabera shirt.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“But
I gotta tell ya, even for an Oompah-Loompah, that orange chick was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hot.</i> Where’d you dig her up?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
mutters the phrase “Monkey Tribe,” under the assumption that this will explain
everything.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You’re
babbling, my friend. Hey, can I buy you dinner? You know, for not burning down
my house?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
sits up and rubs his eyes. “Sure. Sounds good.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Fantastic,”
says Thompson, finally making with the GQ smile. “Can you dash through the
shower in fifteen minutes? I am damned hungry.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Um,
sure.” Jack stands, revealing a skin tone that looks like a salad of radish and
marmalade.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“And
for God’s sake,” says Thompson, “wear a long-sleeve shirt.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Subjecting
his burnt back to the shower spray is a trial, but later, cruising Highway One
in Thompson’s Carrera, the wind blows under his shirt, tickling his tender hide
in a delightful fashion. A few miles south, they pull into the Seascape
neighborhood and a resort called Sanderlings, where they sit at an outside
table under a parasol heater. Their vista takes in a large cliffside lawn
bisected by an artfully winding path. The ocean beyond serves up a million
diamonds of dappled sun.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“They
do weddings out there,” says Thompson. He’s quiet for a few seconds, then snaps
into a digression. “They had this big storm a couple years ago, and even after
it cleared out the waves were crazy and high. Some bride in Monterey was posing
at a spot near the rocks when a wave rose up and just took her away. She
drowned, a half-hour after getting married.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
remembers the story, and it still gives him the chills. Thompson’s attention
shifts to the waiter.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Hi.
How about some crab cakes to start, and I’ll have the Forest Meridian
Chardonnay. Jack?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh,
um. Can I get a double latte?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Absolutely,”
says the waiter. “I’ll be right back.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Thompson
takes a sip of water and gives Jack an appraising look. “Beyond the orange
skin, mi amigo, there is definitely something different about you. You’ve
become a Santa Cruzan, haven’t you?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
has been running a low-level inner debate that just now is coming to a head.
He’s got enough dirt on this dude to sink a Senator. For once in their sketchy,
one-sided relationship, he can say whatever the hell he feels like.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
think it’s more that I’m getting laid.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Thompson
lets out a laugh loud enough to upset the conversation of a family dining
across the patio.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh-hoh!
My friend Jack. You’ve been playing the beach mansion for all it’s worth.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
sees the not-so-subtle jab at his lack of babe-landing skills, but also
realizes that it’s absolutely true. “That’s the oddest thing of all. Audrey –
the orange one – she seems to have fallen for me before she had any idea about
the house. Hell, before she had any idea about <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">me</i>. It really confused me.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Ah-hah!
I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">know</i> that feeling. You are
automatically suspicious of a woman who likes you, because obviously she has no
taste in men. Right?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
laughs. “That it <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so</i> it. And then,
somehow, a second one came along.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Thompson
slaps the table, jangling the silverware. “You nailed two chicks in my
household? Where’d you find this one?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“She
was visiting friends in town. I met her on the beach, right outside.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Woo-hoo!
Nothin’ like home delivery. Details? Details?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">This is one of those locker-room
conversations</i>, thinks Jack. Details, details. “She had this air of class
about her. Maybe even a little stiff, so you make certain assumptions.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Like
she does it missionary only,” says Thompson. “And she weeps afterward. And then
writes about the experience in her journal: ‘Jack and I made love this evening.
He was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so</i> tender.’”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Wow.
You’re like, a student of the gender.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">love</i> women – they’re so pathetic.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Well,
anyways, once in the bedroom, this one was a banshee: screaming, swearing,
ripping clothes…”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh!”
says Thompson. “The naughty librarian, nothing better. Was she Catholic?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Close.
British.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Really?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“One
of those posh London accents. Like… Elizabeth Hurley.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Thompson’s
smile begins to shrink.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“It
was Brigit.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack’s
ready for a long walk home, maybe even a pop in the nose. What he gets is a
whole bunch of nothing. Thompson stares at the table, rubs his chin, breathes
in like he’s going to say something but doesn’t. Finally he rises, turns
carefully from his chair and walks down the path to the wedding site, settling
on a bench that faces the ocean.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
waiter arrives, looking puzzled.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Um…
he’ll be right back,” says Jack. The waiter leaves their beverages. He has seen
this scenario before – his restaurant seems to be a hot-spot for breakups – but
he can’t imagine that Antonio Banderas out there just got dumped by this <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">schlub</i>.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
sips at his latte, trying to figure Thompson’s response. This utter neutrality
was not even on the list. Five minutes later, he’s halfway through his latte
and Thompson seems to have turned into a bronze. Jack heads down the path and
stops at the end of the bench, a safe distance away. He’s about to say
something when he finds rivulets tracking Thompson’s face.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I’ve
lost her,” he says.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Well
sure. When she found out you were married…”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Esmerelda.
I’ve lost Esmerelda.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
eventually convinces Thompson to eat something. He picks at a plate of pesto
ravioli as Jack lays into an Idaho trout with rosemary potatoes. He is much
encouraged when Thompson’s eyes glimmer and he lets out a laugh.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You
and Brigit. Damn, Jack. I didn’t know you had it in you. Was it kind of a
revenge fuck?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh
yeah. She insisted we do it in your bed, in front of your family photos.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Man!
Women. What did she do when she found out about me?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Jumped
in the ocean.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I’m
flattered. And you jumped in to save her? And she was so grateful she jumped
your bones?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yep.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You
know, I think you did me a favor. I needed to clear Limey Girl from the
situation – but any attempt at direct communication would have been one more
step toward divorce.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
gazes over the cliffs, where the faint green light of a ship is inching across
the black horizon.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“How
did she find out?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Bloody
fucking cell phone,” says Thompson. “That’s the one contact I allowed Brigit.
Toward the end she was getting pretty desperate, and a wife notices how many times
a day her husband ignores an incoming call. And, a guy’s gotta take a shower
sometime, right? So I’m in Milan, merrily scrubbing away at the hotel, and a
text message buzzes in. Ezzie launches into spy mode at the same time that
lovely Bridgey launches into nude photo attachment mode. She also scrolls
through three preceding messages – all of them highly suggestive, and Thompson
is officially FDA-rated dead meat.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Ezzie
is scary-cool in situations like this. She wanted so bad for Sanja and Nikola
to enjoy the rest of the trip that she managed not to let on. When we arrived
at JFK, she sent the kids off to a playground, turned to me very calmly and
said, ‘Here’s the deal: I know about Brigit. I’m taking the kids to Madison to
stay with my folks. You’re going the hell home, and you will wait to hear from
me. As far as the kids will know, we’re just extending their vacation. Do all
of this or I will call a divorce lawyer to-morrow.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Wow,”
says Jack. “Ice in the veins.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“She
is a mightily strong woman. And I am up against it.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Thompson
pierces a square of ravioli and chews at it like he’s ingesting some
bitter-tasting medicine.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I’m
not sure I’m getting this,” says Jack. “Wasn’t there trouble in your marriage
already? Isn’t that why you were with Brigit?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“That’s
the usual assumption. But no. A couple of little kids do suck a bit of the
romance out, but nothing tragic or unexpected. Nothing to… God, Jack. It’s
Ezzie, and Nikola and Sanja. I can’t… I feel like I can’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">breathe</i>.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Thompson
is butting up against tears again, and you can tell he’s sick of the fight. His
jaw tightens up, and his eyes wander around the patio.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
finds himself thinking like Ben. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What
does this person need right now? What can I do to help him?</i> He takes
another bite of his trout (he is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really</i>
enjoying this trout) and takes a long time to chew it, giving Thompson time to
get somewhere else. Jack looks inside and notices a large fishtank in the
lobby, a trio of orange clownfish conducting a pas de trois against the dark
rocks. He clears his throat, feeling like he’s about to give a speech.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Thompson,
I feel like I owe you an explanation. You left one person here to look after
Big… um, your house, and you have come home to someone who’s much different.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Thompson
smiles, well aware of Jack’s ploy. “For one thing, I left a Caucasian and came
back to a cantaloupe.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
laughs. “You got me there.” Then he considers where this story begins. “You
told me to check out the Aptos Coffeehouse. So I did, and I ran into a guy I’d
seen on the beach the night before. His name was Ben, and he was a life coach.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“…and
that is how Audrey and I ended up arriving at Big Brown with orange skin.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Thompson
raises an eyebrow. “Big Brown?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
laughs. “Yeh. That’s what the locals call it.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Isn’t
that a racehorse?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Coincidence.
As you may suspect, it’s not exactly a term of endearment.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Like
‘Big Brown Dookie.’”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Somethin’
like that. Funny, though. They like it a lot better once they get inside. Ben’s
the biggest convert of all.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Ben
sounds pretty fucking cool.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh,
he is. Without seeming to have done much at all, he has utterly transformed my
view of life.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
think it’s pretty amazing, Jack. When I saw you in Depoe Bay, I thought, God,
this guy looks <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">pathetic</i>. And it
occurred to me that a few weeks in ‘Big Brown’ might do you some good. But holy
shit! I don’t think I’ve <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ever</i> had a
month like your month.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
somehow doubt that,” says Jack.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Well,
okay. A month I can remember. Hey! Can we hitch a ride?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He’s
calling to a young Latino driving a golf cart beach shuttle. The trailer is
occupied by an elderly couple, with room for more.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Sure!”
says the driver. “Gotta go right now, though.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Just
paid our bill,” says Thompson. “Come on, Jack – and bring your drink.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
gathers up his Long Island iced tea and jumps on board. They face sideways as
the cart drops into a canyon covered in pampas and cypress trees. They come out
at a concrete pad before a wide beach, the near horizon peppered with fires in
concrete rings. Thompson slips the driver a ten and leads Jack to a ring at the
far edge, accompanied by two white beach chairs.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“That’s
what I love about this place,” says Thompson. “They always assume you’re a
guest, and treat you accordingly. And I tip accordingly, which nicely seals the
deal.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
focuses past the fire on a thin white stripe that represents the breakers.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
fucked you over pretty good, didn’t I?” says Thompson.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
is struck nearly dumb, but quickly recalls his pledge to ballsy honesty.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yes.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“In
fact, my friend, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you</i> may be
responsible for my impending divorce. Follow me on this. When all that shit
came down at C-Valve, I truly expected the hammer to finally get me. Hell,
maybe I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wanted</i> the hammer. I saw a
lot of people at Enron tossed overboard while I slipped through unscathed. But
Jack Teagarden – <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">there</i> was a man so
tortured by conscience that he wanted the hammer even more than I did. I began
to suspect that, this time, I didn’t even have to lie my way out. All I had to
do was nothing. And it worked. After that, I believed that I was bulletproof –
that no matter what crimes I committed, there would come along a Jack Teagarden
to save me. The very week of your so-called layoff, I went on that trip to
Portland and met Brigit.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Now,
please understand this: I’m an extremely good-looking man. Over the years of my
marriage, I have fought off many an offer. But dammit! A man gets tired of
saying no to perfectly good pussy. ‘Oh, pussy? No thanks. Been tryin’ to cut
down.’ So the redhead with the fine white ass and the Spice Girl accent makes
me an offer, and for once I accept. And I’ll tell ya, it was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">powerful</i>. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">You</i> screwed two women this month, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you</i> know how it feels. Wasn’t it powerful?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yes,”
Jack admits. “You fucker.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Thompson
takes a moment to luxuriate in his Manhattan. “Yes. I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">was</i> a fucker. I deserve every epithet you can come up with. And I
owe you for fucking Brigit. Now, if she starts any trouble, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I’ve</i> got something to hold over <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">her</i> head. It ain’t much, but I’m
desperate.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He
takes a moment to laugh at his own pathetic situation.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You
know, I have always had it easy. I could give you this epic sob-story about
growing up poor in San Antonio, with parents so goddamn Mexican I couldn’t
stand it. A maid and a gardener, for Christ’s sake. A maid and a gardener! But
fuck all that, because I knew early on that people liked me for no particular
reason. My good looks and charm made them feel better about the world in
general, and that’s all I really needed. When they found out I was also good at
math… Fuck! Every goddamn college in the country wants a good-looking Latino
with a spreadsheet for a brain. I used what God gave me – I used it in spades.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Now,
if you plot this Great American Dream on a grid, this story should end at a
blonde white girl with a tight ass and a talent for blow jobs. I went to the
University of Wisconsin, which was fucking beautiful, because it’s like a
thousand miles directly north of San Antonio. Many years later, I’m celebrating
my freshly minted MBA with a drunken cruise in downtown Madison. It’s getting
late, we’re all desperately hungry, and Becca, a white blonde girl with a tight
ass and a talent for blow jobs, says she knows this late-night tapas joint. I’m
consuming a sangria and some dish having to do with lamb and paprika when this
old guy starts playing flamenco guitar, this old woman starts singing in
Spanish, and upon this tiny, much-abused stage appears the most gorgeous
assemblage of milk-chocolate parts that the world has ever seen. And her
dancing! I am absolutely no expert, but even as performed by <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">homely</i> women, flamenco is unbelievably
sexy. She came out afterwards to watch the other dancers, I left my table –
much to the chagrin of Becca – and bought her a drink. You’d expect some exotic
story, but she was a Madison girl, born and bred, one of the few old-money
black families you’re bound to find, had just received a bachelor’s in dance
from my very college. She took one of those semester-abroad things to Spain,
and came back absolutely obsessed with flamenco. At this point, she was working
on something pretty provocative, taking a basically improvisational art form
and applying it to an evening-long story based on a play by Federico Garcia
Lorca. Ruffled a lot of feathers in the flamenco community. As our conversation
deepened, this was the thought that formed in my mind: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">You have found someone better than anyone else you will ever find.</i>
And that open-mouthed laugh that seemed to embrace the world, those long,
graceful fingers that lit upon my arms like butterflies. I spent my summer
taking in these small aspects of her, and falling in love.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“A
couple of months later, my career took off so quickly that we had to make some
fast decisions. Another geographical irony, eleven hundred miles directly south
to work for Enron in Houston. For Ezzie, the move offered some appealing
enticements, notably a much stronger Hispanic culture that offered many more
venues for her work. She also knew that flamenco didn’t offer the kind of
steady income that was at least <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">possible</i>
in ballet or musical theater, so maybe having a newly rich boyfriend wouldn’t
be so bad. Or, a year later, a rich fiancé. Or, a year later, a rich husband.
Five years later, she was pregnant with Sanja, and ditched the whole thing for
motherhood. Then came Nikola, then came the scandal, then came California.
Nowadays, she figures when the kids are off to school, she can start back in to
flamenco, and someday she wants to start her own troupe. Unless.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>That
last word says a lot, along with Thompson’s gaze, his brown eyes reflecting the
orange coals of the fire. He hasn’t really said much about the kids, but
perhaps the guilt there is too great, even for a bulletproof man. Jack offers
him another out.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“So,
is it all right if I wait till tomorrow to move out? I’ve got a bit of loading
up to...”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“No,”
says Thompson. “You like the place, right? I mean, it’s been good for you,
right?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Well…
sure.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Why
don’t you stay? In fact, I’ll pay you to stay. Forty dollars a day, a little
walking-around money. And dude, don’t worry – I won’t be crying on your
shoulder. I’m going back to work on Monday, and I’m sure it’s gonna be hella
busy. But… it would be nice to have someone else around the house. It’s
awfully… big.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
doesn’t know what to say, but just then a meteorite etches the sky with a long
green streak.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Holy
shit! Did you see that?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
think I did,” says Thompson. “And I wished on it, too.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“What
did you wish for?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Can’t
tell you. Ruins the wish.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
thinks about it. Why the hell not? Whatever’s in the air around Big Brown has
been good for him. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Respond to things in a
real fashion</i>, said Ben.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You
got it.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Fuckin’
ay,” says Thompson. “See? God even sends meteorites just so Thompson Flores
gets his wishes.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
laughs. “You <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">are</i> a cocky
son-of-a-bitch.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“And
the more you insult me,” says Thompson, “the better I feel.”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><br clear="all" style="page-break-before: always;" />
</span>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">M</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Apologetic Syllables</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Thompson keeps his word, almost too
well. He is a ghost in his own house, disappearing before dawn, not returning
till after midnight. Jack knows this pattern well: overwork as a distraction.
And a procrastination. Because work is eternally noble, that tireless pursuit
that one undertakes because the world demands it, because one must pay one’s
bills, because the children require food and health care and IPods. That’s why
it makes such a solid rationale when you’d <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really</i>
like to avoid an unpleasant task, like facing the wife you have just betrayed,
like beginning the painful process of retracking four lives that have just been
derailed.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>On
the more selfish side, Jack is glad for the freedom to behave just as he had as
a house-sitter: to lollygag, to walk along the waves, skipping rocks; and to
let his brain ramble like a leashless terrier over the second half of his life.
That’s how he thinks of it. This is intermission. His life as an accountant is
now over, and his task is to pick a new identity for Act Two. He gives Ben the
credit for leading him to this idea, because it is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not</i> an idea he could have had two months ago.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Meanwhile,
Jack has yet another date with the thrift stores, because Ben has instructed
him to assemble his own tuxedo. In his Internet searches, he discovers that the
tuxedo, like Jack, is in a period of flux. For a while, people were entirely
forgoing the classic bowtie, opting for an unadorned collar buttoned to the
top. (He recalls David Letterman picking out Tom Hanks at the Oscars and
saying, “You couldn’t wear a tie?”) The new trend is a standard necktie, worn
with a standard collar, but tucked into a matching vest. Jack suspects that
this will play right into his strategy.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He
begins by rifling the racks of suit jackets at three different thrift stores.
He has nearly lost the thrill of the hunt when he strikes gold: a classic tux
jacket with single-breasted notched satin lapels. The lining bears a tag from a
rental shop, just over the likely reason for its exile: a large white stain,
anathema to prom dudes and bridegrooms but no care for Jack. The cost is an
entire 15 bucks. The jacket is a little tight in the shoulders, but for 15
samoleans Jack will just have to deal.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>From
there it’s on to retail. Jack locates a discount men’s store where he finds a
snow white vest with a fetching crosshatch pattern. The box also contains a
matching bowtie and the trendy midget necktie, pre-knotted, with a clasp for
easy hookup. At an adjacent department store he finds a snazzy pair of Italian
dress pants. In the area of shirtness, he makes his play for rebellion. He
purchases a black dress shirt, hoping to shake up the salt-and-pepper in a
spicy fashion.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Ben
arrives at Big Brown in a classic tux, underpinned by a low-cut silver and blue
vest with matching bowtie. The surprise is a gray felt fedora, with a hatband
made from the same fabric as the vest, and a plume fashioned from the last six
inches of an ostrich feather. As they head off, Ben offers an encouraging
critique of Jack’s class project.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Somewhere
beneath that nerdish exterior lies an artist. You have rejected the norm and
gone for your own unique melange. I am mightily impressed. So what’s your
analysis of my creation?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Hmm,”
says Jack, pretending great deliberation. “Classy and retro. The conservatism
surprises me, but the little touches – especially the peacock feather – are
very nicely done.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Excellent!
Just what I was going for.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Ben
is clearly in a good mood, but it’s different than his usual. The trip over the
Santa Cruz Mountains is a quiet ride, and his mind seems fully occupied. They
pull into the clean metal-and-glass skyscrapers of downtown San Jose, each
building sporting a red corporate logo, like a handkerchief in its top-floor
pocket. Many of the names are vendors that Jack used to see on his quarterly
reports.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Ben
works his way to a parking garage and circles all the way to the top. Jack gets
the strategy right away: why hunt around for a space when there’s an elevator
anyway? It also affords another cool view: the white webs of the federal
building across the street, the new Hilton rising like a stalk next to the
convention center, the stout, regal Fairmont standing sentry over the green
oval of Cesar Chavez Park. They leave the elevator at street level and walk
north along the light rail tracks, crossing at the cobalt cube of the San Jose
Rep and entering a Thai restaurant. The walls are covered in bamboo screens and
tropical-looking art. The hostess leads them to a table in the corner, which is
already occupied by a dark-haired woman in a black pantsuit. She spots Ben and
flashes a broad smile.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Hi!
I’ll have you know, I’ve been waiting an entire three minutes. You owe me,
buddy.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Ben
kisses her on the cheek and sits. “What say I buy you dinner?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh!
Big spender.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“This
is the aforementioned Jack. He’s a virgin.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Hi,”
says Jack. He takes her hand for a moment and sits down. “I think he means
opera virgin.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
should hope so! I’m Barbie.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Barbie’s
with the opera.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yes!”
she says. “And tonight will be a perfect beginner for you, like an appetizer
plate. Some mozzarella sticks, some oysters, a veggie platter. Ha!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Barbie
talks with the energy of a New Yorker, her words gathering force and speed
until she has to release the pressure with a puppy-dog yelp of a laugh. She has
a round face, a broad nose, and dark eyes that squint when Ben makes her laugh,
which is often.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Ben
recommends the mango fish and pad Thai; being no fool, Jack goes with precisely
that. Ben’s also pushing the Thai iced coffee.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“This
being opera, I want your nerve endings wide open,” he says. “So Barbie, they’re
not going to miss you at the dinner?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh!
I just can’t do these things. Too much small talk, and Lord knows I don’t need
the calories.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Ben
laughs. “Barbie and I are tennis partners. It’s my job to run her utterly
ragged, so she can maintain the integrity of her wardrobe.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“He’s
a slavedriver! I can’t even remember the last time I won a game. Ha!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
takes a few sideways glances to figure Barbie’s figure. She’s large-breasted,
which sometimes creates the illusion of fat-ness, but her stomach and hips seem
to be what you would call “well-trained.” She is, indeed, a big-boned gal. When
she places a hand on his, he thinks he’s been caught.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“It’s
so nice to meet a fresh recruit, Jack. But I’ve really got to go. Post-opera,
Mister Ben?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“The
Wailing Wall?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Ha!
I’ll be there. Bye, boys.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She
walks away, looking a little rushed and nervous. Jack settles down to his pad
Thai. The peanut sauce connects with all the right taste buds.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Barbie’s
on the production staff,” says Ben. “I knew she couldn’t stay – that’s why I
offered to buy her dinner. Ha! But she’s so busy I have to grab some face-time
whenever I’m able. Hope you don’t mind.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“No,
no. God, I love this stuff.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Had
the feeling you would.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>They’re
far ahead of schedule, so they dawdle over dessert – sticky rice with yet more
mango – as Jack updates Ben on Thompson’s pending tragedies.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Egad.
He has <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really</i> dug himself a pit,
hasn’t he? Well, if it gets you a little more beach-time, what the hell.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
must admit, that was my exact thought.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>By
the time they finish, the air outside has taken on both cold and moisture,
draping halos over the streetlights. They navigate the circle of palms outside
the art museum and pass the Fairmont to find a parade of elders heading down
Market in formal wear.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Like
a geriatric senior prom,” Ben chuckles. “The gala dinner is at the Fairmont,
and then they hike to the California Theater for the performance. I call it the
March of the Penguins.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“That’s
good!” says Jack. “You are a witty devil, young man.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Young
man!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
is thankful for the crowd. The tux is still a new idea for him, and he feels
like a wolf who has found his pack. They cross to First Street, round the
corner at Original Joe’s restaurant, and wind up outside the California, at the
northern tip of the nightclub district. Jack has seen the impressive vertical
sign dozens of times, the letters spelled out in white bulbs, but has never
given the interior much thought.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>And
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">what</i> an interior. The entrance hall
is high and mighty, bathed in golds and reds – a broad Persian rug underneath,
a high ceiling ribbed with beams of Oxford brown, long chandeliers emanating
Italian light. A crowd gathers around a man playing a large organ. It sounds
like a carousel. Someone in the crowd shouts “All skate!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“The
California is an old film palace, built in 1927,” says Ben.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“That’s why they have the Wurlitzer here.
This place sat fallow for decades, until the city and David Packard, the
computer heir, decided to return it to its original grandeur. And <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">this</i>,” he gestures toward the hall, “is
just the beginning.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>They
climb the broad staircase to find a mob of socialites in the upstairs reception
area, sipping champagne and chatting up what seems like an actual storm. Ben
stops to study the crowd, launching into lesson mode.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“In
understanding your cause, Jack, I realize that I have spent a lot of time on
the rastafarian/bohemian/beatnik side of the equation, and I didn’t want you to
think that there weren’t similar delights to be plucked from the land of the
hoity-toit. There are, of course, many people who are here mainly to be seen.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“And
to have their cleavage seen,” says Jack.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Yes! But I would bet that even the
sixty-year-olds with the teenage breasts have a sincere affection for this
artform, because there is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">passion</i> in
opera, and violence, and good old-fashioned smut! Not to mention
heartbreakingly beautiful music. Be forewarned, however. Do not listen too
intently; don’t get intellectual about it. Just soak it in. I think you’ll like
it.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>They
head downstairs to a side entrance. The theater’s interior is so stunning that
Jack can’t quite maintain his balance. He decides to keep his eyes on his
shoetops until they are safely seated. Once there, he lifts his gaze to the
ceiling and finds one half of an African sun, rays of gold, orange and brown
slithering toward the stage like desert snakes. The proscenium arch is outlined
with Hellenic figures in gold plate. The ceiling over the balcony is covered
with rough geometrics, painted in Western shades of green, brown, rusty red.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“This
theater is…”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yes
it is,” says Ben. “Seventy million dollars’ worth. And wait till you hear the
acoustics.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
glances at his program, filled with foreign words. He expects to be entirely
lost.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
expect you might feel a little lost,” says Ben. “Now, just to be clear, if you
were at an actual <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">opera</i>, they have
translations above the stage – supertitles – so there’s no reason you can’t
follow the story. With a recital, however, you are sadly out of luck.
