Hazy Days and Cloudy Nights 01.003: How It All Got Started: Stranded

Written on May 31st, 2009. Filed under How It All Got Started. Tagged with , , , , , , , , , .

Previously: Alex Kent was disappointed to see his friend Angel Jenner had her eye on Mike Dante, and tried to find solace back home in his art. Carson Meunetti was surprised by his father’s unexpected understanding. Lina Porter passed on an opportunity to gain some life experience with Eric Finn, but put herself in a tough spot.

“Stranded”
Alex stared at the glistening canvas before him. His shoulders and chest tightened. He blinked and breathed.

“Dad… it’s the first day of summer vacation. I’ll look for a job. I just wanted to take a few days to relax.”

“Start looking tomorrow,” his father said. “You’re going to be eighteen — an adult.” He was using his no-nonsense fatherly voice, a flat tone with the slightest edge and just a touch louder than necessary. “I expect all the adults in this house to chip in and pay their way.”

Alex bit his lip. He turned toward his father. “I know that, dad. You’ve said it before.”

His father nodded. “We’ll figure out how much you can contribute once we know what you’re bringing home.” He glanced at Alex’ painting and frowned. “Getting a job is your first priority. Got it?”

Alex’ mother came up behind her husband. “Oh.” She sounded disgusted. “It’s the job thing again.”

“Yes.” His father glared at her. “Some of us have to work.”

This was well-tread ground. Alex saw his mother’s eyes narrow. “Bringing in a paycheck isn’t the only thing that keeps things running around here. Alex can help in other ways.” She gestured at her son. “And what about college? He needs time to go to school.”

His father smiled thinly and said to Alex, “The only way you’re gonna get to college is if you pay for it yourself. So you might as well get a job.” His face opened up, apparently pleased this logic also perfectly matched his demands. “You can go to class when you’re not working, so long as you keep up on your responsibilities around the house.” He shrugged cheerfully. “Don’t like it? Move out and see if it’s any better. That’s real life.”

His mother shook her head. “Dinner’s ready.” She turned away, back down the hall. “Cash only, in advance.”

Alex’ father rolled his eyes. “I’m serious, Alex. Starting tomorrow, early, hit the pavement.”

“Right.”

With a short nod, his father left.

Alex sighed. What a totally awesome first day of summer.

He cleaned his brushes. His father had introduced the “get a job, you bum” speech two years ago, when Alex turned sixteen, but it hadn’t had any traction because Alex was still in high school and couldn’t drive. The school thing was out of the way, and part of his father’s deal was that Alex could have the old Ford Pinto wagon sitting in the driveway… once he found a job, that is.

Alex could not wait to finally be mobile. It would change everything. All he had to do was avoid being rear-ended in the stupid car, which supposedly tended to explode. That was an acceptable risk if it meant getting the hell away from his father whenever he wanted.

His mother called from the kitchen. “Dinner’s getting cold!”

The phone rang, which provided much better motivation to go to the front of the house than having dinner with his parents. He got to the receiver before his mother.

“Hello?”

“Hey dude. What’s going on?”

Alex felt a thin hope that his day might at least end on a high note. “Grant, hey. Nothing much. What’s up?”

“Let’s hang out. I’m over at my parents; I can be there in ten minutes.”

Alex saw his father saunter down the hallway. His mother stood next to the stove, face tense and eyes dark.

“Thank you,” Alex said.

Grant snickered. “Another fun day at the homestead?”

“Oh, totally. Fun all around, all day long. It’s been totally jewel.”

Grant drew out a long, “Great,” and chuckled. “Pack up your guitar, dude. I’m on my way.”

Lina felt exposed and conspicuous stomping along on the shoulder of the road down the hill from the trailer park. Cars flew by. What if one of them was her mother?

She knew that was ridiculous. The chances of her mother driving on that particular road at that particular time were next to nothing, but she still fought the urge to cringe with every car that passed.

“Get a grip, Lina,” she muttered. “Just walkin’ down the street.” She bristled. “You’re not a little girl.” She raised her voice above the whine and rumble of the traffic. “You hear that, Eric Finn, you asshole?”

After trudging through the dirt, weeds and trash for ten minutes or so and getting her shoes totally scuffed and the hem of her skirt filthy, she came to a gas station. Thankfully, she correctly remembered the phone booth there. Even better, she discovered it actually had a working phone in it, and the trash on the floor wasn’t too disgusting.

