Thursday, October 9, 2008

Danger Close, With a Beer Chaser



I sat in the office trying to figure out how being “such a mean bastard” meant she could “count on me.”

First, how was I a mean bastard? I didn’t dump her all those years ago. I was the one who went into a year-long mope when we split up. Of course, she “could count on me”… that part made sense. People did that a lot. I was dependable—although Kendra would laugh if someone told her that I was. Jackie might not actually know it for sure, but I would have done anything for her from the first time I met her. Within reason. OK, that was a hedge.


As I drove back to my empty townhouse I tried to figure out what she wanted.

Let’s see, let’s list what Jackie wants with me after all this time… she wants to communicate… she wants to talk… to get together-- at least to see each other face to face… bullshit, she wants to fuck. That’s all it is… she’s been married three years after a long period as a single mom and it isn’t what she hoped it would be… her daughter is graduating from college next spring and will be gone away from her forever pretty soon… she’s simply having a mid-life crisis like most of us guys… hell, it’s clear, she remembers our *glorious physical relationship* fondly and, well, she wants to get nailed. It’s simple… she wants cock.

Danger! Danger, Wil! Second opinion required. Apply alcohol for truth detection purposes.


I stopped at The Dume Room for an adult beverage or nine. About three drinks in a guy came in whom I knew from Zuma on the weekends when hanging out with the kids. Kenny's a weekend dad too, which is how we got to talking one day while the kids were playing in the ocean. He was a regular at this bar. Me, a not so regular. An irregular? I laid the Jackie situation out for Kenny, but not with my conclusions attached.

“Congratulations, Willie boy,” Kenny said, “You are staring straight at some smokin’ hot, married pussy that wants to get laid.”

“I screwed up the story then,” I said, “I must have telegraphed a happy ending.”

“Nah, you did fine. I have a couple dozen unsold scripts in my desk drawer so I know a little something about screenwriting, bud. You hid the nugget OK. But, no fuckin’ way she doesn’t want your prick in her again. I’ve been there too, man. That way lays trouble. Or is it lies trouble? Anyway, the bit, um, girl could be trouble. Big trouble. Maybe.” he said.

“Kenny, with that word choice I can’t figure out why your scripts don’t sell. I mean, ‘prick stuck in her again’ -- that’s sheer poetry,” I said.

“Fuck you, Wil,” Kenny laughed.

“See. There’s that magic again. What a wordsmith. Hollywood hasn’t seen anything like it since William Faulkner came out from Mississippi to write for the movies,” I said.

“The same Faulkner that wrote those heavy novels from high school? He wrote screenplays?” Kenny said.

“Fuck, Ken, how do you think you’re going to be a big-time screenwriter when you don’t even know who the greats were in this little ‘burg? There’s a waiter over at Musso & Frank who can tell you all about when Faulkner was workin’ out here. The guy used to drink there all the time for fuck’s sake. I’ll take you to dinner there some night and you can talk to him. Anyway, Faulkner came out here on and off over twenty years. He had this young girl work for him as his ‘secretary’ and he had her wear these little flimsy white dresses and come-fuck-me heels. He’d parade her around everywhere-- Santa Monica, Hollywood back when it wasn’t so seedy, the studios, all over town. Grade A arm candy. He loved havin’ all the movie moguls, suckups and fuckups see what the old guy with the typewriter was bangin’ every night in his bungalow. Did I say bungalow in his bunghole? I’ve had my limit Kenny. Anyway, ol’ Bill must have had somethin' goin’ on too, the same girl was doin’ him all those years. He even introduced her to his wife when she came out from Oxford, Mississippi. And the two of them became friends! That boy musta had some fuckin’ magic, Ken. Good with the words, ya know. Anyway, he kept comin’ out here for the pussy. It's all about the pussy. Always. And the movie money was better than teaching and writing too, I guess, “ I said.

> Long pause for thoughtful contemplation and drinking. <
“Shit. The same guy who wrote those books? I mean he was like Hemingway, Fitzgerald and those guys,” Kenny said.
“Better, Ken. Better. Unlike those guys he had a cock and he knew what it was for,” I said, “Hemingway? Tiny putz-- size of an acorn. Fitzgerald? Pussy-fuckin’-whipped. Totally fuckin' whipped motherfucker.”
“Fuck, I thought I was the first guy who knew this town was built on pussy,” Kenny laughed, “Oh well. We both may be loaded to the gills, Wil, but I know one thing for sure. If you get within a mile of that Jesse chick, she’s gonna suck your balls right through your dick,” Kenny said.
“Sounds painful. But, you’re wrong as usual Kenneth. I would have to get within a quarter mile or so for that, my cock isn’t a mile long,” I said and then settled up the tab.
“And it’s Jackie, not Jenny… I mean Jesse. It’s Jackie.”
--------------
The alarm rang and it was suddenly Friday. My head hurt when I got up and made some coffee. I normally beat everyone into the office but today it would be 10 before I got in. On the drive down I called Lynn to make sure everything was fine. Then I dialed Jackie’s cell.
She answered, “Hi Wil. Did you think about me last night all alone in your big bed?”
“And hello to you. Apparently you aren’t currently with a client,” I said, “What makes you think I was alone?”
“You were. Anyway, no I’m not with anyone right now, I’m heading over to my office. What are you doing?” she said.
“Going into the office and calling you,” I said.
“You California types work short hours I guess,” she said.
“Keep that up and I’m not coming to see you,” I said.
“When?” she asked.
“Well, I need to make a two week bomber run out to the field this month and when I do that I usually try to work in a stop to see my folks on the weekend in the middle. So, I’m looking at being there on…..”
We worked out a time to meet. It would be a Friday-- late afternoon. She’d get back to me with the location she selected.
“I can’t wait, Wil. Really, I can’t wait,” Jackie said.
“Good. I feel the same way, Jacqueline,” I said.
After hitting END I wondered how bad it would be if we sat face to face and just didn’t like each other any more. How awkward would that be? Not good.
Then I wondered if I’d still want her to suck my cock anyway. Just because, ya know, just because-- she owed me that much. Right?