Fortunately, you are seated next to a genius.” He pulls a small notepad from
his breast pocket. “I brought this with me, and I will sketch a few notes as we
go along. You will find a handy floor light next to your seat.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh.
Okay.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
audience starts applauding, for no apparent reason, but then the conductor, a
white-haired man with finely rimmed glasses, pokes his head over the railing of
the orchestra pit. Two tall men walk to center stage, both wearing dark suits,
and the conductor starts the unseen orchestra into a slow, sweeping intro. To
Jack, it sounds like a sunrise. The black man, looking a bit like the pop star
Prince, sings in a high voice to the other man, who has an olive complexion and
curly hair, and responds in a lower voice. It seems as if they are telling
stories to each other. Ben hands him a note: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">They’re talking about a hot chick.</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
next performer is a slender Indian woman in a gown of burnt orange, singing
from an opera called <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">La Traviata</i>. She
begins with a stunning fusillade of notes that rankles Jack’s ears – he’s not
used to such high, piercing sounds. Then she stops suddenly, and goes into a
dreamy, waltz-like ballad. Ben’s note reads, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">She’s hot for a guy, but doesn’t want to give up her independence.</i>
Jack thinks immediately of Audrey.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
next piece is from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Il Trovatore</i>
(which sort of sounds like “troubador”) and features a chorus of two dozen
singers. The men are in tuxes, the women in various ensembles of black. Two of
the men push carts onstage holding anvils. This seems very odd, until the
refrain arrives and the men pound on the anvils with hammers. Jack recalls the
tune from a TV commercial; the familiarity gives him a small thrill, an island
upon which his hard-working senses can rest.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>At
the end of the anvil song, a slender woman in a spangled white dress comes out
to sing to the chorus. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What’s with all
the skinny women?</i> he thinks. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Aren’t
opera singers supposed to be fat?</i> The woman has dark, angular features and
an Italian-looking nose with a slight hook, giving her the appearance of a sexy
witch. Next to the white chocolate of the Indian woman’s voice, hers is a dark
mocha, and she seems to be telling them a story filled with foreboding. Ben
finally scrawls a note and passes it Jack’s way: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Downtrodden rebels led by a charismatic witch. And yes, you’ve heard
the Anvil Chorus before.</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It
goes on this way for an hour and a half, different people singing, Ben
summarizing the action. The music grows on Jack, and he begins to understand
some of the things that the singers are after. Many of their notes have little
lives all their own, growing and lessening like restless creatures. The best
singers fashion their songs into conversations, as if they are simply talking
in music and this is a perfectly normal way to behave.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Soon
they are down to the final piece. A man and a woman enter the stage; the man
carries a chair, which he places at a spot that seems to be preordained. The
man has a medium-sized torso and legs, but his chest is quite broad; he has
thick, slightly wild brown hair, and the kind of neatly trimmed beard that
seems typical of opera singers. The woman is short and busty, dressed in a
blueblack sequined jacket and a long, dark skirt with a slit along one leg. She
has thick, dark hair arranged in a fanciful up-do, dark eyes, a broad nose.
When the man comes to take her hands she smiles, her eyes squinting
pleasurably. He gestures toward the chair; she sits to listen to him.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
man’s voice – what they must call “tenor” – has a bright resonance that stands
out from the others. With a gun to his head, Jack would say that it has a
“ping,” an electric quality that slices through the air. He reaches the crest
of the song, a melody that rises and falls like an arch, holding his arms as if
he’s about to embrace someone. Ben passes Jack a note: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Trying to impress hot neighbor-chick with life story.</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He
ends with a grand flourish. After the applause, the woman rises to tell her own
life story. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">But of course</i>, thinks
Jack. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">This is every first date I’ve ever
had.</i> She is timid, unsure, but her emotions seem to take hold of her; as
her singing rises in force Jack notices something extraordinary about the
woman’s voice. It’s nearly radioactive. It doesn’t merely slice the air like
the man’s voice, it spins wildly, like those whirligig rockets that shoot away
from the center of pyrotechnic explosions. The woman shapes her phrases like
the other singers – lessening, growing, slipping away, returning from nowhere –
but she gives no indication of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">working</i>
at this, and somewhere through the Italian words, Jack understands her
completely. She is smitten with this new man, but also afraid – that he will
discover some dark, secret thing about her, that she will scare him away. As a
poker player would put it, her “tell” is her tremendous passion – it’s not
entirely appropriate to the moment. She seems to realize this herself; at the
end of the aria, she rambles into a string of small, apologetic syllables.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
audience responds with thunderous applause; several people down front stand
from their seats. The woman keeps her eyes on the tenor, staying in character. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">It must be very difficult</i>, thinks Jack, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">to take all that love without exploding into
ecstasy.</i> Finally, the orchestra starts back up, and the man sings a swaying
melody, the tone of which is something like, “What are you worried about?
Everything will be fine!” (Oh yeah, he’s in love.) The woman joins in, and then
they do an unusual thing: they link arms and walk offstage. Even after they’re
out of sight, they continue to sing, the woman rising to a high final note, the
man just beneath her. The notes go on and on, and when they finally cut off the
audience lets out a roar, punctuated by individual exclamations of “Ho!” and
“Woo!” A woman behind them yells “Brawvee!” which makes no sense at all. The
man and woman return onstage for their bows; after a moment, they’re joined by
the rest of the evening’s performers. The audience rises, section by section,
until they’re all on their feet.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
applause goes on for a long time. Jack finds his arms tiring out, and as he
lets them dangle for a moment he realizes that he has not yet received his note
from Ben. When he looks to his left, however, he finds Ben transfixed by the
scene, clapping wildly, tears streaming down his cheeks. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">This opera is strong medicine</i>, thinks Jack. He shakes his arms and
goes back to clapping.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>They
follow the crowd as it oozes from the theater, and Ben cuts left to the
restrooms – a welcome vision for Jack, who has watched 90 minutes of opera
directly following an enormous Thai iced coffee. Back in the hallway, Ben leads
him outside to a patio area covered in squares of blue-gray granite. Ben stops
to study a wall fountain, rivulets of water murmuring a tall rectangle of black
stone.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“That
last piece,” says Ben. </span><span lang="IT" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ansi-language: IT; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Puccini. La Boheme. The Garret
Scene. </span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Most astonishing stretch of melody in opera. Three ‘hit
songs,’ one after the other: ‘Che gelida manina,’ ‘What small, cold hands’; ‘Mi
chiamano Mimi,’ ‘I call myself Mimi’; ‘O soave fanciulla,’ ‘Sweet, beautiful
girl.’ The poor poet Rodolfo discovers a neighbor girl, Mimi, whose candle has
blown out. He tells her of his life. ‘I am a poet. How do I live? I live!’ She
tells him of her life as a seamstress, and all the sweet little things that
bring her joy: the rooftops of Paris, the first light of spring, rosebuds in a
vase. What she doesn’t mention is that she is dying of consumption, which is
why she pays such close attention to these small things. And then poof! Rodolfo
and Mimi are in love, and they run off to the Café Momus to join their friends.
Love happens very quickly in the opera. It’s partly a technical problem. It
takes much longer to sing words than to speak them, so everything must be
compressed. But still, it’s always a… surprise… when it comes.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Ben
is lost in the fountain, an unfocused stare attached to a non-functioning face.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Ben?
Is there… I mean, all evening, you’ve been… Ben, what the hell is wrong with
you?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Ben
snaps out of it, and laughs at Jack’s outburst.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I’m
not entirely certain, but I think I’m in love.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Now
it’s Jack’s turn to lose focus. This is nowhere close to the answer he
expected.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“How?
I mean… Really?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Ben
throws up his hands, helpless.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Her
name is Gina Scarletti. She lived next door to me, when we both had families.
Now her kids are all moved out, and her husband passed away a few years ago.
She’s a gorgeous, gorgeous woman – classic Italian, Sophia Loren with a Bronx
accent. All those years ago – I mean, you can imagine how dreamlike that part
of my life seems to me – Gina and I indulged in a playful, over-the-hedge
flirtation. Nothing unseemly, just a little break from our all-encompassing
marriages. After the fire, I lost track of her. I guess I didn’t really want
any reminders.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“So
there I am at the jam party, partaking of my hookah next to the fireplace. You
and Audrey were off fucking in the secret garden – and don’t deny it, I saw you
take her there. So I’m just sitting there people-watching, and the crowd in
front of me seems to part, and who should appear but Cleopatra, dressed as Gina
Scarletti. Or perhaps vice-versa. I have never seen anyone so beautiful in all
my life. We talked for hours. And get this: she lives two houses down from
Terra! I must have driven past her front porch a hundred times. She runs a
training center for horses – show-jumpers. You’ve probably seen all the little
fences and hedges. A New York Sophia Loren Cleopatra who rides jumping horses.
I have <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">got</i> to be making this up.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Hours,
hours later, we were out on the lawn and down to a single musician, a mandolin
player. Poor guy was half asleep, but somewhere in his dreams he was playing an
old country waltz. I took Gina’s hand, she curtsied, and we waltzed around the
lawn like we’d been doing it all our lives. She was so light in my hands, like
an armful of wind. The sky began to brighten, and our mandolin player leaned
against the porch and fell asleep, the instrument still in his hands. I looked
over Gina’s shoulder, saw a sliver of sun over the hilltop, and I kissed
Cleopatra. We walked to her house and fell asleep on the couch.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Ben
is eyeing the fountain again, as if it contains a high-def replay of the scene
he’s just described.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I’ve
seen her several times since and…” The tears creep in on Ben’s voice, forcing
him to push at his words. “I never <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">expected</i>
this, Jack!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He
sits on the ledge before the fountain and wipes at his eyes.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Big
goddamn baby,” he mutters.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
doesn’t know the proper response to tears of joy, so he sits next to Ben and
stares at his hands. A door opens, followed by the tapping of high heels on
granite. Jack looks up to find Mimi. Mimi! The woman with the radioactive
voice.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yaknow,
I warn you and warn you about the garret scene, but you never listen. Ya big
softie!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
woman leans down to kiss Ben on both cheeks. Her hair is spangled with glitter.
She turns to reveal banners of blue eye-shadow. Stage makeup. A little bit
scary.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“He
could never handle Puccini. That Giacomo could take a Scandinavian fisherman
and make him weep like a menopausal mother-of-the-bride. Ha!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
freezes. What kind of funhouse has he been thrust into?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“That
was… you?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Barbie’s
the best,” says Ben. “Best goddamn singer I’ve ever heard. And <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you</i> didn’t even know it was her, did
you?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span><span lang="IT" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ansi-language: IT; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I… No.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span lang="IT" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ansi-language: IT; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Ha!” says Barbie. </span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Our little
plan worked.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
scratches his head, feeling murky.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Ben
rises from the ledge and smacks Jack on the shoulder. “Never assume that
someone you meet under mundane circumstances might not be capable of
extraordinary things.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">tricked</i> me.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yes.
But we did <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not</i> lie. I simply asked
Barbie to be a little vague about her job description. All the assumptions were
yours.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
can’t help himself. He stands and gives Barbie a kiss on the cheek.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">You</i> were glorious.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Barbie
begins to blush. Given how many times she must have heard similar compliments,
this seems odd.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Also,”
says Jack, “Uncle Ben is in love.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“No!”
Barbie squeals. “You are? Really?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Stool
pigeon!” says Ben. “Rat fink!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Crybaby!”
says Jack.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
three of them sit before the Wailing Wall as Ben tells the story once more.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><br clear="all" style="page-break-before: always;" />
</span>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">N</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The Size of a Pencil</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 24.0pt;">He wakes up. Three devils watch him
from the opposite wall. He has grown accustomed to their morning sneers, their
wild hair and mascara’d eyes. Since Thompson’s return, Jack has been sleeping
in Nikola’s room, across from a poster of the punk group Green Day. How an
eight-year-old has developed this attachment is a mystery. But the bed is
incredibly comfortable (no doubt thoroughly researched by Esmerelda the
supermom), and Jack has never slept better.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He
is conscious, however, that he is sleeping among shadows. Nikola should be
here, hammering away on his Guitar Gods video game, ignoring his mother’s
commands to get ready for school. Whenever Jack considers these absences, he
develops a painless but bothersome pressure in his forehead that makes him
squint. He thinks of the pleasure-squint belonging to Barbie the opera singer,
and decides that this is something much different. He has become a human
barometer.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
stands in the shower, looking out over the beach. Sometime this month the false
exhibitionism stopped bothering him. In its place he found the shower’s central
idea: a chance to embrace the outside world even as one prepares to enter it.
He lathers the soap between his hands, raising it to his nose to take in the
aroma. He has developed a fixation for handmade soaps, this one a lemon verbena
purchased at a farmer’s market in Soquel.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
barometer begins to hone in on its target. An overheard answering-machine
message revealing that Esmerelda has hired a private tutor, determined to keep
the children in Madison through the holidays. And Thompson, despite his great
show of emotion at Sanderlings, has apparently done nothing about it. Jack
realizes that none of this should be his concern, but the forehead barometer
says otherwise. Arriving on the first floor, he is surprised to find Thompson
next to the whitewater, wrapping himself in a windbreaker, laptop case lolling
at his feet like an affectionate puppy.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Wow,”
says Jack. “You’re still here.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yeah.
Got a presentation at eleven, and it was easier to polish the spreadsheets at
home base. How you doin’? Is the bed and breakfast meeting your expectations?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Where
do I begin?” says Jack. He’s about to follow with laudatory details, but
Thompson will soon be out the door and the barometer needs feeding. “Hey, I
know work is pretty crazy, but have you had a chance to talk to Esmerelda?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Thompson
gives him a cold stare. “What’re you, my mamasita?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
begins to melt into an apologetic stance, but then Thompson busts out laughing.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Dude!
You are <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">such</i> an easy mark. Don’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ever</i> lose that gullibility, man. It’s
beautiful! See ya.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>And
he’s out the door, getting into his Carrera, repeating the word “mamasita” and
chuckling. Having successfully dodged the question. Jack feels like a sitcom
wife, left at the door without a goodbye kiss.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Despite the
squinting, these are good days. Ben is largely absent, spending his every free
minute with Sophia Loren de las Salinas. This has left a large space in Jack’s
days, but he finds himself embracing it, his mind simmering with a slow warmth.
His thoughts feel simultaneously slower to arrive and sharper when they get there.
It could be that he has become a shaman. As Barbie would say, Ha!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">After his
two standard two bagels and mango nectar, Jack fetches the pressure washer from
the garage and attends to his morning chore: turd removal. He wheels it onto
the deck, attaches the hose and cranks up the preposterously annoying engine.
He holds the wand until the hoses work out all their air bubbles and then takes
to the railings, where the seagulls love to congregate and shit. After that, he
runs the deck two planks at a time. He’s nearing a cutout in the house wall
when he realizes that he’s cornered a salamander, a yellow-gray critter, four
inches long, flicking his tail in great alarm. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">No wonder</i>, thinks Jack. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">This
has got to be like a class-five hurricane.</i> He sets down the spray wand and
picks him up. Being a salamander, he doesn’t put up much of a fight.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Sorry, little dude. We gotta find you a new
place.” He carries him to the edge of the deck and drops him onto a spread of
ice plant.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Come back
in half an hour.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">At noon, the
day turns fairly amazing. A bright late-fall sun breaks through the fog to pull
the temperature into the low seventies. Jack abandons shirt and shoes –
inordinately proud of the tan that he has developed – and walks toward the
cliffs of New Brighton. The waves have lain out an even spread of medium-sized
rocks, many of them in the shape of perfect skippable discs. What’s more, the
waters of Monterey Bay are remarkably quiet, smooth as a lake. After a couple
of warmup tosses, Jack winds up on a big yellow-brown stone, leans far over and
tosses a hard sidearm. The result is stunning, a dozen even skips that cover
the length of a football field. He’s pretty certain that he could not actually
throw a rock that far without the help of the water. He’s pondering the physics
of this thought when he spots a tiny square of paper flapping around on the
sand. It seems to be alive. He leans down to find a monarch butterfly,
struggling to work the wet sand from his wings. Jack imagines he’s been
ambushed by a breaker.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">He recalls
an urban myth about touching a butterfly’s wings – that this somehow disables
them – so he digs in from either side and carries the butterfly aloft on a
mound of sand. He walks uphill past the break line and sets the pile down, then
blows on the butterfly until he comes to rest in a scoop of warm, dry sand.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Dude! Be
patient. Let the sun do its work. You’ll be fine.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">His next
client lies a hundred feet away. A pack of pelicans are conducting bombing
raids on a spread of water; directly landward of this commotion, Jack finds a
strip of silver the size of a pencil, flopping on the sand. The anchovy looks
quite alarmed (although, of course, fish <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">always</i>
look alarmed), and Jack realizes he must act quickly. Out there, this one might
serve as an appetizer to a pelican, but out <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">here</i>
he dies for sure. Jack leans down to pick him up, then carries him toward the
water.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Dude! Try
to stay away from the big birds.” And he tosses him in.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Toward the
cliff’s edge, Jack finds another perfect stone. It skips twice, then rockets
off of a wave like Evel Knievel. At the base of the cliff he finds White
Horse’s latest creation, a thin seven-foot<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>column of rocks, and as he’s meditating on this he thinks, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Shaman? I’ve become St. Francis!</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">He finds a
rock and moves it around on the top of another rock, until he senses something,
like a bolt slipping into a latch. He lets go. The rock stays in place. The
barometer in Jack’s temple ticks forward. A bath of warm mango nectar floods
his frontal cortex.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Late that
night, Jack prepares for bed, the friendly devils of Green Day eyeing him
curiously.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jack hears the click of the
front door. He attempts a trick of telekinesis, drawing Thompson toward the
coffee table, where he has “accidentally” left out the case that holds a DVD of
Esmerelda’s performances. A minute later, he hears the familiar grind of guitar
strings, the stamping of feet.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack is so
thrilled at this new talent of his that he fears he won’t be able to sleep.
After twenty minutes, the music clicks off. He hears the beep-tones of a cell
phone, followed by Thompson’s voice, colored with anxiety.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Hello…
Ezzie?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Silence.
Too much silence.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I miss you
too.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The
barometer opens up. The squint retreats from Jack’s eyes. He bids the three
devils good night, and drifts away like a rescued anchovy.</span></div>
<span lang="IT" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ansi-language: IT; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><br clear="all" style="page-break-before: always;" />
</span>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="IT" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ansi-language: IT; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">O</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="IT" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ansi-language: IT; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Chinese Puzzle Box</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="IT" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ansi-language: IT; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Look. </span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">I realize I have no right to ask this, but could you…?
Could…? Shit! Would you take me on a romantic date?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Hi
Audrey.” Jack is feeling grateful for caller ID. “Any specifics on that?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“You don’t
know? I wanted you to just <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">know</i>.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack takes
a second to analyze this request, but his brain is not getting far.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Jack?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Look.
Audrey. I am <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">always</i> delighted to hear
from you, but you gotta admit, this is a little outside your usual behavior. So
rather than expecting me to read your mind, could you just… tell me what you
want?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Just <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">tell</i> you? Just like that? Just <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ask</i>
for what I want? That’s insane! Dinner, in a real restaurant. I’d like you to
dress up nice – no tie, no suit, just nice. And then, most of all, I’d really
love it if you would dance with me.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">That last
one seems highly unlikely. But Jack knows that he is never, ever going to say
no to Audrey LaBrea.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“So when
would you like to…”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Two
hours?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Really? I
mean… really?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Um… yes?”
Audrey’s voice sounds like the voice of someone who is chewing her fingernails.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Will you
have any respect for me if I admit that I, in fact, am doing nothing on a
Saturday night?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Will it
get me a date?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Yes.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I will
respect your brains out, honey.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Well
then!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“But until
I give the word, let’s pretend that I am a lady.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Of
course.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Ill-informed
about Monterey restaurants, Jack negotiates a rendezvous at the Sanderlings.
The drive down is foggy and chill, so he rules out any ideas of patio seating.
He’s waiting next to a gas fireplace outside the entrance, enjoying a salted
hot chocolate, when Audrey makes her appearance, wearing a long purple coat
with a fake fur collar that frames her face in the manner of a czarina. Jack
greets her with a half-dozen white roses. Audrey responds with a smile she’s
been saving since high school.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“The lady
requested romance?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Yes. But I
didn’t expect the gentleman to go for extra credit.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Get used
to it, honey.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">He kisses
her and takes her inside, where they’re seated across from the fishtank. The
orange clownfish seem like old friends.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Red or
white?” he asks.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Audrey
sniffs at her roses. “Unless I miss my guess, they’re white.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“The wine.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Oh! How
about red? I want to feel toasty.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Audrey
removes her coat to reveal a little black dress, with the emphasis on “little.”
Jack finds the oxygen getting a little thin. When the waiter arrives – a
Japanese man named Jun – Jack orders a Stag’s Leap cabernet.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Very
good!” says Jun. “I’ll be right back.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“You know
wine, too?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I am
entirely faking it, honey. But Thompson has a lot of Stag’s Leap around the
house, and it seems to be good stuff.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Okay,”
says Audrey, laughing. “I’ll stop peeking behind the curtain.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Thank you.
And speaking of peeking, that dress… Well, if I was gay, I’d say it was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fab</i>ulous!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“If you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">are</i> gay, you’ve been doing a tremendous
job of faking it.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“During
sex, I just imagine that you’re Ben Affleck.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Audrey
laughs for a long, long time. It almost seems like she’s using it for therapy.
The barometer ticks on.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“So how did
you find this place? It’s lovely.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Had a
meeting here with a heartstricken friend.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“My
compliments. I love the ultrasuede shirt, by the way. It goes so well with your
eyes! Oh Jack, I don’t know if I tell you enough, but… I know I’m undependable,
but I like you so much that I don’t want to see you too much, because I’ve seen
the terrible things that familiarity does to people. Isn’t that awful?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">More puzzle
pieces. But he has his instructions, and psychoanalysis is anything but
romantic. He sees the word <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">swordfish</i>
and decides that he would like to eat exactly that.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">He hadn’t
really investigated the dancing part, but it turns up right on schedule,
nonetheless, adding to the growing veneer of his romantic competence. A
three-piece jazz combo kicks up in the lounge, not thirty feet from their
table, and Jack notices Audrey’s attentions drifting that way all during
dessert. After signing the credit slip (feeling grateful for the per-diems he’s
been getting from Thompson), he stands and says, “Would the lady care to dance?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“The lady
would,” says Audrey, and they stroll to the lounge, a tasteful cubbyhole of
blonde woods and pastel paintings of tropical birds. Audrey deposits her purse
at a table and proceeds to a broad square of hardwood next to the piano.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack doesn’t
know much of dancing. He went to a few dances in high school, and did manage to
find the occasional female to join him in the sea of couples. But they never
did anything terribly creative. It was largely an excuse to wrap your arms
around a member of the opposite sex, to feel their breathing, smell their hair,
touch their limbs, and to sway in a nondescript clockwise drift, careful not to
bump into the other couples. A few of his schoolmates – largely the music geeks
and cheerleaders – were into the retro swing craze then sweeping the teen
population. Their kicks and whirls seemed to Jack like a foreign language, and
he envied their grace and rhythm.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">With
Audrey, doing not much is really not a bad alternative. He’ll stand there and
stare at her if she wants him to. But he suspects she’ll want more. He does
know enough to at least strike the right posture: left hand holding hers, right
hand resting on her waist. He has never actually done this before, but he’s
pretty sure he saw it in a movie. It does make a certain sense – it gives him
the feeling of steering them forward, like a small ship. Predictably, things
with Audrey are never going to be that simple.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Will you
spin me?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I’m not
sure I know how.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“First,
lift my hand to about six inches higher than my head. Then, draw it forward,
away from us, and follow my spin. You might also give a little push on my waist
to give me a little momentum. One, two, now!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack feels
more like follower than leader, but the trick seems to work. Audrey completes
the spin and returns, his right hand settles back on her waist. She smiles.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Good boy!
I think you might be trainable.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">After a few
more spins, she introduces a second move. They separate, facing each other, and
join hands. Jack pulls her into a spin to his right, holding his left hand over
her head, and pulls it back down to wrap her in his arms. After a pause, she
spins back out to the starting position.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">This is
when the barometer ticks forward and Jack begins to get ideas. Wrapping, then
unwrapping. Audrey is a Chinese puzzle box; it is Jack’s job to tie her into
knots, and then to undo those knots. On their next foray, they wind their
linked hands around each other’s necks, then release and run their hands along
each other’s arms, until their fingers catch together. The barometer recognizes
immediately that this has led them away from the starting position: he is
holding her right hand in his right hand. He solves this imbalance by pulling
her into a spin along his front, releasing his hand so he can receive her arrival
– left hand to right, right hand to left. Two times later, Audrey changes it
up. They repeat the neck-wrap, but they hold the position, walking a
half-circle, tango-like until he stops and she continues, walking around his
back, accepting his left hand with her right and returning again to the
starting position.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Each time
Jack accomplishes a move, he is greeted by a wider smile. The band keeps
playing, the blood moves quicker, and Jack begins to create. At the starting
position, he crosses hands with Audrey (enjoying her look of surprise) and
spins her around, creating a whirl of arms over her head like the spokes of an
umbrella. Then he steps to one side and walks her around, ending with an
accelerated spin that leaves Audrey breathless. Next, he places her right hand
behind her back, reaches around to take it with his right and unwinds her like
a top. Then he realizes that he can turn a spin into a double or a triple just
by speaking the number to his partner. Losing himself in the flurry, he begins to
do things that he can’t explain. In the midst of a spin, he passes her hand to
himself, behind his back. A little later, he decides that he should spin at the
same time that Audrey is spinning, and somehow the geometry works, contrasting
orbits that cancel each out.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">After that,
he begins to discover the nuances. His leads become more forceful, assured. He
reels her further out and brings her in faster, catching her waist and letting
the gravity carry her around. He begins to understand the position of his feet,
squaring them to the task. He learns to savor the time between spins, holding
Audrey closer, pressing the back of her hand to his chest, changing up the
pattern of his steps and feeling Audrey match them, as if she, too, has a
barometer. To smile, to laugh, to steal a kiss. As the band plays the final,
tinkling stretches of “I Left My Heart in San Francisco,” he tells her that she
must have faith, then braces his knee and lowers her into a dip that touches
her hair to the floor. Her expression is half panic, half ecstasy as he holds
her there a full three seconds.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Absolute
trust,” he says. She relaxes and smiles. He kisses her and pulls her back to
her feet, acknowledging the ache in his legs. They return to their neglected
table, where their Irish coffees have gone completely cold. Audrey refuses to
let go of his hand.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“How did
you do those things?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I had no
idea I could do <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">any</i> of that.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Give me a
tender, tender kiss.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Which he
does, their lips barely touching, then pressing together for a lovely second.