Lina had all of three nickels and a dime in her tiny purse. Enough for one phone call. She bit her lip and thought about it. Who had the best chance of being home?

“Carson.” She nodded her head firmly, dropped the coins in, and dialed his number.

It rang. She let it ring. Six times. The answering machine should have picked up. He must be on the line, which was fine… he’d hear the “call waiting” beep and click over.

Ten rings. “C’mon, dammit…” Fifteen rings. She watched an old Chevy Nova pull in, a cool-looking chick with bobbed straight black hair get out, go into the station convenience store, come back out, pump her gas, go back in for her change, come back out, get back in her car, and leave.

Lina lost track of how many times the phone had rung.

She groaned and hung up. Her coins jingled into the coin return and she scooped them out. “Thanks, Carson. Not an important call at all. Feel free to ignore it.” She rolled the coins in her palm. “Hey, awesome, I’m totally talking to myself. Neat.”

She thought about who else to call. Clair was out, since Lina was supposed to be with her, at the Abbeque Valley Mall. Who would be home on a Monday afternoon on the first day of summer vacation?

Rhonda.

She dropped the coins back in and dialed. The phone rang three times.

“Hello?”

“Uh…” Lina was thrown. The voice sounded old, fragile, far from Rhonda’s brassy tone. She thought she was screwed, but pushed on. “Um, is Rhonda there?”

“I’m sorry, dear.” Definitely old lady voice. “There’s no one here by that name.”

“Oh. Okay. I guess I dialed the wrong number…”

“That’s all right, dear. You have a lovely day.”

Click.

She stared at the receiver. “You too.”

And that was it for her change. No more phone calls.

She stepped out of the phone booth and crossed her arms on her chest. This was totally fucked up.

A motorcycle growled into the gas station. She knew that sound.

Sure enough, there was Ian Pinchley with Tammy Uchio holding on behind him. They pulled up next to a pump. Ian shut down the bike and he and Tammy dismounted.

Lina called out as she walked over. “Hey, wow, small world.”

Tammy, who had shaved her head since Lina had last seen her, stared at her for a moment before recognition kicked in. Even then, her expression didn’t change all that much. Ian smiled and shook his head.

“Eric send you out for snacks?” He laughed.

“No, I walked out on his ass,” Lina said.

Tammy squinted at her. “You had a fight.”

“Yep.” She looked at Ian. “Look, I really don’t want to have to deal with him, but I’ve got to get back to the mall—”

Tammy’s eyebrows went up. “The mall.”

Lina knew the drill. Tammy was laying down her territory by being just slightly condescending. She ignored the older girl as much as she could, but knew the rest of her sentence would only give Tammy more to play with.

“— before my… mother’s there to pick me up.”

Ian kept grinning. He was enjoying this. “Your mother.”

Lina sighed. “C’mon, Ian. Gimme a break.”

Ian handed Tammy some cash.

Tammy shook her head. Lina stared at her bare skull. It was actually a good look; she had to give her that. “You go,” Tammy said.

Ian shrugged, still smiling. His blue eyes glittered. “You go, I pump. I go, you pump.”

Tammy glanced at Lina, then glared at Ian. “Jesus.” She snatched the money out of Ian’s hand and crushed it in her fist. She strode over to the gas station’s cashier window.

If Lina hadn’t been so stressed, she would have enjoyed the fact that Tammy seemed to consider her a threat. That was something to tuck away for later. Right now…

“So? Can you give me a ride?”

Ian’s grin twisted a little. “There’s only room for two on the bike. I’ll have to drop Tammy off at the trailer and come back.”

Lina didn’t mind hanging out at the gas station a little while longer. “But you’ll do it?” She looked over at Tammy, who finished up with the cashier and was headed back.

Ian started pumping gas. “Just chill here for a while.” He finished up and got back on the bike. Tammy got behind him without a word. “Just hang out.”

He started the bike. “Okay,” Lina hollered. “Thanks!”

She watched them drive away. Ian was a sarcastic asshole, but he was probably all right.

Lina walked back over to the phone booth. She decided her outfit was too messed up for her to care. She leaned against the dirty glass.

Depending on boys sucked.

Carson sat up on the bed. “Excellent! Let’s talk. How was your day?”

He imagined Tess on her own bed, tangling a finger in her frizzy auburn curls. She said, “Fine, I guess.”

“Mine was cool… until my parents hit me with this thing,” he said. “They wanted me to take off and go on a business trip with them — totally tried to hijack my summer. I convinced my dad it was more important that I stay here.”