18 comments:

asweetnectar said...

Ooooohhhh can't wait!

Kyra said...

After hitting END I wondered how bad it would be if we sat face to face and just didn’t like each other any more.

Okay, that's just not gonna happen.

Then I wondered if I’d still want her to suck my cock anyway.

Duh, Wil. Of course you'll still want her to suck your cock.

Now tell Kyra all about it, baby...

L. said...

Ditto what Kyra said.

But seriously: all the old boyfriends *I've* ever made an effort to re-connect with, I secretly really wanted to re-connect with them, like plug and outlet reconnect. Ya dig?

So I'm glad you're giving me the guy's side of this little trip down lover's memory lane.

Distracted said...

I'm loving the man's perpective on the reunion, too. It's nice to know it's not only the females who analyze and pick stuff apart. I'll echo what the others have said: Of course you'll want her to suck your cock, especially with such fond memories of the first time around.

Ms. Inconspicuous said...

I might concede that Faulkner was a better "guy" than Hemingway or Fitzgerald from the pussy-getting standard...

But a better writer? Ugh. I have so many bad memories of Faulkner. Give me Fitzgerald AND day.

Ms. Inconspicuous said...

I meant "any".

Coquette said...

Oooo... I like Faulkner.

(He coulda had MY pussy.)

But what movies did he write?

Wil said...

nectar- I love it when you say that.

Kyra- You mean even a bad bj is still great? I've heard that.

L.- Interesting. I believe I'm following your train of thought. So, even though we've never connected is it possible to re-connect? The plug and outlet way? ;-)

Wil said...

Distracted- OK, it's unanimous, I'm going to get a bj. Oh yeah, I've already lived this. You might be surprised-- or not.

Ms. I- Remember, I was drunk. Not as drunk as Hemingway, Faulkner or Fitzgerald, but drunk. Not even all of the facts are correct in that drunken tale. He fucked more girls in Hollywood than just that one. But, as for the relative merits of those 3, I'll take Flannery O'Connor's position: "The presence alone of Faulkner in our midst makes a great difference in what the writer can and cannot permit himself to do. Nobody wants his mule and wagon stalled on the same track the Dixie Limited is roaring down." You can have precious Fitz and I'll take Bill and Papa. I hate it when we fight, though. :-)

Wil said...

Coquette- Admit it, he had you when you read "A Rose for Emily" didn't he. He doctored scripts for Howard Hawks mostly. "The Big Sleep" with Bogie and Bacall was his screenplay of the Chandler book. He also, famously, cranked out a script from Hemingway's "To Have And Have Not" Basically he took the money and the fun.

swingerwife said...

Of course you'll want her to suck your cock for old time's sake. Nothing wrong with that. But does she "owe" it to you? I bet she's probably disagree with that assumption, but perhaps I'm wrong. I can't wait to find out what happens next!

Ms. Inconspicuous said...

Wil: It's not my fault! Any love for Faulkner was beaten out of me by English professors with suspiciously sensible shoes! (And I'll take Papa too, by the way. Mmmm...misogyny...)

Wil said...

SW- Don't worry. She didn't owe me anything. But a guy can be delusional from time to time.

Ms. I- Yeah, they can do that. They can be such mean bastards, those English profs.

Coquette said...

I thought she DID owe you. An even G right?

Am I going to have mention ROI again to jumpstart this story?

Wil said...

Coquette- The story needs a jump start? I'm just a miserable failure.

asweetnectar said...

My dear Wil, we await what happens. When drinking is involved we tend to be a bit silly on our decision making skills. I have been known for that myself.

Cheating Wife said...

Fitzgerald...pussy whipped. The lit major in me found that rather amusing.

;-)

(For the record, I assumed the bj happening as well...that talent and kind of cock worship is unique and permanent, as far as I am concerned.)

Riff Dog said...

Loving this! And yes, she does owe you that much!

I know writers like Kenny, by the way. You know how this town is!