When he pulls away, she opens her eyes.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Now I want
you to come to Monterey with me.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">An hour
later, they are pushing into the familiar animal territories of intercourse
when she places a hand on his chest. “Slowly, gently. Not always, honey. Just
tonight.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">In the
morning, Jack comes downstairs to find a humble living room with cream-colored
carpets and walls of Tuscan orange. A pile of photography books, neatly fanned
out on a coffee table made from a slice of redwood burl. A wreath of seashells
over the fireplace. Pastel posters from art and wine festivals. And the best
thing of all, a fresh pot of coffee and a coal-black mug from the Monterey
Aquarium, holding down the corner of a neatly written letter.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Dearest handsomest Jack:</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">I want to thank you so much for last night. You are a
phenomenal man, and the way you learned to dance so quickly – unless you’re
taking secret lessons at Arthur Murray, I think it’s some kind of miracle.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">I must now admit, I was using you for a bit of
therapy. My rather colorful last name comes from Tiger LaBrea, my third husband
– the last man to court me before I lost my belief in romance. He was a
newspaper reporter in Las Vegas. Last week, I learned that he had been shot and
killed, apparently for a story he wrote on gambling-industry corruption. I was
devastated, and I suppose I wanted to revisit some of that romance. Tiger loved
to dance.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">I am amazed at your humanity, your warmth and
elegance, and I believe that once I come out from this cloud of grief, I will
have to acknowledge the idea that I am falling in love with you. Give me a call
in a few days, and this time the dinner’s on me.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Love—</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Audrey</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">PS I’m
running late. Could you feed the pigeons? (Gray container next to coop.)</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack reads the letter a
second time, then fills his coffee mug and carries it onto the small backyard
deck. Against the fence he finds what looks like a dresser with all the drawers
taken out, covered in chicken wire. A dozen stout-looking pigeons in various
combinations of blue stand stock-still in the foggy air. Jack finds a large
metal scoop in a covered wastebasket full of grain, fills it up and tips it
into a metal feeder hanging on the chicken wire. The grain spills into a
trough-like device inside the coop, and the pigeons scramble for position,
grunting and flapping. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ah</i>, thinks
Jack. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Now I am their god. Now they love
me as much as Audrey LaBrea.</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
word “love” strikes a membrane in his forehead and rings out like a drumhead,
sending a chill across his shoulders and down through his thumbs. He digs the
scoop back into the grain and presses the lid back into place.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><br clear="all" style="page-break-before: always;" />
</span>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">P</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">A Cleansing Galumph of Bloodrush</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">His next meeting with Ben comes on
a Sunday afternoon. A thick fog hangs over town, turning everything mystical
and Londonesque. Jack walks the front of the Safeway, hands stuffed into his
jacket, enjoying the smell of the Christmas trees still rolled up and bundled
on the walk. Then he hears the sound of jazz, which seems like a pleasant
enough idea, until he realizes that it’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">live</i>
jazz, and this means that he will have to listen to that corny singer again. In
a time when he has learned a certain positivity toward so many things, why does
he hold on to a petty hatred of this man’s singing? Or is it right to dislike
bad things? He makes a note to bring this up with Ben.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
steps inside just as Ray, the singer, starts in to butchering an old Cole
Porter song, “True to You in My Fashion.” The original is sharp, deft, witty.
Ray’s version is a piece of roadkill that has attached itself to the fender of
a Jeep and is now being dragged through the mud. And now (his thoughts growing
more bitter by the moment) Jack finds that Ben is nowhere to be found. He
orders an Indian Malabar from Cher, whose everbright smile makes valiant battle
against his oppression. The photos over the brew stations have been replaced by
children’s drawings. After he finds his cup under a turkey dressed as a
ballerina, Ray steps aside for a cornet solo by John, which immediately
improves the atmosphere. As Jack stirs the sugar into his brew, he spots an
older gentleman across the room, grinning at him broadly, wearing a blue plaid
shirt that seems familiar. When the man lifts a two-fingered salute, Jack
realizes that something may be up. He circumnavigates the bar to inspect.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Is
that… Is that Ben?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“It
is,” reports the familiar grumbling baritone. But the voice comes from a forest
that has been clear-cut.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You
shaved!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
did?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“What
for?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Best
reason of all,” says Ben. “Mah woman requested a clearer landing approach.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
sits down and stares. “Wow. You look twenty years younger.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Well!
There’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">another</i> benefit.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
don’t know if I like having a life coach with no facial hair.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Ha!
I may not be hirsute, but I remain astute.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You’ve
been sitting here rehearsing that.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yes.
So. How <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">is</i> my fellow young man?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Doing
pretty well. But tell me, should I feel bad for loathing Ray’s singing?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Ben
gives a glance to the far corner, where Ray has taken up a fresh assault,
rolling forth Cole’s notes with all the panache of a soiled gray carpet.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You
mean Ray, the middle school principal, who devotes his free time to Habitat for
Humanity?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh,
you’ve gone and ruined it for me now.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Doesn’t
change the fact that he’s a lousy singer,” says Ben. “And believe me, no one
with ears would disagree with you. But it does make it easier to take. You see
how that works? No one’s all good, no one’s all bad. And you can loathe Ray’s
singing all you want, as long as you’re not cruel enough to tell him to his
face. I mean, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">look</i> at him.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Ray
ends the last phrase and the corners of his mouth lift into a beatific grin.
Jack takes a swallow from his Malabar, thinking about a plethora of things he
might discuss with Ben, but finds that his friend is lost in the guitar intro
to “Stardust,” stroking his chin as if he still had a beard.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
was thinking about proposing to Gina.” Ben smiles and turns to take in Jack’s
response. Jack is fairly certain that he looks stunned.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Really?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yes.
Really. So what do <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you</i> think?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You
want… my opinion?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yes.
Everyone gets a vote. Am I being a foolish old man?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Even
minus the beard, Jack finds this position intimidating, so he decides that he
needs a time-out. “Excuse me,” he says, and goes near the band – where Ray is
preparing to do awful things to Hoagy Carmichael – to fetch a cup of water. But
it’s ice water, and he drinks it too fast, and it gives him a small case of
brain-freeze. When it clears, Jack realizes that this is precisely where he
will find his answer. The barometer. He lets his eyes fuzz out to an empty
focus, and allows his thoughts to swim around like clown fish in his frontal
lobe. Halfway back to the table, he feels the words approaching his mouth.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
don’t know much about how love… operates,” he says, sitting down. “All I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really</i> know is, I don’t think that there
are any iron-clad rules to the phenomenology. It is perfectly reasonable for
someone to go thirty years with no romantic connection whatsoever, and then to
reunite with someone and propose to her within a month. And I would <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">never</i> think of you as a foolish old
man.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Ben
offers a look of admiration and surprise. “Perhaps today, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I</i> should be paying <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you</i>.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
laughs. “So what’s the count on this little poll of yours?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“One
for, none against,” says Ben. “You’re the only one I’ve asked.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>And
this, for Jack, is an astounding piece of information.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
is about to enter Big Brown when he hears a voice from the heavens.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Jack!
Dude!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He
looks up to find Thompson’s head and shoulders edging over the railing. He is
shirtless, and a stream of smoke is trailing from the top of his head.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yeah!?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Come
on up! Oh, and bring a couple of beers!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Um…
okay!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
makes the convoluted trek to the rooftop (thinking <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">elevator, elevator</i>) and finds Thompson in the hot tub, smoking a
cigar the size of a small zeppelin. The tip has developed an ash two inches
long, but Thompson is too happy to notice.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“My
man!” He takes one of the beers and gives it a long pull.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Ah!
Thanks, man. Hey, remember when you left that DVD of Esmerelda in the player
last week?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh.
Sorry. After all the stories, I got curious.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“No!
No problem. In fact, the opposite: it inspired me to get off my ass and give
her a call. We’ve been talking every day since, and get this – I’m going to
Madison for Christmas! I’m gonna see my kids!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Thompson!
That’s fantastic!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“It
certainly is.” Thompson settles back in the water and savors a drag from his
cigar. The ash is now three inches and teetering. He points it at Jack. “Hey!
You know what? Let’s go celebrate. Let me take you to Capitola for some
seafood.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Sure.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Ready
in an hour?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yeah.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Fan-tastic,”
says Thompson. He turns to retrieve his beer, and the enormous ash falls into
the water. Jack thinks of mentioning it, but then, that’s what filtration
systems are for.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
cannot help replaying the old thought: hanging out with the cool kid, rolling
into Capitola Village in Thompson’s Porsche. There were several years during
which Jack could have purchased a similar car, but he never believed he could
carry it off. A biker with an enormous Fu Manchu backs out of his space just in
time for Thompson to roll on in. There’s a full hour left on the meter, plenty
to get them to the 8 p.m. cutoff. And this, thinks Jack, is what it’s like to
be Thompson Flores. He leads them into a restaurant with moss-green walls and
Italian menus printed in cursive. Jack gets chicken breasts stuffed with chunks
of portobello mushroom. Thompson orders grappa for both of them, and Jack downs
three glasses with dinner. By the time they’re finished with the spumoni,
Jack’s feeling a little light-headed. Heading outside, he gives Thompson a
punch on the shoulder, very boy-like, and Thompson punches him back. Jack
notices all the good-looking women on the street, most of them checking out
Thompson, but two or three saving their looks for the clean-cut sidekick.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>They
venture next door to the Fog Bank, a saloon covered floor-to-ceiling in
well-worn varnished wood. A band wanders over to their instruments, and soon
the air is filling with edgy blues, the kind associated with extremely hip
black people, the city of Chicago, summertime barbecues and trips across the
country on a Harley-Davidson. Thompson gets a pitcher of beer and tips his mug
in Jack’s direction.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“To
my sexy flamenco-goddess wife.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Hear
hear.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Thompson
downs his beer in three swallows and fills it back up. “Goin’ to Madison! Goin’
to see my babies!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Awesome!”
says Jack. He realizes he’s getting drunk now, and losing vocabulary.
“Awesome!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yes!”
Thompson takes another long drink, then folds his arms and studies the floor,
which has filled with dancers.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Man!
Lots of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">talent</i> in this bar.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Talent?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Har!
The Boy Scout, he does not know his urban lingo. That’s the word we dawgy dawgs
use to describe comely females: ‘talent.’”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
scans the bar and catches several appealing fragments: halter-top cleavage,
curve of shaking ass, slice of breathless smile. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Men feed on these portions all their lives and are never sated</i>,
says his brain, sounding strangely like a Chinese philosopher. And this is what
comes from his mouth:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Dude!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Allow
me to pour you another beer,” says Thompson.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“But
I haven’t finished this one.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“So
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">finish</i> that one. Keep up!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
– who will later realize he’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">got</i> to
kick this habit of following orders – downs the final half in a chug. The
carbonation rises into his nose, making him laugh. When he recovers, another
full mug has made its way into his hand.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Hey
Jack. I feel like dancing.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Sorry.
I only know how to lead.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Thompson
breaks up laughing, exactly like a drunk guy.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">You</i> are a card. How about those two over
there? By the wait station. Curvy, curvy blonde – that one’s mine. And the
slender brunette in the cowgirl hat? That’s yours.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“You mean you’re just going to go
up and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">talk</i> to them?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“That’s
usually the best approach.” He crosses the floor in three big strides, teeth to
the front. At his first word, both girls smile. The back of Thompson’s head
bobs slightly, in the manner of a car dealer giving a pitch, and then he’s off
with the blonde, bumping parts and laughing. She gives off a milk-fed radiance:
bright blue eyes, grippable seal-like geometrics. The brunette places her hat
on the bar and walks his way with a devilish smile. She’s got a light
complexion, dark eyes and long, straight hair – a taste of Shania Twain.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Hi.
I’m Bobbie. You’re Jack. Your pal says you could use a dance.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
would disagree except that he doesn’t. He follows Bobbie into the crowd and
soon they’re twisting and shaking to a jump tune, lost between the guitarist’s
sharp edges and the singer’s hallelujah shouts. A couple of minutes later, the
drummer rallies them into a tornado of sound and brings it down with a
breakfast-cereal crunch. Bobbie gives Jack a well-exercised smile and brushes
her hair back. The drummer counts into a slow, crawly blues.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Do
ya slow dance, Jackie?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Do
I!” He takes Bobbie’s right hand with his – like they’re shaking on a deal –
and pulls her into a spin. He realizes this is a move he’s never done before.
To Bobbie’s great credit, she follows easily, and comes back smiling.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Wow!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Great teeth</i>, thinks Jack.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
hope you don’t mind being thrown around a little.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Bobbie
lets out a happy growl.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh,
you’re in for it now,” says Jack, and takes her into a double spin.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It
hardly seems possible, but an hour later they’re still at it. Jack’s limbs feel
so loose they’re about to fly off, and he and Bobbie are sweating up a mutual
storm. They’re dancing close as the band winds up a slow, slow ballad. Jack
holds Bobbie’s waist, reading the movements of toes, feet, legs, pelvis through
the fibers under his fingertips. The band cuts off, leaving the singer to a
single ghostly line, and then they announce a break.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Shew!”
says Bobbie. “Let’s get some air.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Sounds
good,” says Jack. He fans himself with a hand to illustrate.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>They
take a small back door onto a balcony overlooking the lagoon. A pack of ducks
and gulls float in their direction, hopeful for handouts.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh!
The air feels so good. I haven’t danced like that in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">years</i>. You’re an excellent lead, Jack. Do you take classes?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Um…
a couple.” He has a fleeting thought of his red-headed teacher – but his
thoughts are soon re-focused on the pair of lips pressing against his own,
which feels quite pleasant. Bobbie backs off suddenly and covers her mouth, as
if she’s concealing Exhibit A.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh,
Jesus. I’m so sorry!” After she recovers her bearings, she sets her elbows on
the railing and fixes a sad gaze on the Venetian-style cottages across the
beach. “It’s so true – all the good ones are taken.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Does she know about Audrey?</i> “I’m…
sorry?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh,
no, it was all me.” says Bobbie. “No need to apologize.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He’s
deciding whether to say that he <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wasn’t</i>
apologizing when Bobbie places a hand on either of his pectorals.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Your
fiancée is such a lucky girl.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I’m
sorry?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Now
come on, Jack. Don’t ruin my impression of you. You’ve really got to behave now
or…”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She
turns to re-establish some distance but catches her heel on a plank and
stumbles forward. Jack catches her and they’re kissing again, this time much
more operatically. Then Bobbie is off and talking again.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
am <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so</i> sorry, oh shit I am drunk and
I’m being a bad, bad girl. Look, I better leave. Thanks, Jack. Thank you, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">thank</i> you for the dancing, and you, um,
give me a call if you get divorced someday. Not that I want that! Bye, honey.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She
gives him a kiss on the cheek, slips through the doorway and is quickly
swallowed by the crowd. Jack stands with his back to the railing, stupefied,
entranced by the full moon over the roof. Three minutes later, a whiff of cigarette
smoke drifts over from the next balcony and Jack finally gets the idea.
Thompson got Bobbie to dance with him by telling her that this was his last
night out before his wedding. He’d like to be pissed off, but the ruse is so
beautiful he starts laughing instead, like a crazy man, scaring away all the
ducks and gulls.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He’s
still chuckling when he re-enters the bar. He looks for Bobbie, and is not
entirely surprised<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>to find no sign of
her. What <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">is</i> surprising is the
complete lack of Thompson, or the curvy blonde. The only thing left is the
cowgirl hat, a chocolate-brown number with a braided black band, sitting atop
the bar like an abandoned pet. Jack considers the ethics of the situation, then
takes the hat by its brim and heads outside. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ransom.</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
unkindest absence of all comes from the Porsche, which means that Jack is
walking home. He places the cowgirl hat atop his head. It’s a little small, but
he tries to balance it as he tracks the long uphill out of the village.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>At
New Brighton Beach, he cuts across the railroad tracks to the parking lot, and
is about to descend the stairs when he’s greeted by an old malady: a form of
cardiac arrhythmia that locks his heart into an accelerated beat. The only
remedy is to take a seat and wait it out. Coated silver by the moon, he sniffs
the hat, which is too new to have much <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Bobbie</i>
to it, and has the usual, terrible thought: what if his heart never slows down?
What if he dies right here? But the thought has lost its edge from overuse, and
it’s no surprise when his heart delivers a cleansing <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">galumph</i> of bloodrush and kicks back down to a normal rate. Soon
he’s off to the beach, slogging the wet sand as his Italian dinner sits on the
bottom of his stomach like a chunky piece of furniture. The sight of Big Brown
is quite a relief.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>As
he boards the deck, Jack catches a faint light seeping from the living room.
The barometer clicks on with a whirr, hindered only slightly by grappa and
beer, and tells Jack to slow down. He creeps up to a tiny gap in the vertical
blinds and peers in to find Thompson sitting on the great white couch, his head
flung back in pain.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Or…
not. Just above the coffee table, Jack finds the broad white moon of a female
ass, and a satellite of tousled blonde hair bobbing over Thompson’s lap like a
piston.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
finds the sight both titillating and amusing – his own private porno – but he
senses that he might feel differently in the morning. For the moment, he
decides that he should sneak through the side yard and take a nap in his car.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><br clear="all" style="page-break-before: always;" />
</span>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Q</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Clenching of Innards</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">He wakes at the first hint of
light. Someone has placed a set of encyclopedias on his stomach. He could be
wrong about this. When he opens the door and struggles to his feet, he realizes
it may be an inside job. He feels like he’s about to give birth to two large
bricks, or a typewriter. He waddles to the door and up to Nikola’s room to
sleep.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Or
not to sleep. He lies on his side and shifts around until he’s comfortable, but
a few minutes later the bricks congregate against his ribs. So he turns to the
other side, shifts again – and again the bricks. He pops an Ibuprofen, to no
effect. His stomach begins to produce ungodly sounds, like a hot spring at
Yellowstone. He pops two Rolaids, to no effect.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>A
couple of bleary, blurry hours later, the sun fires a dozen stripes through his
Venetian blinds, and he begins to shiver. Not the playful shivers that make
your mouth go huh-vuh-vuh. These are rabid creatures, coursing from toe to
shoulder in waves of ticcing fiber. He issues commands for this behavior to
stop, but the troops are in full rebellion, running back and forth like little
hyper insects.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>A
half hour later, a brief respite allows him a trip to the restroom. The world
is terrible, out of focus. He can barely stay standing long enough to finish
peeing. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fluids</i>, he thinks. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fluids</i>. He stumbles downstairs to the
fridge and finds the last half-carton of orange juice, takes heaping swallows
whenever the dreaded shivers leave the field, whenever the bricks force him
awake.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Minutes
later – or an hour – he has to pee again. This time the standing is more
difficult, and he realizes that he may have to throw up. This is not an
unwelcome idea. He recalls a case of food poisoning that cleared up directly
following a vigorous puke. He assumes the position, embraces the porcelain god,
feels the upsurging magma, the ab muscles in rebellion, the throat turned
inside out and… nothing. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">So these are the
dry heaves</i>, he thinks. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fucking
useless.</i> All the horrible loss of control, all the awful clenching of
innards, none of the results.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>After
a minute – or an hour – he levers himself to his feet, pees some more, and
staggers back to bed, where he is immediately beset by the biggest wave of
shivering yet. He fears it will never stop, and finds himself emitting
full-body groans, just like the ones you hear in movies from desperately ill
people. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">This is not just bad</i>, he
thinks. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">This is bad acting</i>. He knows
by now that this is a virus, stomach or intestinal. It is likely the sickest he
has ever been.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
shivering stops. The sweating begins. It pours off of him in sheets.
Uncomfortable as hell. He grabs a towel from the dresser, strips off and wipes
himself down. Three minutes later, he is newly soaked. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fluids. Fluids.</i> He drinks the orange juice dry. Opens the window,
lies naked on the bed. The breeze is cool, but has absolutely no effect. He
sweats. He makes calculations. He needs to be naked, but he also needs to leave
the door open. If he passes out, if this fever turns bad, if Thompson comes
home, he needs to be able to see his condition. Call the paramedics. He will <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not</i> be one of those tenants discovered
behind a locked door only after his carcass starts to smell.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>A
few minutes or hours later, he wakes to the sound of tearing plastic. A man
stands at his bedside, opening a small bottle, offering him a cup of liquid.
It’s strong, cherry with a touch of licorice. The man speaks the words
“saltines” and “orange juice.” Jack moans and shifts his bricks. The man
disappears.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>When
he wakes, the window is dark. He finds saltine crackers on the nightstand and
chews three of them down. He opens a carton of orange juice and drinks half of
it. It feels like liquid gold. It occurs to him that the sweating has stopped;
this thought carries the force of a biblical miracle. He tries to stand. His
legs ache terribly, as if he has been running laps up and down the beach. The
shivering. He drags himself to the window and closes it, pops an Ibuprofen to
some effect, then returns to bed and manages an hour of sleep before baby brick
1 and baby brick 2 wake him up again.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
spends the next day almost entirely in bed; he begins to sweat again, but
chases it off with the Nyquil. His muscles continue to ache from the previous
day’s shivering, so he pops an Ibuprofen. His stomach gurgles; he takes a
couple Rolaids. His nightstand is a pharmacy, a squad of medicinal soldiers
awaiting their assignments. At noon, he finally has a decent bowel movement,
and the bricks begin to fade.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
next morning – is it Wednesday? – he gathers enough energy to shower, and to
shave his three-day beard, to dress and to look something like a human being.
He spots the cold sores at the corner of his lip – <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fucking inevitable</i> – and drafts a tube of Blistex for his
nightstand. Then he heads downstairs and finds Thompson eating toast.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh…
hi.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Dude!
Good to see you up. I was worried about you. Stomach flu?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Um…
I think. Thanks for the Nyquil and… stuff.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“No
problem.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh,
and… was I…?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Butt
naked! Yes. Can’t blame you. You were burning up, bruddah. Nothing I haven’t
seen in a locker room.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I…
I…” He has talked too much now, and feels winded. “Better go… back to bed.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Hey
Jack. When you get back up, could you take a look at something?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Sure.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Cool.
I’ll leave it on the table. Now go to sleep, buddy.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yeah.
Will.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
turns and begins the Everest-like trek back up the stairs.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>When
he wakes back up, two hours later, he feels the energy again, and realizes that
he needs to get up and about. The bed is turning magnetic, and he needs to work
up some circulation. He takes another shower – feeling a little excessive about
it – and puts on some jeans and a sweatshirt. He’s about to leave the house
when he recalls Thompson’s request, fetches a manila envelope from the kitchen
table, then pitches it onto the passenger seat as he gets into his car.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>At
the coffeehouse, he feels like a Cro-Magnon trying to navigate modern English.
But he does manage to obtain a magic Peruvian and a can of mango nectar. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fluids.</i> He uses the nectar to down
another Ibuprofen, takes a sip of the Peruvian for a chaser and opens the clasp
on the manila envelope. He pulls out a sheaf of papers.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Numbers.
More than he’s seen in months. He takes another sip of coffee and smiles.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“It’s
a quarterly analysis. They’re way behind on everything. First they had to scour
all the books after that SEC fiasco, then they had to re-format the system to
fit the new procedures, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">then</i> they
had to accommodate Thompson’s so-called second honeymoon. Also – and this is my
favorite part – it turns out that yours truly was the lynchpin to the whole
department, and they just haven’t found a way to make up for my loss.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
punctuates this last point by firing a stone over the water. It spells a
perfect low arc, spinning like a flying saucer, touches lightly to the surface
and takes ten evenly portioned skips.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Amazing!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Isn’t
it though? Numbers! I am digitally, narcotically high.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“No!
I mean that throw.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh.
Thanks. Not exactly a talent that you can brag about. It gives away the fact
that I have <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">way</i> too much time on my
hands.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“But
what if you had all that time and you really <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sucked</i> at skipping stones?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Point
taken.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“The
quarterly is so far behind that they gave Thompson absolute discretion to
contract out the work. He doesn’t even have to tell them who’s doing it, since
the department has to double-check the work anyway.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Why
does everyone trust that guy?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
don’t know, but it’s nice for once to be the beneficiary.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
beach is veiled in low-lying clouds of gun-metal gray. Every few seconds a random
raindrop strikes his jacket. Jack spots another stone and picks it up, rubbing
the sand from its surface.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh,
um,” says Ben. “Any idea what time it is?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
digs his phone out of his shirt pocket and flips it open.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Well
for heaven’s sake.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“What?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Apparently,
I left this thing off all week.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He
turns it on. A swirl of red smoke gathers and dissipates, revealing the company
logo, and then it flashes to his main screen.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“One
thirty five.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh.
Thanks. I have an appointment at four. So let me ask this: Any sense that
Thompson is using this assignment to buy you off again?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
don’t… think so. What with the beach vacation and me screwing his mistress, I
think we’re pretty even. And to come up with something this complicated for a
buyoff – that would be like one of those wacky JFK theories.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Maybe,”
says Ben. “But maybe it just inspired him to lean in your direction. And to
take a chance by using an illicit source like yourself. No offense.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“None
taken.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“As
opposed to a more standard contracting firm.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Hmm.”
Jack slips the edge of the stone against his index finger, is about to let it
fly when the flat space between the breakers closes up. “Well. I also offer a
certain insider’s knowledge of the company. And of course, all of these procedures
are the ones I was pushing for.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He
stops to look at the rock. It’s a white quartz. A perfectly round, moon-shaped
white quartz.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Holy
shit.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“What?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“The
night I got sick. Thompson’s wife agreed to let him visit for Christmas, and we
went to Capitola to celebrate. The last time I saw him, he was dancing with
this blonde, and then when I got home, the blonde was giving him a blow job.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Holy
shit,” says Ben. “Wow.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>They
return to their strolling. Ben seems very intent on analyzing this latest development.
Jack wonders if Ben has a barometer.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“This
housemate of yours is… complicated.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You’re
being very generous. But there is a juicy paradox here. For a low-down dawg who
cheats on his wife, he can be surprisingly thoughtful. At the awful awful hell-point
of my illness, he apparently went out to the store, bought me some orange
juice, saltines and Nyquil and delivered it to my bedside. This despite the
fact that I was contagious, sweating like a pig and buck naked.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Ben
takes a few steps, shaking his head.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Wow.
Wow.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“So
I guess you’re right – at least part of this offer is driven by guilt.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yes.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
sees a trough smoothing out between the breakers and fires the white quartz. It
flies low to the surface, takes a thirty-foot skip over a wave and settles to a
stop in a little trail of dimples. Then he has a heart attack.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He
freezes, suspecting arrhythmia, but then he remembers the phone tucked away in
his shirt pocket. It’s vibrating. He digs it out, flips it open, and realizes
they’ve just come astride a gap in the cliffs, which has opened up his
reception. The vibrations continue, and the screen totes up the messages: 8, 9,
10…</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Holy
shit.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Ben
steps up to investigate. “Is it radioactive? Is it gonna blow?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“No.
But it’s up to sixteen, seventeen… Oh, I guess that’s… Whoops! Eighteen,
nineteen…”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Holy
shit. What is it all?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
have my suspicions. Tell you what. Why don’t we find a good resting spot, and I
will give you a recitation.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Ben
claps his hands together. “Splendid!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>A
few minutes later, they arrive at a set of wide steps next to the pier for the
Concrete Boat. Ben takes a seat halfway up.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh,”
says Jack. “Is this it?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
think it’s suitably theatrical.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
stands in the sand before the lowest step and flips open his phone.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Thank
you, thank you.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
wasn’t clapping.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“That’s
all right. I’d like to start with a work I have titled ‘Shitload of Text
Messages.’ It’s sort of a found poem.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
punches the first message:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Ah!
Audrey: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Howz trix, shweet shtuff? Like to
take me up on that dinner?</i>”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yes!
Woo-hoo!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Please!
Quiet in the hall. Audrey again: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Yo,
Bubba. Free food & u might get lucky. OK, u WILL get lucky.</i>”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yoo!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Silence!
Audrey: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Tiny red dress, lots of leg, lots
of cleavage, no panties.”</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Ow!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Horny
old man. Whoa. Brigit: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Hi. Long time no
c. Been busy. How u?</i> Audrey: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What up,
honey? UOK?</i> Brigit: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Testing? U there?</i>
Audrey: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Bebe! WTF! Pay attention to me.</i>
Brigit: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">RU OK?</i> Brigit: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Too weird 4U? I guess I understand. </i>Audrey:
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Jesus Jack! Where the hell RU? </i>Audrey:
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Well fuck u then.”</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Ha!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Audrey:
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I’m sorry. But I’m horny, dammit!</i>
Brigit: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I thought we could at least be
friends.</i> Verizon Wireless: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">New Tigers
Woods Golf, now avail…</i> Whoops. Audrey: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Will
suck yr cock like sucking ice cream through a straw.</i>”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yes!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Brigit:
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Bloody hell. I give up. U CA boys are
fucked up.</i> Audrey: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">OMG, RU sick? Now
I’m worried. Let me know if u need anything. XXBJ.</i>”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
snaps his phone shut, and Ben serves up a proper applause. “Author! Author!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Quite
the social experiment,” says Jack.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yes.
All the little self-propelled assumptions. Notice the endings, where Audrey
landed back on genuine concern and Brigit opted for dismissal.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really</i> like the idea of me and
Audrey, don’t you?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
just like the idea of Audrey. And my second piece of advice is: take the job.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
leans against the seawall, careful of creosote. “You think so?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You’ve
made some remarkable changes, my friend. Now that you’ve pushed yourself
against all these lifestyles, I think it would be good for you to have a taste
of your old life and see what you think.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“And
what of the fornicating Latino?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Ben
wags a fingers. “Be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">very</i> careful
messing in other people’s marriages. You never know what’s really going on
there, and how they’re going to react to outside interference. Besides, you
never know. Maybe seeing those kids will set him straight.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
wouldn’t bet the farm on it. I’m beginning to think that Thompson is just a
wild raging dick. I’m beginning to think that, given the chance, that boy would
screw Audrey, would screw Cher the barista, might even screw Gina Scarletti.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Anybody</i> would screw Gina Scarletti.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Says
the horny old man.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">am</i>.”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><br clear="all" style="page-break-before: always;" />
</span>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">R</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Key Lime Tarts</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText2" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 24.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Hi.
Sorry no response. Been sick all week.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Oh God! So sorry I went off like
that. Can u forgive me?</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Absolutely.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Its just that guys disappear on me
sometimes.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Wouldnt have left phone off so long
but it was a bad bug.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Better now?</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Much.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<h1 style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 24.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Is
this the home of Audrey LaBrea?”</span></h1>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Ohmigod!
Are you okay?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yeah.
All better now. Well – tired.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I’m
so sorry! I told you to fuck off, didn’t I?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">did</i>.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You
don’t know how many places a woman’s mind goes when she’s not getting a
response.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Ha!
I do now. But you figured it out by the end. You get bonus points for that.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Good!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You
still have to take me to dinner, though.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“How
about tonight?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“This
is so sudden!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yeah-yeah.
Drama queen. It’s just that I’ve got something special in mind. And it’s right
in your ‘hood.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Coolness.
When do you want to roll by?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“How
about six?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Pigeons?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Nope.
I keep them home in the winter.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Okay
then. You and me. No birds.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Seeya.
Um, housemate around?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Nope.
Gone for the holidays.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Good.
I want to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">scream</i>.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Mother!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Drama
queen.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
has just begun to dig in to the blessed numerals of C-Valve when Ben calls to
request an emergency meeting. He zips up in his Miata, hardtop thankfully
attached. When Jack hops in, Ben hands him a cup of coffee that turns out to be
fresh-brewed Peruvian.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Suh-weet!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Good
listening requires wakefulness.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Confucius?
Gibrahn?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Haas.
Benjamin.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
comment turns out to be irrelevant, considering the lack of anything coming
from Ben’s mouth that Jack might listen to. He drives them silently into Santa
Cruz, silently up Graham Hill Road, past Roaring Camp Railroad and into Henry
Cowell Redwoods State Park. Then he walks them silently past the ranger
station, silently past the picnic area and into a small amphitheater built
around a fire pit. The benches are constructed of logs, a quarter of them
chopped out to provide a seat and a back support.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Ben
gestures Jack to the front log. He settles in at a reclining angle, feeling
like he’s at the dentist. Ben perches on a tree stump which seems to have been
placed there precisely for people to perch upon. Behind him rises an enormous
redwood. The base is hollowed out, its cave-like inner walls charred black, an
example of the tree’s remarkable ability to survive fires. Trying to ignore the
dampness seeping into his Levi’s, Jack decides that the irony is too obvious to
point out.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yes,”
says Ben. “I noticed the fire tree. Didn’t plan it that way.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
sees no need to respond, since the man can obviously read his thoughts. Ben
launches into his story sans prologue.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“She
talked me into a ride. It was inevitable. She was nice enough to give me an
aging mare, Christeltine, wide-backed and comfy like an old couch. Next to
Gina’s mount, an auburn jumping filly with the grand appellation of Fajamur’s
Rose, Christeltine looked like a horse made of mud, but still she was more than
I deserved.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“We
rode across Old Stage Road into Foothill Estates, full of ranch houses
interbreeding with McMansions, which is not as bad as it sounds. At the top of
the uppermost court there’s a path that cuts between two properties and through
a gate into the foothills. Gina reassured me that the landowner was a client,
and had granted free passage to all equestrians in the area.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“By
this time, my buttocks were really barking, but I was determined to keep going
until we reached some paradisiacal spot. Fortunately, it didn’t take long in
arriving. We crossed the face of the hills, all the grass turning that lovely
pure green from the rains, the trail cutting through in a strip of sandstone
blond, and then we boarded a ridge that seemed to extend from the hills like an
index finger. At the tip of the finger stood an enormous live oak, witchy
branches elbowing their way to the sky in all directions. We stopped underneath
to look out over the Salinas Valley, the broad swale of forlorn, plowed-over
rectangles, the frame of green hills at either side, a tiny slip of blue at the
ocean tip, a sky fanned over with horsetail cirrus. It was like a paragraph
from a Steinbeck novel, and I could hear the old rascal saying <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Now!</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
managed to sidle old Christeltine up to Rose’s vastly superior frame and wrap
an arm around Gina’s waist. She leaned over and gave my cheek a feathery kiss.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Here
I wax poetic. Quoth I: ‘I would never, ever have dreamed this in a million
years, me and the impossibly beautiful Gina Scarletti on top of the world.’</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“‘Especially
not on horseback,’ she said, and laughed that husky laugh that turns
sexagenarians into adolescent butter.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“And
quoth I: ‘Gina, I know I’m tempting fate by attempting to extend a miracle, but
do you suppose we could make this last a little longer? Perhaps until the ends
of our lives?’</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Having
no other safe way of doing it, I had placed the ring on my pinkie finger, and
then secured it in place with an utterly phony bandage. For the previous hour,
in fact, said ring had been digging into said pinkie with great enthusiasm,
helped in great part by my amateur death-grip on Christeltine’s reins.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“All
worth it, of course. As I unwound the bandage and revealed that rock, Gina fell
right to pieces. Her eyes angled up at the corners with great delight, but then
they filled with water, her face folded in on itself and she began to sob.
Naturally that set <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">me</i> off, old sap
that I am, and we just sat there for the next ten minutes, leaning our heads
together, crying our eyes out.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Eventually
I managed to capture a breath and force out some words. ‘Do I take that as a
Yes?’ She gave me her answer with all the subtlety of an umpire calling strike
three: ‘Yes!’ Then quoth I, ‘We are <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so</i>
pathetic!’ Which sent us into uncontrollable laughter. And if you’ve ever
sobbed and laughed at a run like that, you know how exhausting it is.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
wouldn’t have blamed the horses if they had bucked us off and run for their
freedom. But we had stopped over some lovely deep grasses, and they seemed
quite content to stand and nosh. We eventually recovered our senses, I managed
to get the ring onto Gina’s finger, and we straggled home. When we arrived, we
settled the horses into their stalls, collapsed on Gina’s couch and shared a
brief smile before falling asleep. When I awoke – full darkness blanketing the
windows – it occurred to me that I might have dreamt the whole unlikely
episode. But then Gina came to, and gave me a big fat kiss.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Ben
is a gifted storyteller, and by the end Jack is feeling a little teary-eyed
himself. The only thing he can think to do is to hop over and give Ben a
high-five (something he was never very good at) and then to give him a manly
bear hug. He manages to say, in a Jewish mother’s voice, “My little boy,
getting married!” which cracks them up good, and then they drive into Felton
for a pizza.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">So what r u up to? Seeing anyone?</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Yeh. Shes erratic, but never boring.
What about u?</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Me 2! Sort of an old flame. Hes very
kind.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Im so glad we both have someone. I
hate it when these things get unbalanced.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Not that these things happen much!</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I hope not! Would give me a heart
attack. But it sure was fun.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It was smashing, honey.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I love when u text in Brit.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Its me first language. Yank.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack guides Thompson’s
Porsche into a parking garage, and he and Audrey descend to Cedar Street. A
block east, the shops along Pacific Avenue are fairly booming with commerce,
the Christmas rush fully underway. Audrey wears a long scarlet coat to go with
the tiny scarlet dress, to go with the hair, the candy-colored lipstick, the
high FM pumps. She is RED, and Jack, in a black suit and red tie, takes her
hand, hardly believing that this package of lusciousness is allowing herself to
be seen in his possession. When they stop at the intersection, she spins to
plant a kiss firmly on his lips. He is a figure in a fashion commercial, the
lights of traffic teasing the periphery of his vision. A man in a pickup lets
out an old-fashioned hoot and Audrey breaks off, laughing.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I’m
sorry. I’m just… All that radio silence last week. You scared me, honey, and
now I’m afraid I can’t control myself.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“That’s
very unfortunate,” says Jack, not meaning a word. He takes her elbow and guides
her across the street.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You
didn’t help matters any, driving me here in a Porsche. Are you trying to make
me uncontrollably hot?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You
are already uncontrollably hot, honey.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Why
thank you. You got some kinda blackmail on this dude?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack’s
feeling brazen. “I witnessed Mr. Flores receiving a blow job last week from
some blonde coed. He…”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She
puts a finger to his lips. “Not right now, honey. Save the nasty for later.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Says the Queen of Nasty.</i> He’s feeling
oddly impatient. Perhaps it’s the constant stage-direction, the constant
randomness. Wasn’t he ecstatic just three minutes ago?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>They
arrive at Audrey’s choice, a cozy little bistro called Café Limelight. The
walls are high and burgundy. A kitchen counter runs the length of the room. A
blonde in a yellow dress is setting up her keyboard.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Suzanne?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
looked up her schedule on the Web,” says Audrey.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>They
rush over and clog up the kitchen traffic by giving Suzanne boisterous
Monkey-style hugs.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“What
a treat!” says Jack. “You sing, we eat.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You’re
rhyming!” says Suzanne. “I hope I last through dinner. I just drove up Highway
One and boy are my arms tired.” The lack of laughter sends her down that
dreaded path of joke-explanation. “You know, because of the windy… roads.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh
yeah,” says Jack. “Yeah, that’s a workout. We’d better find a table and leave
you to your work.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Thanks.
And thanks for coming.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
café is run by a married couple, genuine foodies who invest their dishes with
small, thoughtful touches. Jack gets a focaccia sandwich with salmon and red
peppers, with a side of pickled mushrooms. Audrey gets a Caesar salad with
locally caught anchovies and parmesan cheese grated right at the table. They
follow with key lime tarts topped with custard, and meanwhile find their
occupation in starting the applause at the end of Suzanne’s songs (dinner
crowds being not always attentive to their musicians).</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>In
her charming, off-beat manner, Suzanne introduces the next song. “I think it’s
time for me to play you a Christmas song, but I really only know one. So if you
don’t like this one, you’re out of luck.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It’s
something called the Christmas Waltz. Jack’s never heard it, but it seems to
register with Audrey, whose emerald eyes get big with recognition. She turns to
Jack and says, “Dance with me.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
wonders how they’re supposed to waltz in such a small space (and how he’s supposed
to waltz at <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">all</i>), but Audrey seems
content to sway on the one and the three, in a few square feet next to
Suzanne’s amplifier. Jack moves his hands to lead Audrey into a spin, but she
stops him, resting her head on his chest and holding him tighter. He brushes
his face against her hair, which smells like vanilla and cinnamon, and kisses
her at the end of the song.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>After
that, Audrey is strangely silent, holding Jack’s hand under the table, kissing
him on the cheek, sipping from a glass of dessert wine. Suzanne finishes her
set with the anti-romantic “Hallelujah,” takes Jack’s check for another CD
(this one headed, almost treasonously, for Portland) and hugs them both
farewell. She is driving the next morning for Eureka, working up the coast to
spend Christmas with her family in Seattle.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>As
they exit onto the sidewalk, Audrey stops, pregnant with words she cannot
speak, her eyes flashing with mad thought.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Where?
Where? Have to find… Oh! I know. Come.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It’s
yet another ride on the Audrey Express. She pulls Jack south across Mission,
then a block east to the town clock, which looks so traditional it ought to be
on Disneyland’s Main Street. She leads him onto the ledge around its perimeter
and gives him another of her devastating kisses.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Audrey
pulls back and smiles, looking at him so intently that he feels a little
hypnotized.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“This
is shocking news, Jack. Jack. I love you, Jack. I’m in love with you.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He
marvels at the ease of his response.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“And
I’m in love with you.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Are
you? Are you really?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
smiles, and kisses her on the tip of her nose.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Of
course.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Thank
God!” says Audrey, and slings her arms around him.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack
peers over Audrey’s shoulder. It’s nine-fifty-two, December 16.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><br clear="all" style="page-break-before: always;" />
</span>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">S</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The Cowgirl Hat Conspiracy</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">It’s
Christmas morning, and Jack is bathing himself in numbers. He realizes that
some people would look askance at this, would whisper the word “workaholic,”
but let them celebrate their way – all he wants for Christmas are long columns
of integers. Until his cell phone rings.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Thompson!
How’s the great white north?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Unbelievably
freakin’ cold, my friend. I had completely forgotten.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“You’ve
been Californianized.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“And I’m a
Texan. And a full-blooded beaner.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Well I
wouldn’t say that.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“But it’s
true!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Yes, but <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I</i> wouldn’t say it.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Smart man,
gringo.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“So how are
things going? How’s the wife and kids?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Ah, Jack.
I can’t tell you how good it is, watching those little velociraptors tear into
their presents. They’re so damn cute, I can barely believe I made ‘em.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“And the
wife?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I have won
her over. So much so that they are all moving back, as of January tenth.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Fantastic!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“And you
have to move out.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“You
bastard! Kidding, kidding. I couldn’t think of a better eviction.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Thanks,
man. You having a good Christmas?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Yes. I’m
working.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I knew
it!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“And, I’m
almost done.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Wow. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">That</i> is phenomenal. I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">knew</i> you were the one to get us out of
this shithole. I have <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">got</i> to figure
out how to get you back full-time.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Maybe an
alias and plastic surgery?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“On the
other hand, it’s Christmas! Have some fun, wouldja?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Audrey’s
coming over this afternoon.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Ah, the
Oompah-Loompah with the fine ass. I want you to screw her in every room of the
house. I want those pheromones floating around when my wife gets home.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Yes, sir!
Hey, and congrats again. Glad to hear things are working out.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Thanks,
dude. See ya!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Ciao!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack folds
his phone and immediately wonders where he picked up a word like “Ciao.” A
half-hour later, his right hand is dancing over the number-pad on his laptop,
just like old times. He flips a page on the spreadsheet and realizes that it’s
the last – and that it only contains one entry. Several finger-twitches later,
he is entirely done with the project. He misses it already.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">He looks up
for the first time in quite a while and discovers an astounding amount of
sunlight flooding the windows. He checks the clock, finds that he’s got two
hours before Audrey, and gets up to pull on his sweatshirt.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">After a
week-long storm that pounded the coast with rain and left dustings of snow on
the coastal mountains, the beach looks like it’s been scrubbed clean by a
hundred thousand housemaids. The sunshine is brilliant, the water as flat and
calm as a koi pond. The storm has left little mounds of rocks every hundred
feet, and Jack finds bits of sea glass, tucked among the pebbles like hard
candy. He was only planning a brief hike, but the introduction of treasure
keeps him going, all the way to the cliffs of New Brighton. There he finds
enough rock-stacks to populate the state legislature, and wonders if White
Horse was out here during the rainstorm. He crouches beneath the tallest and
tries to fit it into the screen of his camera phone. When he sees the results,
he indulges in a hearty curse.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Damn!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Not
workin’ out for ya?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">His eyes
are fixed on the nothing-looking blobs on his phone screen. “I swear these
things are protected by a curse. They refuse to show up on photos.” He punches
the erase button and looks up to address his interloper, a thin woman with
milk-white skin, oval-shaped eyes and long, straight hair. Failing to come up
with a name, he announces their place of meeting.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“The Fog
Bank!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Bobbie,”
she says. “And you’re Jack.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Um, yeah.
So what brings you to the White Horse Jenga pile?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“You know
White Horse?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Sure. He’s
a legend.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Bobbie smiles.
“And yet, you didn’t notice that he was in that band we were dancing to?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“No shit!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Rhythm
guitar.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I guess I
had more important things to look at.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Uh-oh.
Smooth talker.” She smiles broadly, re-introducing him to those dimples. As if
to catch him in the act, she says, “So how was the wedding?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Hmm. Which
direction you headed?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“All the
way back to Rio del Mar. This walk is my Christmas tradition, before my family
stuffs me like a piñata. We call it the Cliffenbock.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Ha! A
noble brew – and a long hike! But I’ll need most of it to explain that night.
Shall we?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">It takes a
half mile and a thorough cross-examination before Bobbie accepts Jack’s story.
In a sense, he respects that. He’s already seen too many idiot girls buying
everything that Thompson has to sell.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“So back
then, you and Audrey were just dating. And now you’re more serious.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“She’s
coming over for Christmas supper.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“My timing
sucks.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Your
disappointment flatters me.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Finding a
non-gay man who can dance is not that easy.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack laughs
and pauses to pick up an aqua-colored chip ribbed with bottlecap threads. He
hands it to Bobbie.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Thanks!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“For your
troubles. For your friendship.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Stop being
so nice, Jack. You’re breaking my heart.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Thankfully,
she appears to be kidding. He finds a perfect disc of black stone and scores a
seven-hopper on the smooth water.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Oh, sure,”
says Bobbie. “You can skip stones, too. Is there anything you’re <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not</i> good at?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Well right
now I’m not very good at being employed. Hey, how’s your curvy blonde friend?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Oh,
Kirsten? I’ve only seen her once since then. She is wildly in love. I’m
surprised you didn’t know.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Why?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“‘Cause
she’s hung up on your friend. Tony Banderas.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Um.
Pardon?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Sounds
like a pain in the ass to me. He always has to come over to her place. At least
until the divorce comes through. I know he’s your friend, but I don’t trust
that guy.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack laughs
much too loudly, trying to hide his great surprise. He suddenly feels like he’s
treading in dangerous waters, and had best keep his mouth shut.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Yeah,” he
says. “There’s a reason he’s getting divorced. Or two. Or three.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“That’s
what I told Kirsten. Sexy man, but <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">much</i>
too smooth. Watch out, sistah! Hey, this is totally off the subject, but have
you seen my hat? I thought I left it at the Fog Bank, but…”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I’ve got
it.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“You do!
Well <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that</i> was kinda silly.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I was
kinda drunk.” Jack bends down to fetch a postage-stamp square of green glass.
“And it just looked so… lonely. Plus, I had this vision of roaming the
countryside, trying it on the heads of different women until I found my
Cinderella.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Bobbie
slaps him on the shoulder. “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Watch</i> it,
prince. You’re getting a little too charming. Any chance I can get it back?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Excellent
chance. Follow me.” He takes a sharp left, and soon they’re climbing the back
deck of Big Brown.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Holy crap.
So the story is true. I told Kirsten she must have been hallucinating.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Yup. It’s
Big, and it’s Brown.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“And
frankly,” says Bobbie, “kinda ugly.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I have
mixed feelings about it myself.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“So why do
you stay here?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“It comes
with a beach.” They round the corner, and Jack looks up at the enormous
chocolate walls. “Plus a boatload of intangibles that I really can’t explain.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">He asks her
to stay on the porch while he fetches the cowgirl hat from his front closet.
When he returns, she’s writing something on a small slip of paper. She hands it
to him, then takes the hat and places it on her head.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Ah! Now I
feel complete. That’s my phone number. If things don’t work out with Audrey. Or
even if they do; you can never have too many friends.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Sure.”
Jack tucks it into his pants pocket. “It was great running into you, Bobbie.
Have a great Christmas.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“You too,
Jack.” She looks off into a middle distance, as if she’s processing something,
then returns to Jack. “Could you… give me a few spins for the road?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Spins?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“It’s a big
porch. We could probably manage it.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Oh. Okay.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack takes
Bobbie’s hands, finds an old Bonnie Raitt tune running through his head and
leads her into a series of the moves he learned with Audrey. He feels the same
remarkable sense of balance and gravity from their meeting at the Fog Bank, and
is soon tossing Bobbie around the tiles with abandon. They begin to laugh at
their own synchronicity, and they keep going until Jack runs out of ideas. He
warns her ahead of time, imagines the song coming to an end and drops Bobbie
into a dip. Balanced across Jack’s arm, the world an upside-down kaleidoscope,
Bobbie sees a beautiful redhead, perched on the second step with a pet carrier,
wearing a look of extremely pressurized calm.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Hi,” says
Bobbie. “You must be Audrey.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I ordered
these little message carriers online.” Audrey holds a small aluminum tube with
a clip to one side. She hands Jack a pen and a tiny slip of paper. “So the idea
is, we write down our Christmas wishes, and Mamet and Cigarette will fly them
to the heavens.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">She leans
down to write something. Jack writes, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I
want Audrey to forgive me for dancing with strange women on my porch.</i>
Audrey takes the slips, folds them up and tucks them into the tubes, then clips
the tubes onto the right leg of each pigeon. Then they stand and, on the
customary count of three, loft their charges skyward. The birds circle twice
and head southeast along the shore.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I never
get tired of that,” she says. Then she swats Jack on the arm with surprising
force.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“What the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fuck</i> were you doing? Don’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">make</i> me get jealous. I fucking <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hate</i> that, so don’t even get me
started.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack keeps
his arms at the ready, in case she goes for another strike.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Do you
want an explanation? Or is that just going to piss you off even more?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Audrey sits
in a patio chair and folds her arms very tightly. “Is it a good story?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Yes.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“It <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">better</i> be.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“After
Thompson found out he was going to see his kids at Christmas, he took me out to
celebrate. We ended up at the Fog Bank, where Bobbie and I did some dancing.
And I ran into her just now on the beach.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“And just <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">had</i> to take her to the house?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Yes. I had
her hat.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Why?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“She left
it at the bar.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“And <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you</i> should have left it there, because
that’s the first place she would have looked for it. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">But</i>, you took it home, because really you wanted to see Bobbie
again. Am I right?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Perhaps
it’s because he’s tired of having no good answer to the Cowgirl Hat Conspiracy,
but Jack feels his blood rising. “So let me get this straight. At a time when
you made your appearances in my life whenever the fuck you felt like it, I was
supposed to sit next to the phone and await your summons? You’re awfully fond
of your independence, sweetcakes, and that’s just dandy, but you have to let
other people have theirs, too, or it really doesn’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">count</i>.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 24.0pt;">Audrey stomps off to the
railing and releases a filthy, muttered stream punctuated by the letters F and
K. And K. Jack thinks it best to leave her alone for a while. After a minute,
she turns and yells.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“This is
what I fucking hate! This is how it starts. One person says I love you, the
other agrees, and then everybody proceed directly to the bickering and mutual
disrespect. I have had <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">way</i> too much
of this shit!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack
advances to a safe middle distance, which places him next to the tiki god.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“This shit
is exactly what it’s about, Audrey. We have to learn how to fight.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“How about <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">discussing</i>?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“No.
Fighting. I love you because you’re passionate, and I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">want</i> to fight with you. Be real with me. And tell me this: Am I
going to see more of you now? Are you going to stay connected? Because when a
woman tells me she loves me, that’s what I expect.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Audrey
takes a long breath, and seems to calm down. “Are we going to be exclusive?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Yes.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Well, then
– yes.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Good! Now,
are you going to kiss me?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Audrey
shoots him a simmering look. “Oh, I’m going to do a lot more than that.” She
begins to remove articles of clothing as she charges in Jack’s direction.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Jesus
Christ!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Exactly,”
says Audrey. “’Tis the day of our Savior’s birth.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Well thank
the Lord. How did we end up in the hot tub?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Hell if I
know. But what I do know is, if you ever have the opportunity to go straight
from fighting to fucking, you should <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">always</i>
take it.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Jesus. I
think I hurt my ankle.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Wouldn’t
be surprised.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I love
you, Audrey. And I’m sorry about the… incident.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Next time
you dance with another woman – preferably at some public event where I, too, am
in attendance – try not to look so damn good while you’re doing it.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Can’t help
it. I had an <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">excellent</i> teacher.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Audrey
gives him a wary look. “You’ve been hanging out with Thompson too much. You’re
starting to talk like a dawg.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Yikes!”
Jack fishes his sweatshirt out of the water and tosses it onto the rooftop with
a splop. “Speaking of, the wife and kids are moving back home in a couple of
weeks. Which means I’m out.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Aah! I’m
gonna miss this place.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I get the
feeling I might be back. I have discovered some things about Thompson that do
not bode well.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“A dawg’s a
dawg, honey. Never changes. That’s why I stick with monkeys. And in case I
forgot to mention it, I love you, too."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack kisses
her. “Thank you.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Because
you’re a monkey’s monkey.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I’m
honored.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Audrey
wraps Jack up in her arms and stretches her legs into a ballet <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">pointe</i> just above the water. “But since
your time is running out – and since I have a few days off work – you mind if I
spend a few days here at the mansion?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Did you
bring any clothes?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Audrey lets
fly with a witchy cackle. “Who the hell needs clothes?”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><br clear="all" style="page-break-before: always;" />
</span>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">T</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Munchies, Smokes, Drums</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Considering the subterfuge he is
being forced to undertake on behalf of his philandering host, Jack is feeling
much more at ease driving the Porsche. It’s a gorgeously sunny afternoon, and
he’s downshifting the upgrade at the south end of the Pajaro Valley, the somber
green hills spotted with broccoli crowns of live oak. He’s on his way to the
great New Year’s Spectacular at Terra and Ivan’s, and the owner of the Porsche
isn’t due home till the second.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He
tops out onto a long straightaway bracketed by strawberry fields, the
gray-green stacks of the Moss Landing power plant looming on the horizon. This
particular piece of road comes with a musical trigger: “Me and Bobby McGee,”
some line about losing a girlfriend in Salinas. He pictures a baby-faced Kris
Kristofferson, driving this same stretch, sometime in the early sixties, never
dreaming that the lines he was putting together could someday touch the lips of
a million singers, notably one named Janis.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>This
thought, like so many others, veers onto Audrey – the days spent in slow motion
at Big Brown, like a couple of rich newlyweds. He had always wondered if their
chemistry would fade without the elements of surprise and gymnastic sex, and
now he has his answer. They spent languid hours together, making unhurried
love, drifting into easy pursuits: a full ten frames of bowling, a DVD and
popcorn on the great white couch, a rainy-day soak in the hot tub, the long
beach-walks that you read about in personal ads. Not that the surprises were
completely gone; at the end of one beach-walk, she pulled him behind one of
White Horse’s larger constructions for a virtuosic blow job.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He
figures that this last thought is what has led him onto the shoulder, until he
realizes that he’s not <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">on</i> the
shoulder. The sudden thumping is coming from a flat tire on the Carrera’s right
side. He pulls to the shoulder, exclaiming, with an operatic intensity of
feeling, “Oh fucking great!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He
rolls to the flattest spot on the turnout and sits at the wheel, rearranging
his priorities. Arriving at party on time – gone. All bets off. Take care of
the car, Jack. Jack. Right – jack.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He
flips the trunk release and steps out, the breeze of a passing truck whipping
his hair. Surveying the trunk, he spots a handle near the frame and yanks it,
relieved to find that the tire-shaped hump in the floor actually does contain a
tire – one of those junior-NASCAR temporaries that hardly befits a Porsche. He
undoes the brace, lifts out the spare and deposits it next to his right front
tire, which is now as flat as the bottom of a tennis shoe.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jack.
Lug wrench. Both sides of the trunk contain built-in compartments. He flips the
left-hand latch, opens the panel like a door on a hinge and finds a burgundy
leather pouch. A pouch that might contain tools. He pulls a zipper along the
top to reveal a messy array of DVDs in jewel cases. The cases bear white
file-folder labels, each of them marked with the name of a woman: Shari,
Therese, Juliana, Meghan, Johanna, Brigit (Brigit?) and, at the far left,
Kirsten. The bag contains one other item: a bottle of Viagra.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Holy
shit,” says Jack. He re-zips the pouch, returns it to the compartment and
closes the panel. Then he opens the right-hand compartment, finds the jack and
lug wrench, and sets to his work. Priorities. All bets off.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
temporary spare and its red-letter warnings confine him to the driving style of
a 65-year-old school principal, so the early evening is nowhere near as fun as
the late afternoon. This is especially true of the farm road, with its rain-puddle
gouges and metal ridges parading as speed bumps. Terra and Ivan’s driveway is
stacked up with cars, so he parks near the entrance, in a patch of tall weeds
behind a long-drydocked motorboat. He inches around to the passenger door and
is pulling out a sushi platter and a bottle of Gewürztraminer when a new-model
white VW Beetle pulls in and parks at the other side of the entrance. The
driver looks like Audrey, but the car doesn’t match.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Hi
Jack.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It’s
Brigit. (Brigit?) She stands in the center of the driveway wearing a red
Santa-hat and a pink ski jacket, holding a bottle of peppermint schnapps. It’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Brigit</i>.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Going
to give us a kiss then?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He
sets the sushi and wine on the ground and walks slowly toward the mirage.
Brigit sets down her bottle and spreads her arms. Jack hugs her and kisses her
on the cheek. She kisses him on the lips and smiles.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“If
you could see the look on your face.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">He manages
to separate himself, as if he fears falling under some voodoo spell.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I don’t…
understand. You’re… What are you doing here?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I’m here
for the party, you goof.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Okay. Um…
Why?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">She wraps
her arms around herself and laughs, then takes off the Santa hat and gazes
skyward.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“What an
awful lot of stars you have in Salinas! Gorgeous. Oh, um… well. I’m here to see
Thompson.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Okay.
Why?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">She slaps
him on the chest and laughs. “You haven’t figured that out by now? ‘Old flame’?
‘Very unexpected’?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“You’re
really not telling me…”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I’ve hit
the jackpot… Jack. It’s quite stunning. The impetuous fool hopped a flight to
Portland one day, took me out to dinner and told me that he’s divorcing his
wife. We’ve been chatting ever since, and now he’s talking about moving to
Portland.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I can’t
believe it,” says Jack.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I know!
It’s such a…”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I can’t
believe that you’re one of the idiots.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Beg
pardon?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I had you
pegged as a smart girl who got fooled. Once. Now it turns out you’re an idiot.
And you know I think I’ve finally got this thing figured out. For every
raging-dick superdawg like Thompson, there have to be thirty-two complete
fucking idiot women to fall for his act.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Brigit’s
eyes are wide with insult. “How dare you talk to me like…”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Oh! You
Brits are <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so</i> charming. You actually
say things like ‘How dare you.’ That is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so</i>
adorable!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I… I would
never expect this from you, Jack.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack waves
toward the approximate direction of Wisconsin. “That <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">asshole</i> is in Madison right now, begging his wife for mercy, making
plans for her and the kids to move back into the mansion.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Brigit
produces two precise blinks. “I would assume he wants to get everything back to
normal before he informs her of his long-range intentions.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack brings
his face closer to hers, like a baseball manager arguing with an umpire. “That
cock-and-bull story he gave you, Bridgey? That’s the same one he gave to the
Santa Cruz bimbette he’s been screwing all during the holidays.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I…”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“On the way
here, I discovered a stash of DVDs in the trunk of Thompson’s Porsche, marked
with the names of three dozen women. What do you suppose those are? Movie
rentals? Oh, but don’t worry. One of the names is Brigit.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Brigit
begins crying.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Look, I’m
sorry,” says Jack. “You caught me off-guard. This nasty little… pageant keeps
growing on me. I guess it…”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Brigit
begins sobbing. Jack goes to touch her shoulder but she smacks him away.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">thought</i> you were a gentleman. But I
don’t suppose a gentleman goes about shagging his friend’s lovers.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The sheer
illogic hits Jack like a splash of ice water. He raises an index finger at
Brigit’s nose, and tries his best to speak calmly.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Look. As a
guy, I kind of like that horny bastard. It’s one hell of a show, and forgive me
but driving his Porsche, living at his beach house and screwing the occasional
leftover mistress beats the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hell</i> out
of my old life. But if you think I’ve got enough imagination to come up with
thirty amateur pornos in a burgundy leather pouch – next to a bottle of Viagra,
I might add – you are giving me much more credit than I deserve. Meanwhile,
I’ve got a party to go to. Ta!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">He fights
the urge to slap her silly, then fetches his wine and sushi and heads for the
front porch. He’s so intent on the conflict behind him that he almost runs into
the giant serpent that seems to have swallowed the front walk. It turns out to
be a long tubular tunnel, constructed of plastic camping fabric stretched
around five-foot hoops. The mouth of the great beast has suctioned itself to
the front door, so he assumes it’s the only way in.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack
assumes a Grouch Marx stoop and ventures inside, carefully balancing his sushi
and wine. Toward the end, the tunnel grows increasingly dark. The porch climb
is a game of blind man’s bluff, but eventually he locates the front door,
gropes for the knob and pushes his way inside.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Seated on a
large pillow, surrounded by lava lamps, is Willie. He wears a lime-green warmup
suit, and his hair is greased and spiked upward like a growth of cactus. The
rest of the ensemble includes oversized circle spectacles, pointed Vulcan
Spock-ears, a red clown’s-nose and, around his neck, a large clock on a chain,
in the style of the rapper Flava Flav.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Dude!
You’re late. Late I tell you. You are <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so</i>
late. Here – have a toke on this. It’ll make you not care about being late.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">He hands
him a pipe shaped like a penis.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Hey!” says
Jack. “I remember <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">this</i> one.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“We call
him Dick Johnson. Sucking cock ain’t so bad when Dick’s on the job. Omigod! I
am <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">such</i> a homo.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Don’t ask
don’t tell. That is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">quite </i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a tunnel out there.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Thanks! I
found it at an Army surplus store. I guess they used it for training or
something. This is the first time I managed to get some use out of it.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack
finishes a healthy toke and has already half-forgotten his fight with Brigit.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Hey, so
where do I go from here?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Willie
waves his fingers, like a magician in mid-conjure, and opens a curtain to his
left, revealing a dark tunnel three feet high.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Follow the
signs, O traveler. Especially the sign to the munchies, because you probably
don’t want to cart that sushi around. Unless you’re trolling for a whale. Har!
Hey, can I grab a couple of those? I’m <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hungry</i>.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack tips up
the plastic cover; Willie grabs a tuna and a California roll. He heads through
the drapes and receives a shock when his knees start making sounds like small
firecrackers. He reaches down to discover a wall-to-wall carpet of bubble-wrap,
then continues forward, crackling as he goes.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Fifteen
feet on, he butts up against another curtain, pokes his head through and finds
a small compartment that seems to serve as an intersection. An LED flashlight
dangles from the ceiling, illuminating a signpost affixed to a Christmas tree
stand. The post holds four arrowed signs reading <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Munchies, Smokes, Drums </i>and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Playroom.</i>
Jack follows the munchies sign, a slight leftward shift, and enters another
tunnel, this one a foot deep with Styrofoam packing peanuts.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">He comes to
another curtain and enters a low, dark room lit entirely in red: red lamps, red
Christmas lights and the kind of red flashers that you would find on a cop car.
The room is ringed with large cushions, and upturned milk crates serving as
tables. At the far end is a long, low coffee table covered with platters of
food.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">As Jack is
setting down his sushi, a figure unfolds itself from the far side of the table.
At first it appears to be an extremely large snake, but the scales turn out to
be the red sequins of a floor-length evening gown. The wearer owns an extremely
lengthy physique, a quality somewhat furthered by a high bouffant of
fire-engine red. The face is large, also, and equine, adorned by horn-rimmed
spectacles with flashing red lights, a long Roman nose and a generous mouth
done up in cherry-red lipstick. The voice that arises from said lips is
surprisingly deep.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Sushi!
Fish are ugly. If fish could really <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">see</i>
each other, they would never breed. Maybe that’s why the female fish lays down
the eggs somewhere, and then the male fish comes along later to spread the
sperm. They can’t stand the sight of each other! But I do like to eat them.
Because they’re ugly. And they taste good.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“You’re
Terra’s brother, right?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Yeah. They
call me Troll. I have no idea why.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“So you’re
in charge of the food?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">He blinks
several times, as if Jack has asked the most preposterous of questions. “Is
anybody really in charge of anything? There’s no control in this world. All you
can do is react. We’re all just a bunch of valence electrons looking to land
somewhere. I’ll bet there are other civilizations. That’s what the Northern
Lights are about. Signals.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">This last
thought freezes Troll in his tracks; he seems to be too enchanted with the
image to speak or move. Jack takes it as an opening.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I think
I’ll head for the smokes.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Troll snaps
back into motion, as if Jack has flipped a switch.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“What a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fantastic</i> idea! Follow me.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack
follows Troll’s sequined butt through the peanuts, through the intersection and
rightward into a tunnel containing hundreds of black balloons. When they
surface at the far end, Jack finds that he can stand up, which is a great
relief. The space here is a full ten feet high, if only four feet wide. The
length is a matter of some speculation. The ceiling is lined with theatrical
spotlights, shooting multicolored beams into a thick band of smoke. Jack and
Troll wander about 20 feet before they find Ben, sitting in an arm chair, next
to a patio table wrapped in aluminum foil. Ben is taking hits off his hookah
pipe, and wears a bright orange safety vest and hard hat bearing the logo of
the Caterpillar Tractor Company. Sitting on a barstool next to him is Ivan,
wearing a Mickey Mouse hat with fake whiskers attached to his cheeks. Stuffed
between the fingers of his oversized white gloves is a remarkably obese joint
-–what a devotee might call a “fatty.” He passes it to Troll, who takes a
grateful hit.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Ben!” says
Jack. “So how come no one told me there was a theme?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Ben takes a
deep pull from his hookah and tries to sound mysterious. “Every Wonderland
needs an Alice. Have a hit, Alice.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack takes
a drag and proceeds directly to a fit of coughing.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Oh!” says
Ben. “Sorry. No flavored tobacco tonight. We’re all pretty determined to get
wasted. Speaking of, let’s open up that wine!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Feed your
head!” squeaks Ivan, nibbling at his gloves.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Ben takes
out a Swiss Army knife and makes quick use of its corkscrew attachment. He
takes a healthy swallow and proclaims, “That’s sweet!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Gewürztraminer,”
says Jack, proud of his elocution. “I like my wines sweet and white.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Like your
women.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Amen.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I myself
prefer a zesty Italian chianti.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“A
well-aged chianti.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Touché.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Troll slams
a hand on the table. “Please! Two languages at a time. Chianti sounds like a
new sportscar. Gewürztraminer sounds like a villain in a science-fiction movie.
You’re tearing me apart!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“You’ll
have to forgive Troll,” says Ben. “When he gets intoxicated, his line of
discourse is like a feather in a high wind.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Hey!
That’s my job.” Willie pops through the smoke, scratching at a Spock-ear.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“You’ve
abandoned your post,” says Ben. “You kwazy wabbit.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I’m
lonely.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Understood.
I…” Ben stops and cocks an ear. “Methinks I hear drums.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Monkeys!”
says Willie.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Girl</i> Monkeys,” Ivan squeaks.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Have to
it, men!” says Ben. Troll leads the charge, clomping forward in a pair of
size-15 pumps, and the rest is something like a football squad running an
obstacle course. The stretch of tunnel to the drumming area seems to be empty,
except for faint beams of light striping the floor. Once they break the beams,
however, the secret is revealed: a long line of electronic porch frogs that set
in to croaking like it’s high mating season at the swimming hole. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">They
re-emerge in what was formerly the TV room – the only room in the house that
seems to have been left at its normal proportions. A logical decision,
considering the now-familiar gathering of congas, djembes, bongos, toms and
percussion accessories. The walls are laced with white Christmas lights, but
the three lamps have been de-shaded and outfitted with blacklights. This has an
especially haunting effect on Terra, who is done up entirely in white: a
Victorian bridal dress, a tiara with trailing veil, elbow-length cocktail
gloves and whiteface geisha makeup. The lights have a different effect on
Constance, who is done up completely in stripes of red and white: striped hose,
striped skirt, striped sweater and one of those goofy-high top hats, like the
one worn by the Cat in the Hat. Thanks to the blacklights, she is only half
there.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The two of
them work a samba pattern over the congas. The boys scatter to their
instruments. Jack takes a first stab at Ivan’s new dombek, which offers a
resounding bass at its center and pleasant ringing qualities at its rim – an
even wider pitch-range than the djembe. He’s deep into a chaotic solo when
Audrey pops through the entrance and springs to her feet. She is dressed as a
belly dancer: a top of spangled copper rings, bare midriff, a gold-colored
skirt riding dangerously low on her hips, and sheer veils trailing all around.
Jack abandons his dombek to plant her with a freeway kiss. When they’re done,
she rewards his attentions with a blacklit Cheshire Cat smile.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Are you
enjoying our Wonderland?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Oh I am,
definitely. But who are you?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">She shakes
her hips, setting her spangles clattering. “I’m the dragon lady.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“The
Jabberwock! Kind of a stretch, but all things considered…”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I breathe
fire,” she says. “So be careful. Who’s the British lady out front?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack has
already worked out his calculations, and is quick with his response.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">That</i> is one of Thompson’s mistresses.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Plural.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Multitudinous.
She apparently believes that he will be showing up tonight. Which is news to me
– but then, I’m not sleeping with him.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“You’re
about the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">only</i> one. Come on, sugar,
let’s drum.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Audrey
heads for the percussion basket, ties on the goat’s-hoof anklets and plays her
part, gyrating around the room, making sure that her hips get as much work as
her feet. Jack hides his erection behind a large conga as the tempo speeds up
into a windstorm. Twenty minutes later, the whole thing collapses under its own
rapidity.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Oxygen!”
shouts Terra.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Food!”
shouts Ivan.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Appendectomy!”
shouts Troll.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack
follows Audrey’s golden ass through the hall of frogs. They emerge at the
intersection, where they discover a blonde girl kneeling at the signpost. She
spots a belly-dancer crawling her way and unleashes a rather stunning
big-toothed smile. She has cutesy baby cheeks and eyes of radiant sky-blue.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Hi! I’m
new here. What would you recommend?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Are you
sober?” asks Audrey.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Stone
cold.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Ah, a
pity. I’d recommend the smoking room. Crawl this way.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">So now Jack
is crawling behind the blonde. Not quite the golden ass of Audrey, a bit on the
economy size, but the tight jeans are working hard to provide him with a
pleasant view. A view that he’s seen before, rising as a full moon over
Thompson’s coffee table. Holy shit! He’s surrounded.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">They drift
through the smoke<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>to find Ben and Gina
in the armchair, making out like teenagers. Gina wears a chocolate brown
cowgirl jacket, a crisp white blouse, wraparound leather miniskirt and black
stockings leading to coffee-colored cowgirl boots with gold trim. Jack is
growing increasingly understanding of Ben’s enchantment.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Hey you
two,” he calls. “Get a room!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Ben breaks
off their kiss and laughs. “We’d <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">have</i>
a room, if it weren’t for you meddling kids!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Gina
unleashes the husky laugh that Ben talks about incessantly. “Ha! All those
years, I wondered what was going on at that hippie-house down the road, and I gotta
tell ya, it’s even loopier than I expected.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">She’s
family now, so Jack gives her a kiss on the cheek. “Welcome to the Monkey
Tribe.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Thank
you!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Now we
need something for Kirsten to smoke.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Ben offers
up the ceramic penis pipe. “Willie left this one fully loaded. Feel free.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Kirsten
takes the pipe by the scrotum and threatens to turn into a girl made entirely
of Jell-O.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“If you’ll
forgive the… aesthetics,” adds Ben.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Oh she’s familiar with the aesthetics</span></i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">, thinks
Jack.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“So
Kirsten,” says Audrey. “Don’t mind my asking, but who are you here with?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Kirsten
wraps her lips around the penis-head, then talks through her exhale, producing
a voice that might very well belong to a Jabberwock.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I’m
meeting Thompson. He told me to meet him here. Confusing directions!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Ben laughs.
“Old Stage/New Stage?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Oh my <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">God! </i>I must have done three laps before
I got it right.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Ten minutes
later, Audrey is chewing on a shrimp cocktail when she begins the expected
interrogation.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“So you
know Kirsten?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack takes
a time-consuming mouthful of egg roll. “Not that I don’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">love</i> any chance to bring this up, but Kirsten is pals with Bobbie,
the woman I was dancing with on the porch.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Ah! And
you also know the Brit in the driveway?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I ran into
Thompson and Brigit in Oregon. Which is how I got my house-sitting assignment,
which is how I met Ben, which is how I met you.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Hmm. A
rather pivotal personage in our personal histories.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Watch it,
honey. You’re alliterating all over the buffet.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Audrey
toothpicks another shrimp and chews it down, ruminating all the while.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Being
Thompson’s chief of staff, have you ever thought of warning these women?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Ben seems
to think it would be a bad idea. And he’s probably right. I gave it a try with
Brigit earlier; having just driven from Portland in pursuit of her delusions,
she reacted as if I were something she had just stepped in.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Audrey
ruffles a hand through Jack’s hair, a token of affection for which he is most
grateful.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Judging by
the presence of both of them,” she says, “I believe our man Thompson has a
death wish. Hey! Before the shit hits the fan, let’s check out the playroom.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“After
you.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Audrey
kisses him on the neck. “I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">know</i> why
you want me to crawl in front of you, and I want you to know that I greatly
appreciate it.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">They return
to the intersection then keep straight on into a long tunnel covered in
ping-pong balls. Audrey puts an extra waggle in her get-along, and Jack
encourages her with a spank.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The
playroom is another midget-cave, six-foot square, lit with colored disco
lights, underlain with mattresses. The mattresses are covered with foot-wide
plastic playballs, maybe thirty in all, with a pair of three-foot beach balls
to act as king and queen. Audrey dives forward, scattering spheroids in all
directions.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“This is
fantastic! Omigod!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack slides
in after, more intent on playing with Audrey.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I don’t
know,” he says. “Do you suppose there’s much privacy to be had here?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Are you
nuts? Not that I don’t appreciate the idea, but someone could come busting
through those curtains at any second.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Which
makes it all the more exciting.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Jack! What
have I done to you? You used to be such a Boy Scout.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">He lowers
the strap on Audrey’s top and nibbles on a nipple. “Boy Scouts gotta earn their
merit badges some way.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“You are a
bad boy and don’t stop that because it feels <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wonderful</i>.” She reaches down to stroke his crotch, but stops when
she hears a high-pitched whimpering.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Is that
you?” asks Jack.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Well I’m
sure glad it’s not <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you</i>,” says Audrey.
“Wait a minute. If this is the back bedroom, then the window should be right
behind this curtain.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">She finds a
spot where two blankets overlap, pulls them apart to reveal Venetian blinds,
then peeks between two of the blinds and lets out a gasp.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Oh my
God!” she whispers.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack slips
in next to her and takes a look. Brigit is standing with her hands on the edge
of the hot tub. She’s still wearing the pink jacket, but her panties and jeans
are around her ankles, her white ass aimed at the Salinas foothills. Thompson,
clothed in a long woolen coat, is fucking her from behind.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Juh-ee-sus!” whispers Audrey.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Hearing
Brigit’s familiar pantings, Jack feels an odd twinge of jealousy. This feeling
lessens greatly when Audrey takes his hand and slides it beneath her golden
skirt.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The climax
of their hurried session arrives with the wail of a saxophone, followed by a
steadily expanding drumbeat. After reattaching all of her clothing, Audrey
takes a peek out the window and discovers that their personal porn stars have
vacated the carport.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Show’s
over,” she says. “Let’s go drum!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack
finishes buckling his belt and smiles, then waves her into the tunnel.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“You’re
insatiable,” says Audrey.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">After
ping-pong balls and frogs, they enter the drum room to find a short, stocky man
with spiky blond hair standing at center, blowing free-form variations on a
baritone sax as the Monkeys maintain a rolling beat. Audrey grabs a pair of
hand cymbals and continues her belly-dancer act. Jack feels a tingle of
possession, knowing that those fleshy acres are all his. He sidles next to
Constance, who is working a pair of congas like a short-order cook flipping
hotcakes, and taps at a pair of bongos as he gets the lowdown.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“His name’s
Mack,” she reports. “He came from Modesto with Terra’s cousin Shannon – the shy
djembe in the armchair.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack sifts through
the blacklight fuzz to find a handsome, big-boned Irish girl in the far corner
with a head of thick burgundy hair and a fetchingly upturned nose. She pats her
drumhead every few seconds, like a swimmer dipping a toe into the water.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Willie did
this with electric guitar once,” says Constance. “It works well as long as you
stick to one instrument. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">This</i> guy
rocks!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Mack has
worked himself into a Coltranean lather, bending backward to release a long
scream to the ceiling, then tucking himself back together to drop sweet little
blurts into the stew, sweat beading up on his forehead. Freed of the chordal
restraints of bandmates, he must be in riffer’s heaven.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack lends
a lusty eye to Audrey, who is swinging her hair like a banshee as she punishes
a tambourine. The illicit sex and costumery has delivered her to a realm even
further out than her usual extremes, and he loves her even more for that rare
capacity. He flexes his fingers and sets to work on his bongos.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">With the
novelty of the saxman, the session continues for another half-hour. Mack takes
a deep inhale and blows his way through a final fusillade, hands flying over
the keys, then literally screeches to a halt and stands bent over, gasping for
breath. The Monkeys abandon their instruments to pound him appreciatively on
the back.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Long lost
in his rhythmic pursuits, Jack is surprised to find Brigit kneeling next to the
armchair, chatting with Shannon. He feels very uncertain as to where he stands
in this situation. He has dared to mess with a British woman’s delusions and
now, thanks to Thompson’s outdoor ministrations, has been proven “wrong.” With
Kirsten somewhere along these catacombs, he may soon be proven “right” – and
it’s very dangerous to be right. He notes that Constance and Willie have met at
the tunnel entrance and are about to assume a crawling position, so he rushes
in beside them and tries to lose himself in the herd.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Sated with
pot, sex and drumming, Jack is now craving food, so he returns to the munchies
room and finds that several others have beaten him there. He locates a salad of
chicken curry, mushrooms and beans and falls in love, perching on a cushion as
he wolfs down a heaping bowlful. Mentally speaking, he has had just enough pot
to be dabbling with that time-wormhole phenomenon, but otherwise seems to be
floating along rather nicely. But where the hell is Thompson?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“So Ben
tells me you’re his A-one pupil.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Gina
Scarletti has shuffled next to him with a plate of eggplant casserole. She
smiles, causing her dark eyes to arch upward in a most fetching fashion.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I suppose
I am,” says Jack. “Did he give you any reasons?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“He says
that you see things that the average person doesn’t. And you’re amazingly
adaptive.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I wish
there were some things I could see at this party.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Ha!
Judging by your date, I’d say you’re seeing plenty.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Amen,
sister,” says Jack. “But there are other things. Demons in the walls.” He waves
his fingers, spooky-like.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Ah. So can
I ask <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you</i> something?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Sure.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Am I doing
the right thing? Marrying Ben?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“No.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">This serves
to widen Gina’s eyes – yet another touching effect.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“To call
what you are doing ‘right’ is to compare it to an answer on a history test. It
demeans the size and wonder of the thing. You are not just getting the best man
in Northern California, the most <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">evolved</i>
human being that I know, you are getting someone whose very spirit grows miles
wider whenever the subject of Gina Scarletti comes up. And, in a way, you’re
saving his soul.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Gina hides
half of her face with a hand, feigning embarrassment. “You certainly have a way
of putting things.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Thanks.
I’m also stoned. But also grateful. You have shed a ton of light on the life of
a great man, and we are all enjoying the fireworks.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Gina kisses
him on the cheek. “Thanks, Jack.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“You’re
welcome. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to see about getting much more
stoned.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Before you
find the demons in the walls.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Exactly.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack
trudges through the Styrofoam snow to the intersection, where the floor is
losing the battle to ping-pong balls, black balloons and packing peanuts. He is
arrested by the image of two butts – one red and spangled, the other bearing a
long coat-hanger mouse’s tail – gathered at the entrance to the front tunnel. A
steady crackling emanates from said tunnel, as if someone were rhythmically stomping
on a pile of leaves.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack
approaches the pair and asks, “What goes here, lads?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Shh!” says
Ivan. “You don’t want to interrupt the show. Here…”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">He offers
the lower curtain-crack (the upper being occupied by the red queen). It takes a
few seconds for Jack’s eyes to adjust to the eery lava-lamp glow, but gradually
he makes out a pair of thick white legs, spread in a vee across the mouth of
the tunnel, and a darker figure like a tree-trunk between them, pounding away
like a battering ram as the bubble wrap cries out in fits of static.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Ho-lee
shit,” Jack murmurs.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Whatever
are you looking at?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">It’s that
posh British accent again, always tickling at his ear. He realizes that he has
just been vested with tremendous power. He is the only thing standing between
Brigit and the truth. Make some horrible ruckus, tackle limey-girl to the
ground, and the awful vision of boyfriend’s dick pounding another’s pussy goes
away, an unfounded myth. Jack steps aside and cedes the peephole.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Brigit
bends to the spot, levels her eyes to the gap and peers in as Jack ticks off
the Five Steps of Carnal Shock. Eyes adjust. A smirk at the sight of a humping
couple. Sudden identification of Latino male buttocks. Increase in heart rate
and respiration.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The next
step is the wild card: big flaming confrontation or crestfallen retreat? Brigit
goes for the latter, breathing in hard pants, wiping her face with a hand and
racing toward the smokes tunnel. The intersection turns into an audio chamber.
The left channel brings an accelerating drumbeat of popping bubble wrap; the
right a high-pitched sobbing; the left a duet of moaning female and grunting
male as orgasm arrives; the right a mournful whimpering.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Bra-<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">voh</i>!” whispers Troll, eye still fixed to
the upper gap. He sees Jack and says, “What’s wrong with Spice Girl?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Nothing I
can fix. Because I’m right.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Yaknow,”
says Troll. “Sometimes you don’t make sense.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Red queen
and dormouse trundle off to the munchies room for a post-coital snack. Jack
considers his situation, and realizes that sooner or later he has to go after
Brigit, because even though he’s right, he’s all she’s got.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The
barometer cranks up to full squint as Jack crawls into the black balloons,
thinking what a perfect symbol they make for smokers’ lungs. Brigit is nowhere
among them, so he continues into the colored fog, detecting a cat-like mewling
from the far end. He finds Audrey in the armchair, Brigit strewn across her lap
like a Pietá. It’s the redhead menage a tois of his dreams, only Brigit is
hardly up to it, her head nestled against Audrey’s bare shoulder as she cries
out all her stupid mistakes. The similarity of the two is uncanny; a
psychoanalyst would have a field day with this. He crouches beside the chair to
get the lowdown from Audrey.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“How is
she?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“From what
I’m assuming just happened, better than <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I</i>
would be.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Brigit lets
out a fresh gush. “Oh Jack! You were right. Oh God oh God oh God. Could I be
any more of a…of a…” And then back to Audrey’s shoulder.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Besides
the sheer logistics,” says Audrey, “I’m wondering how he’s doing this <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">physically</i>.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“A little
pharmaceutical assistance,” says Jack.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Oh <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that’s</i> just <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">lovely</i>.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Brigit
raises her head and aims a red-hot stare down the tunnel.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Fucking <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">bastard</i>! Too bad I can’t fuck his
house-sitter again.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">She returns
to her principal occupation of moisturizing Audrey’s shoulder. When Jack lifts
his eyes to Audrey’s face, he can see the little bits of revealed truth
striking her surface like asteroids.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Only knew
her from Oregon?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I…”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Leave,
Jack. Get out.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Are you…”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“We’ll be
fine here, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">without</i> you, Jack.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">He backs
through the fogged spotlights like a rock star being booed off the stage. For
two weeks, one time in his entire life, he was a dawg, and now he will be
punished. He takes a last glance at the belly-dancer belly that he may never
touch again. It really is a shame.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">He crawls
as morosely as one can through the black, black balloons, and emerges at the
intersection to find Kirsten curled up next to the signpost, sound asleep. He
sits next to her and notices that one ample white breast is hanging out of her
low-cut sweater. After some deliberation he reaches over to see if he can pull
her sweater back into place, but Kirsten grabs his hand and pulls it directly
to her nipple.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Naughty
boy!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Seeing that
her eyes are still closed, he says, “Kirsten? It’s not Thompson.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“That’s
okay.” She cultivates a sleepy smile. “We just had some tequila shots, and I
just feel like fucking everybody. I think I just fucked some bubble wrap!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">She
giggles, then seems to droop back toward sleep. “Awfully tired, though.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Honey? Can
I get you to crawl a little further?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Will you
fuck me?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Sure.
Right after we crawl.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Hoh-kay.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">She flops
onto her hands and knees like a drunken seal, then slogs her way through the
ping-pong balls. At long last she makes it to the playroom and swan-dives onto
the mattress.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Fuck now?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Sure,
honey. But first let’s get you a pillow.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Ooh!
Nasty!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Right.” He
finds a cushion against the wall, lifts her head and slips it underneath.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Silly!”
says Kirsten, grinning into the cushion. “S’posed to put it under my <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ass</i>.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I’ll be
right back,” he whispers. “I’m going to get you some <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">toys</i>.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Kirsten
raises one fist and says “Yes!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">By the time
Jack hits the ping-pong trail, she’s already snoring. Then he hears the sound of
angels singing.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">After the
frogs announce his approach, Jack pokes his head into the drum room to find
three white bowls on a table, glowing in the blacklight. The white queen, the
March hare and the mad hatter run short, thick rods around their edges, producing
pure beams of sound that mix and blend in the air. Then the rod-bearers begin
to sing along, matching the tones of the bowls and then drifting high and low
to create grand choral harmonies. A male voice quivers in and out of
dissonance, creating an edge that sounds like Scottish bagpipes.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Ah, thinks
Jack. A balm for my wicked, wicked soul. He settles on a couch, dangles his arm
over the side and is surprised when his fingers settle on the tip of a bottle.
Even more surprised when he fishes it up and finds his Gewürztraminer, still
half-full. The bottle speaks to him. It says, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Drink me</i>. So he does.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack comes
to at the sound of Mack’s saxophone, running up and down the angel-chord like a
caffeinated mountain goat.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Oh my
God!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">This
declaration comes from a woman just entering the room: burgundy-haired Shannon,
the sax-player’s girlfriend.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I was
crawling past the signpost, and someone reached out of the wall and grabbed my
ass! When I turned around, all I could see was this crazy smile, and this man asked
me if I wanted to fuck. Like he was asking me for the time! So I… I got here as
fast as I could.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Terra
raises a finger very queen-like and says, “There is a dawg loose among the
monkeys!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">A short
scream emanates through the tunnels, and soon the frogs are announcing another
entrance: Constance, minus the mad hat, her blonde hair flying all over the
place.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Dammit!
Dammit!” She stands and claps the dust from her clothes. “I went to get some
munchies, and some A-hole was hiding under the table. He grabbed my leg, and
then made several very specific anatomical suggestions. When I realized it
wasn’t you, honey – no offense…”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“None
taken,” says Willie.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“…I
scrammed on outta there.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Okay,”
says Terra. “It’s obvious we’re not going to have any peace till we find this
character. Why don’t we spread out through the tunnels? If anybody spots him,
just let out a monkey-yell and wait till the rest of us get there.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The Monkeys
express their unity of purpose by letting out high-pitched chimp noises. Jack
follows the caravan, feeling a little too drunk to be very effective, and takes
a left toward the playroom – mostly because he has to use the adjacent
bathroom. When he pops in among the playballs, he finds Gina Scarletti, playing
with a Slinky.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Hey.
What’s all the hubbub?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Apparently,”
says Jack, “there is a pervert afoot.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Thompson.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Oh. Ben’s
told you?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“The man’s
a legend.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Well,
after screwing his way through two mistresses, he is now prowling the tunnels
looking for more.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Ah. The
demon in the walls.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Exactly.
And the demon’s got Viagra.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Oh,” she
says. “That’s just lovely.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“So where’s
Ben?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“At my
house, getting more wine.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“All things
considered, maybe you’d better go there too.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Ye-es.
There’s a back way to my house through the garden. God, what a jerk.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Amen.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">He escorts
Gina to the intersection (thinking it more seemly this time to crawl <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ahead</i> of the woman). Gina takes a left
toward the front door; Jack continues to the smoking room to check on his
redheads. He hasn’t heard any monkey noises, so perhaps Thompson has given up
on his quest.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The smoking
room is bereft of anything – even smoke. Jack sits in a chair at the
foil-covered table to catch a breath. He takes a pull from the hookah pipe and
gets nothing. Then he notices that the curtains behind the table have been
messed with, revealing a strip of window glass. He pulls on one side of it and
finds a rather stunning sight.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">An
impressive fire fills the spirit garden pit, unleashing long whips of orange
flame. Just over the fence, he sees the silhouette of Gina Scarletti’s hair.
She holds up her hands to either side in a posture of surrender.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">On the far
side of the fire is Thompson Flores, fully naked, his skin colored orange by
the flames, his right hand stroking a massive erection. He teeters in Gina’s
direction like a Frankenstein’s monster, wearing a look of demonic possession.
Whether from sheer fright or the surrounding fences and bushes, Gina appears to
be frozen in her spot.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack shakes
the window, searches for handles or latches, but can’t seem to get it unlocked.
He’s too far away to be heard, and a dash through the tunnels would take too
long.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">When he
looks back outside, he finds that Thompson has shifted his attention – and for
good reason. Audrey has appeared before the statue of Lakshmi, dancing like
Salome as she pulls the veils from her outfit and tosses them, one by one, to
the ground. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">This</i>, thinks Jack, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">is precisely what I deserve</i>.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Audrey
undoes her top and flings it to the ground at Thompson’s feet, beckoning him
forward with the general motion of a backstroke. When he turns to look back at
Gina, Audrey calls him again, then turns around, bends over at the waist and
pulls off her skirt.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">This,
finally, is too much to ignore, and Thompson walks her way, like a man in a
dream. By the time he arrives, Audrey has dropped to her knees. She welcomes
his cock with both hands, and gives it a couple of pulls before inserting it
into her mouth. Thompson arches backward in ecstasy, eyes toward the stars.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack has
always made fun of dramatic types who use the phrase “like a knife through the
heart,” but now he knows exactly what they mean. He can’t seem to breathe, and
has the sudden urge to punch a fist through the window.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Which is
when a phantom-like streak of pink flies from the bushes and a shower of red
sparks explodes over Thompson’s head. He takes a single step and keels over,
crashing to the ground. Jack realizes he’d better get out there; he
speed-crawls the murderously convoluted tunnels, sprints across the lawn and
bursts into the garden.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Thompson is
out cold, flat on his back over the concrete pentagram, his forehead marked by
a lightning-shaped line of blood, his penis still straight as a flagpole.
Audrey, still naked, kneels at his side, a finger to his throat.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Pulse is
okay. He’s breathing all right. We’d better get him a blanket. My God, would
you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">look</i> at that thing?” She gives
his erection a slap; it bobs back and forth like a punching clown. “Fucking
asshole. Hi honey.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack wraps
her in a hug. “You are even more amazing than I thought.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I am <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really</i> sorry about the fellatio. I was
working on short notice.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Brigit pops
in next to them. “And I am <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really</i>
sorry about that garden gnome.” She unzips her pink jacket and offers it to
Audrey.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The Monkeys
arrive one at a time, and Audrey has to tell the story several times over.
Constance arrives with a blanket for Thompson, which forms a low-lying tent
over his still-hard member. Ben shows up five minutes later, surprised and
ashamed that he wasn’t there in his fiancée’s moment of need, but Gina seems to
have recovered.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack
fetches Audrey’s golden skirt, then leads her off to the fireside to warm her
up.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“For a
second there, I thought you had dreamed up the ultimate payback.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“It <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">did</i> cross my mind,” she says. “But don’t
worry, I’ll get over it. Brigit filled me in on the details: knight in shining
armor, live sex show, revenge fuck, one-time thing…”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">She gives
his cheek a light slap. “But no more of that! I do not henceforth want to be
the green monster.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Deal.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Audrey
looks back at the slumped form on the pentagram. “Meanwhile, what do we do with
the porn star?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Well.
Assuming he imbibed as much tequila as Kirsten, I think he’ll be out for a
while.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Terra
arrives to hijack their conversation. “So he probably… won’t remember a lot of
this?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Nope,”
says Jack.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“And he’s…
sort of at our mercy. Or lack of same.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Audrey
smiles. “What are you thinking, white queen?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Terra’s
eyes glint in the firelight. “It seems that Constance, at her tutoring center,
does a lot of art projects, and she happens to keep her supplies in her van,
and among said supplies she just happens to have a box of permanent markers.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Ooh!” says
Audrey. “The white queen is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">eee</i>-vil!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Through the
saving graces of a hay-cart, and the sliding properties of a woolen blanket
over hardwood floors, the Monkeys are able to drag Thompson into the playroom
and lay him out along the mattressed floor. Terra brings in a bright desk lamp,
providing an operating-room clarity, then whips aside the blanket. Thankfully,
the erection has subsided.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The female
Monkeys gather at all corners of Thompson’s impressive physique and set to
their work. Audrey chooses the nether strata of the abdomen, drawing an arrow
toward Thompson’s dick and labeling it <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Weapon
of Mass Destruction</i>. Constance uses his chest to construct a brief timeline
of the night’s events: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">8:30 p.m.: shags
Brigit in carport; 10 p.m.: screws Kirsten in front lobby,</i> and so on. Terra
applies a series of insults along his legs: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Too
bad such a looker has to be such an asshole!</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Gina, who
used to work as a nurse, spends this time tending to the point of gnome impact
on Thompson’s temple. After they turn him over, she inscribes a heart on his
left buttock that reads <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">T.F. loves T.F.</i>
Upon the right buttock, Shannon pens <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Viagra:
The Evil Blue Pill</i>. Brigit uses Thompson’s broad back to write a letter of
apology to Esmerelda: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I fell for him
twice, and I believed his lies about you. I hope you can forgive me, but I do
believe you’re better off without him. I have been an awful person, and I
promise never to do something like this ever again.</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Kirsten
lies five feet distant, buried by playballs, snoring away like a buzz-saw.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Found his
clothes!” says Ivan. He tosses a series of damp articles into the room.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Well,”
says Audrey. “We definitely should get him dressed. Best to keep him from
discovering our work for as long as possible.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The logical
manner of delivery is the Porsche. After three cups of coffee, Jack navigates
Highway One, careful of the temporary tire, while Audrey enjoys the distinct
privilege of following them in the Hummer. Thompson shows small moments of
wakefulness, but only enough to shift his position on the passenger seat.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">They pull
up to Big Brown as the sky is lightening with pre-sunrise. Jack undoes
Thompson’s seatbelt and is swinging his legs out when Thompson snorts awake.
Audrey dashes from the Hummer to run interference, popping between them and
putting a hand on Thompson’s cheek.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Morning,
honey. We had to drive you home.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Thompson
manages a bleary smile. “Did we have fun?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Oh, we sure
did, honey. You fucked me in the ass right in front of the whole party. It was
quite a show, you porn star.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Thompson
grins, which causes his eyes to close. “Sweet!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Now I want
you to try to stand with us, honey. My friend and I are going to help you
inside.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack pulls
up the hood of his sweatshirt to hide his face. They prop up one shoulder
apiece and shuffle Thompson up the tiled steps, around the whitewater and onto
the great white couch. Audrey pulls a blanket over him as Jack goes to the
kitchen for grocery bags. He’s halfway up the stairs when Audrey calls, “What
are you doing?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“After that
graffiti job you Monkey Girls just did, I am <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not</i> staying here.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The two of
them manage to pack up Jack’s possessions in a matter of ten minutes, and are
soon headed out the door.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Farewell,
Big Brown,” says Jack. “I’ll miss ya.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I will
too,” says Audrey.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">They pile
into Jack’s compact and are ready to go when he stops and puts the car back
into park.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Sorry.
Forgot something.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">He returns
to the Porsche, opens the trunk and leans inside. Audrey takes a moment to flip
down the car visor and make use of the built-in mirror.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Yikes,”
she mutters. “Lost cause.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack hops
in and hands her a leather pouch. She turns it over to find a Porsche logo.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“What’s
this?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“That,”
says Jack, “is insurance.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack
remembers frighteningly little of the drive back to Salinas. He does recall
hitting that same straightaway and singing “Me and Bobby McGee,” but the rest
is a blur.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">He wakes up
in the playroom between Audrey and Kirsten, and for just a moment he thinks
that something exotic has happened. But the epic party comes back in a flood,
and he kisses Audrey to consciousness. They pop out of their cave to discover
that they can stand, that Wonderland is undergoing a thorough deconstruction.
All blankets and curtains have been folded and stacked, tunnel floor materials
swept into Hefty bags, motion-detector frogs lined up along the conga drums,
and all that remains is a skeleton of small red-and-white fences, the kind used
in horse-jumping competitions.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“So now you
know,” says Terra. She exits the bathroom in jeans and a plaid shirt.
“Actually, loading those fences into my truck is the next assignment. But
first, let’s get you some fresh-brewed coffee!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Audrey
smiles. “You <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">are</i> a goddess.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Queen,
goddess – it’s all the same to me!” Terra recites, and promenades to the
kitchen.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Audrey and
Jack sort their way through the fences to the dining room table, somewhere near
the former munchies room. Brigit sits at a table with Ivan and Troll, chewing
on scrambled eggs and sausages.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“So Jack,”
she says, trying out a Mafia accent. “Did you take care of that thing for me?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Bada-bing!”
says Jack.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“The body
has been disposed of,” says Audrey.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Thank
goodness!” says Brigit, in British. And may I once again issue thirty-two
brands of apology for all the havoc that I have wreaked. Me and my bloody
ginormous piehole.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Yes,” says
Audrey. “But enough! I am officially finished hearing about Jack and other
women.” She grabs Jack by the ear. “Isn’t that right, Mister Teagarden?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Yes,
mistress.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Good.” She
releases him and gives his ear a kiss.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“God,” says
Brigit. “Wouldn’t you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">love</i> to be a
fly on the wall when Thompson strips off for his shower?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I can’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">imagine</i>,” says Ivan.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I should
certainly <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hope</i> you can’t imagine!”
Terra sweeps in with a pair of steaming mugs.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Oh! That
reminds me,” says Jack. “I have some souvenirs.” He heads for the playroom and
returns with the leather pouch, then sorts through it and hands two DVDs to
Brigit.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I’m just
guessing here, but I’d say that Thompson was a bit of a hidden-camera freak. If
it makes you feel any better, you’re the only one who got two DVDs.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I’m so <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">bloody</i> honored. I suppose I would be
smart to toss these before I get another beau.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“And here’s
one for Audrey,” says Jack.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Audrey
stares at the case, wearing an extremely puzzled expression</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Don’t
worry,” says Jack. “I’m also betting he has cameras all over Big Brown. He must
have caught us doing a few ‘scenes.’”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Well!” she
says. “I am both flattered and completely creeped out.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack lifts
out one last DVD and holds it like a winning raffle ticket.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I swear
it’s not me,” says Troll.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I don’t
know,” says Ivan in his pirate voice. “Ya looked pretty sexy last night.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">A big
blonde train wreck staggers from the playroom, shading her eyes from the
sunlight. “Where’s Thompson?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Terra walks
over to help her toward the kitchen. “It’s a long story, honey. Why don’t you
sit down and I’ll get you some coffee.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“And later
on,” says Audrey, “we’re gonna watch some videos!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The
Monkeys, being polite monkeys, fight hard not to laugh.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><br clear="all" style="page-break-before: always;" />
</span>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">U</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Cioppino and Mineral-Talk</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 24.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He’s
back to the Starbucks in Cupertino, and back to the numbers: the
spring-training stats of the San Francisco Giants and Oakland Athletics. Barely
enough to whet the appetite of his deprived left hemisphere (he’s been reading
a book on brain function), but he’s afraid to look at the stocks. It’s too
close to the pathos of his pre-Aptos life, and it’s already scary enough just
being here at this same table, gazing across the street at that same Calderian
fountain. He does find some satisfying sense of mathematical process in
earned-run average and on-base percentage. Perhaps he could get a job with the
Bill James Baseball Abstract.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He
is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not</i> drinking an Americano. After
the coffee bar at Aptos, he would not be caught dead with one. He’s drinking a
chai. This serves as a spicy little reminder that he is fundamentally a
different person. This and the occasional spicy text message from Audrey. He
will never, ever see the world in the same way. He thinks of the burning house,
in the falls at Multnomah. He thinks of the Imp of the Perverse. He thinks of
Ben saying, “Don’t you dare.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Still.
He finds himself at war with several real-life enemies. The door that Thompson
opened with his exquisite quarterly analysis has not been slammed shut, thanks
to the artistic endeavors of the Monkey Girls. He envisions his immaculate
report circulating the halls at C-Valve, its creation credited to some phony
accounting consultant dreamed up by Thompson.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">His
severance package runs dry in two months, which will severely curtail his
ability to throw money into the black pit that used to be his house. Thanks to
the global plunge in housing prices, his suburban ranch-style abode – smack in
the center of what was once the most costly real estate in the world – is now
worth less than the money he still owes on it. He is not alone. Foreclosures
pepper the Valley like rapidly breeding feral cats. After severance comes
unemployment insurance. Whether this will be enough to fund an
already-questionable enterprise, is… questionable.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Meanwhile,
what will he do with his life? He wants to be worthy, he wants his talents to
be exploited. He wants to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">contribute</i>.
Even the lofty endeavor of making love to Audrey LaBrea is not quite enough.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack
returns the sports section to the newspaper holder and deposits his cup in the
wastebasket. Then he heads for De Anza Boulevard – named for a Spanish pioneer
– and the dreary walk home. He’s just passing the library when his cell phone
goes off. He finds a bench near the fountain and answers.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Hey! Ben!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“How’s the
Silicon Valley outcast?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Ha! Yeah.
Just thinkin’ about that.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Good!
We’re on the same wavelength. Hey, any chance you could run by the house
tonight? Seven o’clock? Gina gets these urges to prove her heritage, and
tonight it’s cioppino. I think we’re gonna need some help.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Even as he
speaks, Jack is forming the kind of agenda fully rationalized by this offer. To
drive the hill early (to beat the traffic), to walk the beach, to grab a
Peruvian at the coffeehouse.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I’m there!
Only… where’s there?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“That’s
right! You’ve never seen the place, have you? The address is seven ninety eight
Lusterleaf Drive. You take State Park off the highway, and…”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Stop right
there. I’m at the library. I’ll look it up.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Oh, you
crazy kids and your Internet. But give me a call if you get lost. It’s a little
tricky.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Will do.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">A dinner
invitation might seem pretty pedestrian, but for Jack it offers the opportunity
to answer a mystery. So open about every other aspect of his life, Ben has
never had his A-one pupil over to his place of residence. Jack takes the
familiar route toward Big Brown, heads left at the turnoff instead of right,
zips through the intersection at the Safeway, finds Lusterleaf three blocks
uphill and takes a right. The street follows a serpentine path into the Aptos
hills, offering stunning vistas of the beachside neighborhoods across the
freeway. Just before the surface turns to gravel, Jack spots a dirt driveway to
his left marked 798. He follows it down, around and up to a three-level
structure of steeply angled roofs and cedar-shake siding.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">When he
arrives at the top of the front steps, he finds a large deck running in a
backward el along the length of the house. The surface is cut out every 15 feet
to make way for five different trees: a live oak, a madrone, a big-leaf maple,
a bay and a redwood. The live oak is massive, spreading its branches over the
corner of the el in a protective umbrella. As he nears the porch, Jack notices
the condition of the surface, coated with a golden tan stain that makes the
wood look like new.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The wide
front door is hewn from redwood burl, treated with a dark varnish that gives it
the look of unsweetened chocolate blushing in embarrassment. The door is
bracketed by tall, narrow windows emanating a blue light. Looking closer, he
finds that the light comes in circles. Ben opens the door and catches him in
his study.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Yes!
Bottles. Cobalt. Can’t tell you how much pretentious French water I had to buy
to fill up these cabinets. Then I sealed up the back with Plexiglas. You should
see them in the morning when the sun cuts through. Yowza!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Hi Ben,”
says Jack.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Ben laughs.
“Forgive me. I turn into a freakin’ tour guide around here.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack finds
his nostrils filling with tomato, garlic, oregano and ocean.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Wow! That…
Wow!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“We’re just
about to eat. Come on in and greet the girls.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack notes
the plural, which is quickly explained by the sight of Suzanne Brewer at the
counter, filling a wine glass. Out of her usual retro gear – into a pair of
jeans and a white sweater – she looks like a drab cousin of herself.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Suzanne!”
Jack storms over to give her a hug. Gina Scarletti, shadowing the stovetop,
feigns annoyance.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Not even
married yet, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">already</i> being
ignored.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack’s not
biting. He needs to hear of musical adventures. “Going north or south?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“North,”
says Suzanne. “Ben came to Mr. Toots last night and insisted I stay in town for
this dinner.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I’m so
sorry I missed you! I haven’t checked your website for a while.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“No sweat.”
She lifts her fingers in a spell-casting wave. “We will get you eventually.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack
U-turns to give Gina a kiss on the cheek. “Sorry, Gina. How are you?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Well <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">now</i> I’m fine. Hmm. I think it’s about
ready.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack takes
note of the stove area, which is surrounded by walls of brick the color of
sunshine. “Wow. Pretty cool.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Salvaged
from an apartment building in Tacoma, Washington,” says Ben. “Circa 1913. They
had a fire five years ago – too much water damage to salvage the joint. Got
those bricks for a song.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Wow,” says
Jack. “So you did this all yourself?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Gina
chuckles. “You ain’t seen <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">nothin’</i>
yet. Tell you what. Why don’t we do this buffet-style? Everybody grab a bowl.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack
fetches a bowl from the table and Gina fills it up, ladling from the bottom of
the pot where all the sea-creatures lurk. His first few bites draw calamari,
mussels, clam and some kind of whitefish. The broth is a thick, creamy red with
an irresistible tang.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Mamma
mia!” he says. “This is heaven.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Grazie,”
says Gina. “Once in a while, a gal’s gotta prove she’s Roman Catholic.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“So where
are you headed next, Suzanne?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Suzanne has
to wait until she finishes with a chunk of eel. “San Rafael. This groovy hippie
bookstore where they host regular concerts.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“God bless
Marin County. Geez, I might just drive up. I been trapped in Silicon Valley,
and I’m starved for culture.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I’d <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">love</i> that!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Besides, I
don’t know too many musical geniuses. I’m just trying to tap into your power.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Power’s
feeling pretty weak lately.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Suzanne
has had some auto misadventures,” says Ben.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack offers
an empathizing wince.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I am <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so</i> going to pay you back for that
alternator,” says Suzanne.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“You are <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not</i> going to pay me back,” says Ben.
“And that’s an order.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Jerk,”
says Suzanne. “Always forcing his generosity on people.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The talk
continues as the bellies expand, further assisted by Caesar salad, tiramisu and
a quartet of cappuccinos that Ben proudly concocts with his home espresso
machine. At the peak of group satiation, Ben makes a small theatrical
production out of folding his hands, and returns to his tour-guide patter.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Well! Now
that we’ve got you too stuffed to make a run for it, I have a little
show-and-tell. Please – follow me.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">He walks
them around the corner and flips on the light, revealing a room with some
astounding features. The back wall, ten feet high and thirty long, is covered
in two-foot squares of slate, gray and black with hints of russet, sienna,
occasional veins of green. The colors change as you walk past, like oil spilled
on asphalt. Running along a horizontal line at the midpoint of floor and
ceiling is a series of checkerboarding squares – one under, one over –
displaying surfaces of vibrant, otherworldly color.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Welcome to
the batcave,” says Gina.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Forgive
her,” says Ben. “I spent many more years with this wall than with Gina, so she
is painfully jealous. In fact, I spent most of the ‘80s on this. Each of the
squares holds a particular mineral found in the United States. As part of my
post-traumatic therapy, I ventured to various dig-your-own sites across the
country, then brought my treasures back here for slicing, polishing and
fitting. Did all the work right in this room. I have since moved the equipment
to the garage, for which Gina is very grateful.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">He approaches
the first square, a cloudy pink resembling frozen grapefruit juice. “Rose
quartz. The Grafton Mine, New Hampshire.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The next
square offers lava-lamp rings of black and green, a deep hue the color of
shamrocks. “Malachite. Bill’s Gems and Minerals, Magdalena, New Mexico.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Square
number three is a sky blue, ranging to the kind of purple that same sky would
offer up an hour after sunset. “Labradorite. The Woodward Ranch, Alpine,
Texas.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Number four
serves up rings of blood red, cream white and several shades between.
“Carnelian, a variation of chalcedony. Place called the Rockhound – a bed and
breakfast, believe it or not, in Gila, New Mexico.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The fifth
square is a bright yellow, with shadings of pumpkin. “Limonite. Tempe, Arizona,
the Fat Jack Mine. The place was, quite literally, a dump: piles of crystals
that gold miners tossed aside on their way to the good stuff.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">He leads
them through ten more squares, then sits them around a long glass coffee table
spotted with white, green and brown. Gina serves them a dessert wine in tiny
glasses.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I hate to
pack any more information into my small, small brain,” says Jack. “But what’s
the deal with this table?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Ah yes!”
says Ben. “Got this from a shop on the Oregon Coast. A young lady there took
bits of sea glass and encased them in clear casting resin. From what I
understand, you pour the stuff into a mold, let a layer of it dry solid, then
scatter bits of glass and pour another layer, et cetera. It is, however,
extremely toxic. You have to be awfully careful.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Awesome,”
says Jack.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The
cioppino and mineral-talk have left everyone a little sluggish, and the
conversation comes to a halt. Ben lets the pause have its way for a while, then
sets down his glass and places a hand on either knee.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“All this
rock stuff has little to do with the reason for this gathering. But for anyone
who sees the house for the first time, it’s a bit of a necessary evil.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Nonsense,”
says Gina. “He cherishes any opportunity to show off his rocks.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“There are
so <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">many</i> places to go with that comment,”
says Jack. “But I am just going to pass.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Ben breaks
out his trademark laugh, a husky growl. “I thank you for your discretion. And
now, it’s time for me to spill my guts, and tell you a story that may have
considerable bearing on your respective futures.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">There is,
actually, one connection between this story and the story of the wall. Rocks.
Soon after the fire, I rented a cottage near San Gregorio, and I made it my
assignment to walk the beach every day. I think you know, beaches are tonics,
and I sorely needed to keep moving or die. I began to tire of the beach at San
Gregorio, though, and I began to wander south, eventually to discover the beach
where we do the house-burnings. For a man desperately seeking respite, that
beach was a godsend. The sandstone cliffs were high and grand, and blocked out
the treacherously evil world, leaving me alone with my thoughts. And I began to
find some fascination with the rocks that washed up at the ocean’s edge. I
began to take interesting specimens home, and found a guidebook so I could put
names to their faces. Rocks were something I had never really considered
before. I began to notice that a lot of my fellow rockhounds were older men,
and came to the conclusion that this interest was related to an increasing awareness
of mortality. Rocks are the oldest things that we come into contact with, and
they are everywhere around us.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">You’ve seen
how it is on that beach. The surf can be savage, especially in a storm. I found
additional diversion in the objects that washed up. Pieces of sea glass, the
occasional Japanese net float, life jackets, surf boards, a paddle, a buoy –
one time an entire rowboat. Having no desire to drag a boat up a trail, I left
it there, and the next day it was gone. I indulged in the happy vision of some
local teenager finding it on Pescadero Beach and rowing it all around the
lagoon.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">On a day in
late autumn, I was walking along the shore, returning to the trail, when I
spotted a yellow rope sticking out of the sand. Well! Naturally I had to inspect,
and when I gave it a tug, up came one corner of a fishing net. Well of course <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">then</i> I had to find out what was in the
net. Problem was, the net was buried in a layer of rocks just beneath the sand.
I set to work digging it free, but I kept jamming my fingertips against the
rocks. It was pretty brutal. And it was getting dark. And cold. A jogger
cruised by, giving me a look like I was crazy. Then I caught a sharp edge with
my index finger and began to bleed.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">None of
this mattered. Certain treacherous thoughts kept me from leaving that beach. If
I came back the next day, the net, like the rowboat, would be gone. If I read
in the papers about some surfer digging up Jimmy Hoffa’s mummified corpse. Or a
Japanese sub from WWII. Or a monstrous fish long thought to be extinct.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">So I dug.
And I pulled on the net. And dug some more. And shook my aching fingers, tossed
aside a thousand pebbles, and cursed. And dug some more. I was almost set to
call it a night when I gave a powerful, pissed-off yank and it all came up:
sand, rocks, fishing net, and one blue-and-white, mid-sized plastic cooler.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Well
whoop-di-freakin’-do. Right? Local Man Unearths Pastrami Sandwiches. But of
course by <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">then</i> I had to know the
exact depth of my defeat, what species of moldering, chitter-infested former
picnic lay inside. So I held my breath and gave the latch a tug. A quick check
with my keychain flashlight revealed beer. To be exact, a twelve-pack of
Budweiser. My relief at the absence of spoiled foodstuffs introduced a very bad
idea into my head. I was going to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">get</i>
something for my labor.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">I rescued a
can from the soggy, disintegrating carton, reached for the tab and found
nothing but smooth surface. So I turned it over and found the same thing. It
was like finding a baby with no belly button. Then I noticed how light it was –
not at all like something holding a liquid. I tried the flashlight again, and
found a seam across its midsection. I gave a nudge here, a tug there, then
grabbed the bottom half as I unscrewed the top. I pulled the two halves apart
and discovered that each contained a tightly packed roll of paper. Prying the
top roll from its container, I saw the face of Benjamin Franklin and nearly
passed out.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">I lugged
the cooler to the top of the trail, set it on my passenger seat and drove home.
When I arrived, I had to remind myself that a man carrying a cooler is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not</i> an unusual or suspicious sight. Once
inside, I locked myself in the bathroom, shut the window and counted my booty.
Two hundred and twelve thousand dollars.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The next day,
I worked up the nerve to abandon my cooler – deep in the corner of my bedroom
closet – while I went to the library at Half Moon Bay to search the newspapers
for any crime that might match up with my treasure. I found nothing. Then I
checked out every book I could find on crime in general and bank robberies in
specific. When I got home, I allowed myself one quick peek at the green, just
for reassurance. I immediately made it a rule: one peek only, once a day, and
only when no one else was around.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">About one
thing, I had already made up my mind: I was keeping it. Screw this bullshit Boy
Scout ideal of turning it in to the authorities. This came nine months after
the fire, and it provided more than just a little karmic payback. It convinced
me that the world was not composed entirely of treachery and disaster, that to
every great tragedy there might be an unexpected windfall, a sunny day that
takes away your breath. Maybe a beautiful woman who makes your heart do
gymnastics. And that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">these</i> – or even
the possibility of these – were the reasons you went on living.</span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 24.0pt;">So I took my robbery books
to the general store, ordered a huge cup of java and dove in. The patterns were
immediately clear. Those who gave themselves away did so in the classic ways:
rivalry with cohorts, too many witnesses (too many mouths) and, primarily,
ostentation. Blessed with a situation in which I was absolutely alone in the
world, and had no witnesses to my find, I had only one problem to prevent: no
showing off. And I had one quite famous example to follow: The Great Train
Robbery, in which the British perpetrators kept their secret for decades simply
by giving away no sign of financial gain.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">I kept my
job. I kept my little cottage. For the big layouts, I continued using my
checking account. But for everyday expenses, I dipped into the cooler.
Groceries. New tires. Dinner on a Saturday night. Only a psychic could have
detected a difference in my spending patterns – and even that could be
explained by a larger-then-expected insurance settlement.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Meanwhile,
my checking account grew, and eventually I was able to move to Aptos, to take
on the mortgage payments for this house, to pay for tuition and textbooks, and
eventually to earn my psych degree at UC Santa Cruz. After that, I became a
life coach.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Suzanne and
Jack are both feeling a little astonished and disoriented – and halfway
expecting Ben to confess that he made it all up. This is not the kind of thing
that happens in the life of a real person. It’s apparent from Gina’s bemused
expression that she has already heard the story. Ben is taking in their
reactions with an excited attention; he has obviously had few opportunities to
relate this particular series of events. He takes a sip from his wine and
plants it on the table, signalling the second phase of his presentation.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“So here’s
where I get all Wizard of Oz on your ass. I have had occasion to give out
portions of my cooler fund to noble causes. One of these was Barbie, when she
first moved to New York to further her career. The money comes with the
understanding that it will be used in the same manner that I used it. Just for
the everyday stuff. You want a new car, you save up your own money, and write a
check from your account. No spending large amounts of cash. No ostentation.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack
realizes that Ben is giving them <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">instructions</i>.
He feels a flush of heat rising to his face, and takes a sip of wine just to
have something to do. Ben shifts so he’s facing Suzanne across the table.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Suzanne, I
don’t need to explain my decision to include you. You are extraordinarily
talented. Your pursuit of your dream is both inspiring and courageous. It was
the news of your recent travails, in fact, that inspired me to fast-forward
this meeting. I was originally going to wait until after the wedding. But when
I saw how dire your situation was…”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I…” That’s
all she can get out, because she’s crying.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I’m giving
you twenty thousand dollars. I’m giving the same amount to Jack.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Despite
proverbial mandates regarding gift horses, Jack is unable to keep the word from
his lips. “Why? I mean, why me?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Well may
you ask. Your cause is not so clear-cut as Suzanne’s. But I do believe there’s
something equally of value at stake. I realize that our New Year’s escapades
cost you any future you might have had with numbers. But I think that you don’t
appreciate your own talents. I am a pretty keen observer of human intuition and
empathy, and am generally able to recognize those who have exceptional skills
in these areas. That’s you, Jack. I believe you were a savant just waiting for
the right opportunity to blossom – for the right disaster to thrust you out of
your comfortable existence. The way you took in all of these different lives –
the monkey, the burner, the opera patron – mulled them over, adapted to them,
understood them. In an earlier time, you would have been drafted into a life as
a shaman.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“So that’s
what I’m doing. I’m drafting you. And I know all about your house, your
mortgage, your severance deadline. That’s why I want you to move here, to this
house. I’ll be moving to Gina’s ranch, but we’d prefer to hang onto this place
till the market improves. So we’d like you to be our caretaker, to keep my
mineral squares polished – and to keep a room open for Suzanne, whenever she’s
in town. Meanwhile, I would ask that you take some classes in psychology,
occupational therapy, sociology. Find your niche. You have talents, Jack, and
I’m betting the remainder of my treasure on your devoting those talents to the
betterment of your fellow Californians. Is this all acceptable to you?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">This should
be a difficult and complicated decision. This should take days. But the
barometer in Jack’s head has lined up to perfection, and the gathered light
from 15 mineral squares is brewing inside his brain.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Yes.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Ben raises
his glass and stands. Suzanne and Jack follow.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“To your
futures. Your brilliant futures. Gina – the containers?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Gina goes
to the pantry and returns with two ordinary-looking red aluminum toolboxes.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“So not
that I don’t appreciate it, honey, but any reason for this fancy-ass lunch?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack gazes
past Audrey’s shoulder at the pier outside. A squad of sea lions are waddling
along a series of rafts, begging scraps from the Cannery Row tourists.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“What?
Can’t spend a Benjamin or two on my honey?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Audrey
smiles in her most appealing fashion. “I’m just concerned about your near
future.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Came into
a windfall,” says Jack. “I’ll be staying at Ben’s place for the next couple of
years. Rent-free. And I’m going back to school.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Psychology?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack halts
a forkful of salmon. “Someone told you?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“We’ve all
known it, Jack. For a long time.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack
laughs. “Well I wish someone woulda told <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">me</i>.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Audrey
chuckles. “We didn’t want your girlfriend to get jealous.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Numbers?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Long may
she weep.”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><br clear="all" style="page-break-before: always;" />
</span>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">V</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Beltaine</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 24.0pt;">Jack sits
in a big leather armchair, reviewing his mineral squares like a king surveying
his crown jewels. What makes him feel even more imperial is the occasional
glimpse of Audrey, shuttling between bedroom and bathroom, trying on clothes.
The day’s activities are both formal and casual, and Audrey is taking a
bicameral approach: one distinct outfit for each. Every three minutes, Jack is
treated to a new ensemble, like a pasha reviewing his harem. But Jack has a
major disadvantage: he is so enchanted by the contents, he couldn’t care less
about the packaging. This is not a problem for women. He has watched gal-pals
critiquing each other’s dresses with a frankness that would send a Marine into
tears.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Between
outfits, he reads from a psychology textbook, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mind in Motion</i>. He was able to get in just under the wire for an
introductory course at Cabrillo College, and he can’t quite believe his luck.
The instructor, Paul Giacometti, is also the author of the textbook – but no
vanity project here, it’s used in colleges across the country. The man is
brilliant, and brilliantly funny. For a three-hour evening class, this is
crucial. Plagued by a down-cycle that hits every day at 7 p.m., Jack
occasionally nods off, anyway, but retains every shred of the lecture, as if
he’s just taking it in through the barometer.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The
students are accustomed to excitable continuing-ed types – going <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">back</i> to school being much more
stimulating than having been there all your life. Even so, he’s in danger of
developing a reputation. He chats with “Dr. G” after class, totes around
elective books from the library, and gives class-time answers so elegantly
constructed they may as well be converted to sonnets. He almost feels like he
should tone down his participation so as not to be labeled a showoff (or, God
forbid, a “tool”).</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Jack,”
said Dr. G. “Yours is an exceptional mind. God knows how you’ve come from the
world of accounting with so many intuitive skills. But I have learned not to be
surprised at anything accomplished by the human brain. I want you to do me a
favor, however. I know it’s tempting to back off during classtime, so you won’t
be seen as a teacher’s pet. Well, to put it in modern parlance, screw that. I
want to challenge these kids. Anytime I can take these ideas into a dialogue
with a talented student, it makes things that much more interesting. Who knows?
Maybe we can fool them into thinking they’re watching something on YouTube.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack is
amazed at the feats performed by the human brain, and how quickly it has taken
the place in his heart previously reserved for numbers. As he waits for Audrey,
he re-reads the account of an author who suffered a stroke and lost all of his
language skills. The man painstakingly reconstructed them, using a completely
different section of the brain, and then went back to writing novels.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“So?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">She stands
at the end of the frosted glass table, wearing a black floor-length gown. The
fabric gathers at the center, just beneath her décolletage, and falls in smooth
folds to either side, a series of arched upside-down V’s, one within the next.
Jack is having a hard time finding his breath.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“That’s it.
That’s the one.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">It’s the
first of May, so naturally the weather is stunning.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“What is it
with you and that song?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The trigger
between Kris Kristofferson and the Moss Landing straightaway has become so automatic
that Jack doesn’t even know he’s singing. And there’s one other connection.
This is the spot where the Imp of the Perverse made his first appearance,
daring him to slam into the grill of that approaching truck. Do that now and
the carnage includes Audrey. How horrible would <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that</i> be? Throw in two beloved daughters. He still can’t imagine how
Ben made it out alive.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Jack?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Now he’s
whistling.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Wow.
Sorry. I get so deep in my head these days I just end up being… rude.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Audrey
snakes a hand into Jack’s hair and gives him a scalp-scratch. “My absent-minded
professor. Considering what day it is, I’ll let you pass.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“It’s
momentous. Monumental.” Jack slips into a weepy falsetto. “My little boy,
getting married!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Audrey
gives his scalp a push. “Goofball. I love you.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">She does
this all the time – inserts the three magic words where you least expect them.
It never fails to send a buzz through his neurons.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Why, if I
wasn’t driving…”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“You’d
what? What exactly would you do?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I… I…”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Oh, yeah.
Big talker. So easy to just begin your sentences and let the resident pervert
fill in the blanks. Well I’m <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not</i>
driving, so I’m going to do <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">this</i>.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">She undoes
his fly, pulls out his prick and gives it a few tugs.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I might
even do <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">this</i>.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Audrey
arranges herself so she won’t muss her dress, ducks her head under Jack’s arms
and gives a few tentative licks before swallowing the head.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Now I know
who you are,” he says.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Mmm?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“The Imp of
the Perverted.” He adjusts his left hand on the wheel, wraps his right around
Audrey’s upraised ass, and tries his best to focus on the road. Meanwhile, he
works up a story to tell the police, should that become a necessity.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Audrey,
have you ever thought of getting married again?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Audrey
turns her head to respond, looking very much like she’s talking into a
microphone.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Is this
really the best time to discuss this?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“You have a
distinct rhetorical advantage.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Good
point.” She gives him a squeeze, then continues her ministrations between
phrases.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I do not
believe… that ‘the fourth time’s a charm’ is the generally accepted proverb…
Besides, you and I… have such a deep gravitational pull… that I am not
particularly concerned about making it official… Let’s give it… mmm… another
year and talk about it then. By the way…” She pauses both activities in order
to catch her breath. “I am <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not</i>
telling this story to our grandchildren.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The
combination of artful fellatio, thoughtful discourse, the open road and the
buzz from Audrey’s vocal cords has Jack close to coming.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Audrey…
darling? We’ve got three lanes now. I think if you add some handiwork…”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack pulls
to the center lane, just in case, and he explodes into Audrey’s mouth. She
stays there a while, determined to keep him clean for the day’s activities.
Finally satisfied that she has dispensed with every available sperm, she
carefully tucks him back into place, just as a highway patrol car passes them
on the left. The driver, a steel-jawed white guy with the requisite police
mustache, gives a brief blast on the siren. The catch in Jack’s breath goes all
the way back to that sex-talk from his sixth-grade Sunday School teacher, but
when he looks over, the cop is giving him a shit-eating grin and a hearty
thumb’s-up.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Now he’s
got another challenge: keeping to the road as he and Audrey suffer one of those
uncontrollable fits of laughter. Once he recovers, Jack finds sand dunes to his
right and realizes they’re in Seaside, ten minutes past their turnoff.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Looks like
we’re taking the back way, honey.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Audrey puts
on a miffed expression. “I don’t know <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">what</i>
it is lately with you and directions.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The road
from Monterey to Salinas has become one of Jack’s favorites, a series of long,
serpentine curves whose roadsides remain green for most of the year, thanks to
the invading fogs. They have taken it twice before from Audrey’s place to the
Monkey Tribe. Their little escapade, however, has cost them the cushion that
Jack so carefully built into their schedule, so they pull into the farm road at
the exact time reported on the wedding invitation. Both sides are filled with
parked cars all the way back to Gina’s house, so they have to park there and
take a hurried pace toward Ivan and Terra’s.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">As they
near the hedges at the end of the drive, they hear live music. Jack spots
Suzanne, seated behind her keyboard at the far left corner of the lawn, wearing
yet another early-sixties dress, a black stripe working a spiral from shoulder
to hem against a white background. The lawn is striped in white plastic folding
chairs, twelve rows of ten each, with a wide center aisle. The left and right
margins are ringed by White Horse’s rockstacks, a half dozen on either side,
the size of humans. At the front, he has created a wide altar, ten stacks lined
up together like the pipes of an organ, fronds of pampas stationed like flags
at their bases. At the end of the aisle stand two figures, facing each other,
the left fashioned from light-colored rocks, the right from darker specimens.
Just to clarify the point, someone has affixed white and black ribbons to their
respective “necks.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The place
is packed. Jack and Audrey slide into the back right-hand row. Jack notices
that the rockstack to his right is festooned with wildflowers, their stems
inserted into every available crevice, and takes a look around to see that all
the other stacks are similarly outfitted.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Beautiful
flowers!” says Audrey.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">This causes
the woman in front of them to turn around. It’s Constance.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Thank
you.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Oh!” says
Audrey. “It must have taken you forever. They’re wildflowers, right?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Yes! Only,
wildflowers don’t keep like florist flowers, so I had to gather them all this
morning. Fortunately, I’m kind of a buff, so I know all the local colonies.
Let’s see…” She points to Jack’s rockstack as she names the varieties.
“California poppy, buttercup, Indian paintbrush, iris, larkspur, the very
specific Point Reyes meadowfoam, and, believe it or not – that plain little
yellow one there – the common monkeyflower.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Genius!”
says Jack.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I thought
it was a nice touch. We had to take an extra trip to Moss Landing to get it –
it’s a marsh-dweller – but really, I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">had</i>
to have it. You might have guessed this, but the strewing of flowers is a pagan
tradition for both weddings <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">and</i> May
Day, and we wanted to keep it as local and native as possible. Except for the
flower-girl petals – but even those are from Gina’s rose bushes.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Willie
ducks his head into the conference and offers a not-so-subtle stage aside. “I
am <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so</i> glad you two came along. She’s
been <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">dying</i> to tell someone all this
stuff.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Constance
slaps Willie on the head and then kisses the spot that she slapped. The music
stops, and an extremely cute, befreckled redhead proceeds to the head of the
aisle, carrying a large wicker basket.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Oh!” says
Constance. “That’s Terra’s granddaughter, Erin. Isn’t she a doll?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Erin nods
toward Suzanne like a pro, and Suzanne lights into an unexpectedly Mozartean
divertimento, providing just the right playful air. Not happy to be a mere
postal carrier of petals, Erin dances and spins down the aisle, tossing
handfuls of red and white into the crowd, occasionally landing a few on the
actual bridal path. As she reaches the end, she turns the basket upside-down,
gives the bottom a thorough spanking to unloose all hangers-on, then accepts
her hard-earned applause and sprints offstage to her waiting mother.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Suzanne
waits a few seconds, nods toward someone in the farmhouse window, and launches
into one of her originals, “David.” The intro is a slowly rocking boat, built
on the particulars of Suzanne’s lush chords. She enters as if she’s halfway
into a conversation, asking questions of a one-man audience.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">i am afraid</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">i have
nothing of worth to bring you</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">they all
say</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">i couldn’t
be the one</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">i am alone</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">with no one
to come beside me</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">all have
forsaken</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">and left me
with my thoughts</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The chords
are thickening and building like stormclouds and now they burst into chorus,
Suzanne releasing long, angelic notes.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">but you see
beyond my broken reflection</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">you see
behind my lies</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">you see
beyond our limitations</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">you see my
heart</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The words
are too direct for poetry, but set upon the fingerbeds of the keyboard they <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">become</i> poetry. Jack has never quite
understood this process, and resolves to do some reading on it. Suzanne settles
to an instrumental, working the chorus in broad, spaced-out strokes, and Terra
appears at the front porch in a dress of kelly green, white and green ribbons
woven into her blonde ringlets. As she descends and crosses to the altar, Jack
realizes it’s the dress of the white queen from the New Year’s party, dyed
green. She comes to a stop between the matrimonial rockstacks and raises her
arms, evergreen ribbons trailing from her sleeves. The music stops.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“May the
place of this rite be consecrated for the forces of nature. We gather here in a
ritual of love, with two who would be wedded. Ben and Gina, please come forward
and stand before us.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">She reaches
into a velvet sack at her waist and extracts two brass discs connected by a
leather strap. She dangles them from the strap, lines up their edges and
strikes them together, sending a high, sweet tone over the lawn.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Would you
please stand?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">As he
rises, Jack is surprised to hear neighing, and the stamping of hooves. He turns
to find two tall horses at the end of the driveway, their manes braided with
ribbons of red and green. The far horse bears the auburn coat that must belong
to Fajamur’s Rose. Its companion is a chestnut with a white diamond at the
center of his forehead. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Suzanne
launches a repeat of her chorus as the horses advance to the aisle, revealing
their riders. Atop the chestnut is Ben, wearing a black western suit with a
felt hat, a vest with embroidered patterns in gray, a long silver watch-fob,
and a bolo tie looped through a rhombus of turquoise edged in silver. He looks
remarkably calm in the saddle, thanks to much personal tutelage from the bride.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Atop
Fajamur’s Rose, naturally, is Gina Scarletti, wearing a cream-colored pantsuit
with ivory cowboy boots, a gold necklace with a jade pendant, and a white
duster with Celtic curlicues in moss green. Her hair is tied back with a
scarlet scarf that trails behind her in the wind.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“The scarf
is a Celtic thing,” whispers Audrey. “The bride always wears one article of
scarlet.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Blood,”
says Jack. “The maidenhead.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“No
maidenhead today. Although her name <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">is</i>
Scarletti.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Touché.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The horses
arrive at aisle’s end and settle in as Suzanne returns to the conversational
tone of her verse.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">i am aware</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">of your
creative hand</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">but I don’t
understand</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">why you’d
form me to your plan</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">i am amazed</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">as you draw
me closer to you</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">and my
performance yields</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">to your
consuming love</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">She returns
to the chorus, then weaves it all into a grand, peaceful fade of sound as Ben
and Gina smile at her from their mounts. Terra begins the applause – mostly to
let everybody know it’s okay to clap – and the congregation follows.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Ben
dismounts. He hands the reins to a teenage blonde in British riding gear, who
leads the chestnut to a spot at the far right. The groom offers Gina a hand
down (though she hardly requires one), and she hands the reins to a brunette,
similarly attired, who leads Fajamur’s Rose to the left. Terra unties a stick
from her waist and extends it toward Ben, who digs into his vest pocket,
extracts two gold rings and slips them over the tip.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“A willow
wand,” whispers Audrey.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Ben and
Gina stand before their effigy rockstacks and face each other. Ivan, clothed in
a dark green robe, comes to take the willow wand and hand Terra her bodhran.
She lifts the two-headed tippler and brings it down over the drumface,
unloosing a brief roll of thunder before each of her declarations.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Be with us
here, O beings of the air. With your clever fingers, tie closely the bonds
between these two.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Roll.</span></i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Be with us
here, O beings of fire. Give their love and passion your own all-consuming
ardor.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Roll.</span></i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Be with us
here, O beings of Earth. Let your strength and constancy be theirs for as long
as they desire to stay together.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Now she
strikes the bodhran with three resounding thumps.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Blessed
Goddess and Laughing God, give to these before you, your love and protection.
And all those gathered shall say, ‘Blessed be.’”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The response
is a dud – only a dozen in the crowd realize they’re supposed to repeat the
phrase. So Terra restates it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“And all
those gathered shall say, ‘Blessed be!’”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The
congregation shouts back like they’re at a pep rally: “Blessed be!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“That’s
better,” says Terra. She hands the bodhran to Ivan, takes back the willow wand
and returns to Ben and Gina, who are trying very hard to look at each other
without laughing or crying.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Place your
right hands over this wand and your rings, his hand over hers.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">They do. Ben
takes the opportunity to sneak a kiss.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Now, now,”
says Terra. She sets herself and speaks to the couple.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Above you
are the stars. Below you are the stones. As time passes, remember: Like a star,
your love should be constant. Like a stone, your love should be firm. Be close,
but not too close. Possess one another, but be understanding. Have patience
with each other – for storms will come, but they will go quickly. Be free in
the giving of affection and warmth. Make love often, and be sensuous with each other.
Have no fear, and do not allow the ways or words of others to give you unease,
for the Goddess and the God are with you, now and always."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Terra
raises her eyes toward the audience and says, “The handfasting ritual now calls
for a pause of five heartbeats.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">She places
a hand on her chest and waits, then takes a ring from the wand and hands it to
Gina.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Is it your
wish, Gina, to become one with this man?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Gina smiles
and answers, “Yes.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Then place
the ring upon his finger.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">She does
so. Terra hands the second ring to Ben. The ring holds a green gemstone.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Is it your
wish, Ben, to become one with this woman?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The
enthusiasm of his “Yes!” brings titters from the audience.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Then by
all means,” says Terra, “place the ring upon her finger.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">He does so.
Terra holds their hands together and addresses the congregation.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Do any say
nay?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">She waits
two heartbeats, then raises her arms to the sky. “Then, as the Goddess and the
God and the Old Ones are witness to this rite, I now proclaim you husband and
wife.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Ben doesn’t
wait for an invitation. He jumps to Gina’s side, drops her into a dip and gives
her a good working-over, to a burst of applause and hoots. Ivan dashes behind
the altar, jimmies with something, and two dozen burly pigeons take to the air,
circling the farm three times before departing for Monterey.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Well!”
says Jack.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“The whole
damn coop,” says Audrey, and smiles.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Suzanne
starts into a stride piece that turns out to be “Makin’ Whoopee.” Ben and Gina
separate and race to their respective mounts. They saddle up and trot away down
either side of the lawn, then meet up at the head of the driveway and gallop
away toward Gina’s house.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Fan-<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">tas</i>-stic!” says Jack. “What a show.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">As the
dustclouds settle, Terra gives the bodhran another roll, and Suzanne stops
playing.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Friends!
We are not finished. Our resident artist, White Horse, constructed this ring of
rockstacks as a one-time installation. He now asks that we destroy them. But
please do not bury any small children!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Terra sets
down the bodhran and stands behind the bridal stack as Ivan stands behind the
groom. They count three and send them crashing together in a merry clatter.
Troll and White Horse see to the altar, toppling the dozen component stacks
toward the matrimonial pile. All around the lawn, the guests shout with glee as
they knock their stacks to the ground. Jack turns to get in on the fun, but
finds his stack has been neatly dismembered by Constance and Willie, who are
now hopping around it in a victory dance.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Goddamn
Monkeys,” he mutters.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The crowd
is near-riotous with destructive energy, but fortunately other activities have
been prepared. Next to the gate of the spirit garden, the Monkeys have erected
a Maypole. The pole itself turns out to be a ten-foot bay branch that Ivan
discovered, freshly fallen, while hiking in the woods. They have posted the
base deep into the ground and affixed two dozen multicolored ribbons to the
tip. After much coaching from Terra, they manage to get one person assigned to
each ribbon, twelve of them parading in a clockwise circle, the other twelve
walking counter as they weave in and out of the opposing traffic. A few pileups
ensue, and much giggling, but soon they strike a good rhythm, and as Suzanne
kicks in with a mazurka the rainbow weave works its way quickly down the pole.
Jack spends five minutes navigating a ribbon of lollipop red, then waves Audrey
over for relief. Audrey hands it over to Constance, and returns to find Jack
giving Suzanne a secret salute.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“All right,
pal. What’s this thing between you and Suzanne? You seem <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">awfully</i> chummy lately.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“We’re
planning a bank robbery. Gonna take the money and hide out in Cancun.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Audrey
slaps him on the rump, which really is no punishment at all. A welcome
distraction arrives in the person of Gina Scarletti. Audrey goes for the ring
finger.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“It <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">is</i> an emerald. Stunning!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Gina, who’s
been smiling for hours now, manages to smile even wider. “When you marry a
rockhound, a boring old diamond just ain’t gonna cut it. Fits the May Day
thing, too. Nice work with the pole!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack kisses
her on the cheek. “You’ll be happy to know, there were no fatalities.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Thank <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">goodness</i>.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Hey Gina?”
says Audrey. “I was curious… You’re pretty new to all this hippie-dippie Monkey
stuff. How did you settle on a pagan wedding?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Gina
laughs. “First, may I say how happy I am that none of my devoutly Catholic
relatives are alive. But you know? I’m kind of secular to begin with, and then
I had a long talk with Terra, and when she showed me those vows… they’re
gorgeous. I did make a couple of changes. Some of the language was a little too
Dungeons and Dragons. And there was this reference to ‘non-believers.’ I get
enough of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that</i> crap from the
Catholics. The other thing was, so much of our wedding traditions are pagan to
begin with. Like the cake ceremony – the knife represents the man entering the
woman…”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Yowza!”
says Audrey.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">know</i>. And the tossing of the garter was
the way that an outgoing priestess would pick her successor. Oh look! Here
comes the cake now.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Have you
and Ben made any agreements?” asks Jack.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“One smudge
apiece.” She trots to the table, where Ivan is preparing an enormous burnt
almond cake for penetration.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">After the
Maypole ribbons have reached their end – a squad of four guests gathered around
the pole lacing the last few feet by hand – Willie and Troll dig the pole out
of the ground and hoist it onto a pair of brackets on the garden fence. It
looks like a prize fish. Then they rake the dirt while others bring rocks from
the ruined stacks and build a ring ten feet in diameter. The rest of the
Monkeys attack a woodpile under the carport and eventually assemble a huge
stack of timber at the center of the ring.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">When
everything’s set – Willie and Ivan lurking with cans of lighter fluid – Terra
stands before the ring, plays a roll on the bodhran and throws in one of her
keening soprano yelps. The party guests -–many of their formal outfits gone
completely to pot – gather before their priestess like a football squad
awaiting a pep talk.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“The
Beltaine – bel for ‘lucky,’ taine for ‘fire’ – was lit on May Day in Ireland
and Scotland to celebrate the conquering of the dark by the light, as the
months of sunshine finally arrived to warm the fields. The Druids believed the
Beltaine to be a magical act, an attempt to bring the sun’s light down to earth.
The May Day celebration signalled a time of fertility and unbridled
merrymaking. Monkeys?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The Tribe
unlooses its usual squealing chatter.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Thank you.
And later, young and old would spend the night making love in the Greenwood. Or
perhaps, the Scarletti Ranch.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">She stops
for the expected hoots and hollers.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Most would
say that our bride and groom are in the September of their lives. But tonight,
at least for one night, we invite them to revisit the green landscapes of
spring, a time of new and invigorated love. Huzzah!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The crowd
echoes “Huzzah!” Ivan and Willie pour their lighter fluid along the base of the
pile, and Terra uses a long barbecue lighter to begin the blaze. Amid the
shouts, Jack hears Terra say, “And let’s hope to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">God</i> the fire department got my message.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Beer and
wine and herb circulate through the gathering as they stand around the
Beltaine, talking, laughing, yelling, dancing. At sunset, most of them have
disappeared inside, to a very promising pot-luck buffet. Jack finds Ben
standing near the garden gate, watching two stripes of tangerine, the sun
sinking below the horizon, the fire sinking into coals.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Oh Captain
my Captain!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Young man
knows his Whitman,” says Ben.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I shorely
do.” He gives his mentor a hug and holds it for a while. “I can’t tell you how
happy I am for you.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Ben smiles.
“Multiply that by ten, and you have the groom’s happiness. That creature in
white atop that monumental piece of horseflesh. That’s my <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wife</i>, for Christ’s sake.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“You are
one lucky bastard.” He claps Ben on the shoulder and turns to study the coals,
a broad ring of pulsing orange hearts.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Ben, I
don’t know if I ever told you the story…”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“How you
were going to kill yourself?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Jack
laughs. “You’re a goddamned Jedi, old man. Yes. I was going to hurl myself over
the Multnomah Falls.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Wow!
Pretty dramatic for an accountant. Why didn’t you do it?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I had one
leg up on the wall when a beam of sunlight landed on a rock mid-falls. It
looked like a burning house. I think what saved me was curiosity. I had to
figure out if that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">meant</i> something.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Ben looks
at him with something like wonder, the fireglow murmuring in his eyes. “That’s
it, then. You <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">are</i> a shaman.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“But…” Jack
pauses to assemble what he wants to say. “I guess I wanted to thank you for
saving my life. When I saw your grief at the beach that day, when you told me
‘Don’t you dare,’ I knew that I would never respond to that impulse again.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Ben throws
a pebble into the coals just to kick up a spark. “That’s funny. Here I thought
it was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you</i> who saved <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">my</i> life.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Really?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Really. I
knew you were a special one the moment I saw you on the beach, watching that
wounded bird. I’ll bet you didn’t think I remembered that.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“No. I
didn’t.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I thought,
that man is both troubled and magical. And as I worked with you, and brought
you to all these strange new worlds, I took the fascination in your eyes and
used it to rekindle my own spark. Even the insightful and enlightened among us
can forget to look at things with fresh eyes. It was soon after your entrance
into my life that tremendous things began to happen to me, concluding with the
vision of Gina Scarletti dressed as Cleopatra. Perhaps without my new eyes, I
would not have seen her.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“No,” says
Jack. “You would have seen <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">her</i> if she
were dressed as Ichabod Crane.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Ben lets out
the old husky laugh. “The prophet speaks. But the thing is… I was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ready</i> for her. I was prepared to
consider the previously unthinkable idea of being utterly happy.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Ben puts
his left hand on Jack’s elbow, and with his right gives him an old-fashioned handshake,
the gesture of his generation.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“One more
thing, young Jack. I know that this career-switch will cause you some
consternation. It’s a little scary, re-making yourself. And you probably think
that making love to Audrey LaBrea is not enough to justify your existence. But
let me tell you this: making love to Gina Scarletti is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">more</i> than enough to justify <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">my</i>
existence. So I think you’re wrong.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">He stops
and cocks an ear toward the house.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“What?”
says Jack.</span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 24.0pt;">Ben takes on the look of a
starving man who smells barbecued ribs. “Drums!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Well let’s
get to it!” says Jack. He turns toward the porch.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Wait!”
says Ben. “They say that a man going on a long journey, or a dangerous
undertaking, can better his chances by jumping three times, backwards and
forwards, over the Beltaine.”</span></div>Michael J. Vaughnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17776890054945089322noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-874189594558482002.post-70797280569121618522010-07-12T17:30:00.000-07:002010-07-13T13:31:11.660-07:00Exit Wonderland, Baby Seal Club and Sway<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjazGi0XWlhYtVVDDhvya8ihzSbiMi3tmfSPchIkEE7WdTmc7TUjA09ColUsKabfYlvpdG7pi48upQjwMG6brovIyc5xCRLigiWcnTbeSsmcRX9mL5JGPswOzC7Ua2fcdetVxE0MHXOD7pz/s1600/sfflyer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" rw="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjazGi0XWlhYtVVDDhvya8ihzSbiMi3tmfSPchIkEE7WdTmc7TUjA09ColUsKabfYlvpdG7pi48upQjwMG6brovIyc5xCRLigiWcnTbeSsmcRX9mL5JGPswOzC7Ua2fcdetVxE0MHXOD7pz/s400/sfflyer.jpg" width="301" /></a></div>Exit Wonderland, Baby Seal Club and Sway<br />
<br />
An evening of rock at South First Billiards<br />
9 p.m. Saturday, July 17<br />
420 S. First Street, San Jose, 408/294-7800<br />
No cover!<br />
<br />
With a working opera critic behind the drums, it doesn't seem enough to say, "Hey dude, come out and see my band - we rock!" So I thought I would wander from my usual genre and give you a description of the three bands playing on the 17th. Wish me luck!<br />
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<strong>Sway</strong> is a trio out of Monterey that plays "trancedelic" rock - a term that describes the band's psychedelic '60s roots but also the general effect of its music. It all begins with Daune Willahan, a long-time singer/songwriter whose acoustic originals are influenced by folk, blues and her Celtic roots. The band's principal weapon is Willahan's voice, a fearless, edgy soprano (think Grace Slick meets Judy Collins) that offers the kind of dynamic range more often heard in opera. Sway began when Willahan traded her acoustic guitar for electric and brought in husband Kelly Oliver, whose lead work is marked by simple, songlike solos and a rich, multilayered sound that dips into surprising effects like choral voices and whalesong (!). All three players are longtime members of the Monkey Tribe drum circle (recently chronicled in a novel of the same name), creating a rhythmic tightness that allows the drummer (that's me) to venture into unexpected territories, including mallet cymbal rolls, flamenco snarework, 6/8 waltz beats and galloping toms.<br />
<br />
The result of this unique chemistry is to create songs that are epic journeys of sound, marked by an organic feel that leaves its audiences uncontrollably swaying (thus, the name). Willahan's lyrics are strongly poetic. "Mystery" is a theatrical recommendation of the enigmatic ("...the real villains move more silently"). "July 13" tells of a raucous band of guy-rockers, their cliche-riddled sound parodied in the solos. "Labyrinth" is a spell-binding journey through addiction recovery, backgrounded by mythic sonic landscapes and a glorious, uplifting finale. The band also plays surprisingly novel covers of "Dreams" and "House of the Rising Sun," and uses Leonard Cohen's "Suzanne" as a haunting encore. <a href="http://www.houseofsway.com/">http://www.houseofsway.com/</a><br />
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At first listen, <strong>Exit Wonderland</strong> sounds exactly like a dance-band. Their funk-rock groove makes it awfully hard to stand still. But after a while, you might start to notice the lyrics. That boppy blues, "Burden," is actually about credit-card debt. That disco-jam, "Fear and Pride," addresses jingoism in Bush-era America. The surf-punk "Point of View" takes on religious hypocrisy. The songs originate with singer Pamela Quattrochi, who clearly has a lot on her mind, and seems to be at her best when she's a little bit pissed off. Her vocal style is straight-ahead rocker, a fast-paced sense for word-rhythms, a little bit of snarl, and enough soul behind her alto tone to carry off the band's bluesier dips. The rest comes down to the driving bass/lead combo of Smeeed Spain and Billy Doyle, the crisp (I hope) drumming of yours truly, and a couple of sonic bonuses: Anne Gelhaus's keyboard work and her background harmonies with Mr. Vaughn (the two of them were choirmates at San Jose State), perhaps best illustrated in the three-part a capella finale of the worker's lament, "The Man." The group has also begun an interesting sideline in obscure covers, beginning with the infectious basslines of The Doors' "Peace Frog" and the Bellrays' soul rapture, "Tell the Lie."<br />
<br />
Perhaps the greatest strength of EW is the complete lack of a virtuoso. These five play as a team, they play well-developed, thought-out songs, and they like things to be good and tight. As polished as it gets, however, the sound retains an rawness as hard to resist as its beats. www.facebook.com/pages/Exit-Wonderland/106022266611<br />
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There was little dispute over which band would be the third in our slate. EW played San Francisco's El Rio last month and were treated to the phantasmagorical delights of the <strong>Baby Seal Club</strong>, a band that is horribly hard to describe. My own shorthand is "the B-52s on acid," but that doesn't even scratch the surface. The biggest point of separation is their vocal approach, which sends the lead line from player to player, like they're doing some kind of rock musical. They paint the background with wild supporting meanders and harmonies that recently inspired former Go-Go Jane Wiedlin to jump from the crowd and voice her approval. The Club also ventures from the standard rock setups into moody, jazzy side-trips that resemble sonic film noir. It's a wild ride, augmented by the costumery of Choklit's 19th-century steampunk-wear and El Fudo's permanent Rod Stewart wig. It's a real treat to have them playing with us again, and believe me, either the acclaim has yet to go to their heads (2009 North Bay Indie Band of the Year) or they're doing a damn good job of faking it. www.babysealclub.com<br />
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Michael J. Vaughn is the West Coast stringer for the New Zealand website theoperacritic.com and author of several musically based novels.Michael J. Vaughnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17776890054945089322noreply@blogger.com0