“But why? Where was the trip?”

“Costa Rica.”

“You passed up a trip to Costa Rica?” He heard her click her tongue. “Why would you do that?”

Car was confused. “Well… part of the reason was I didn’t like being told. Not asked.” He sat up straight. “Plus, I wanted more time with you, before… you know.”

“Oh.”

She didn’t say anything else. Carson swung his legs around so that he sat on the edge of the bed. Confusion was beginning to turn to something worse, like yellowing on the edge of a photograph.

“Oh?”

She sighed. “You should have gone, Car. When are you gonna get another chance to travel like that? I would have done it.”

“You would have? What about… you wouldn’t have stayed?” He didn’t say what he was thinking: You wouldn’t choose hanging out with me for a little while longer?

Another beat of silence.

“Are you there?”

Tess said, “This is why we need to talk, Carson.”

Car found he was on his feet. He turned to untwist the phone cord from around his waist. “What?”

“Well… I mean, we’re going to be really busy this summer, getting ready for the fall. There’s so much to do before we both leave.”

“I guess…”

She sighed again, short and sharp. “I think we should break up.”

Car knew they’d have to break up at the end of the summer, when fortune took them to different coasts and different colleges. He had envisioned a bittersweet couple of months, the slow farewell, driving her to the airport, letters and phone calls to blunt the edge from the inevitable until finally their high school romance became a life-long adult friendship.

Tess wasn’t following the plan.

“What? I don’t — why now? We’ve got all summer!”

“I know… but it just doesn’t make sense to draw it out, honey. It’s, like, taking off a Band-Aide, y’know?”

Car shook his head. “No, I… what? That would make us, like, some kind of scab, or something. Is that how you see it?”

“No. Of course not.” She sounded a little exasperated. “I thought you’d get this. It’s the practical thing to do.”

“Screw practical, Tess! We love each other!”

They’d said it before in the ten months or so they’d been together. Carson had never felt it as strongly as he did now that it was being discarded.

“I know we do,” said Tess. “That’s… that’s why I think this is best. It’s less painful for both of us.”

The phone clicked. Someone was calling on the other line. Too bad. This was way more important than anything else right now.

“Less painful?” He barked a tight laugh. “Seriously?”

“Look,” she said. “I’m trying to do the right thing. I’m not gonna have any time for stuff like this. You’d just get pissed at me.”

He shook his head. “We never talked about this. In fact, we talked about all the things we were going to do, our last summer.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

The call waiting clicked again and again. Give it up!

“Car?”

“I’m here.”

“Are you okay with this? I think it’s the right thing to do…”

“You think so? What about me? What about what I think? What about what I want, Tess? Does it matter? Does what I want make any fucking difference?”

“Car…”

“Jesus! Last week… you remember? We sat on the grass and planned it all out. We had the summer all figured out, Tess — we did it together. Remember? We did it together.”

“I know… but I started to think about it…”

“But you didn’t tell me! I had no clue!” Alone in his room, he didn’t care so much when the tears blurred his eyes. He refused to let it reflect in his voice. “I just passed up a totally cool gift from my parents so I could have more time with you — so we could stick to the plan!”

The other line went on clicking.

“Is it too late for you to go..? I really think you should go, Car.”

“Yeah, I guess you would think that. Thanks for deciding that for me, too.”

“Damn it, Car!” She didn’t mind letting her own tears drain into her tone. “I don’t want you to hate me.”

Right on target. Car melted. “I don’t hate you, Tess.” He sniffed. “How could I hate you? But we’re going to be right here, in the same town, just like always, for another three months, practically… why shouldn’t we, just, do what we planned?”

“I’m not going to be around, Car… I’m sorry. It’s not as simple as you — you’re just going up the freeway. I’ve got to figure out a whole new life, in New York, too… how different is that gonna be? I’ve got a lot to figure out, a lot to plan.” She sniffled as well. “I won’t have time for us. I wish I did.”

Car sighed and wiped his nose. He couldn’t believe it. He was already resigned to it, though. What choice did he have?

What choice did he ever have?

“You there?” She sounded small.

“I’m here.” She was small. Petite and smooth and perfect and… shit. “So… will we see each other at all before you go?”

“I — yeah, we’ll have to…”

“Don’t make it sound like a hassle,” Car snapped. He immediately regretted it. “Sorry. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “I’ve got some of your books. And that Stiff Little Fingers record…”

“Oh, yeah.” He wanted that record, but it would probably be a while before he felt like listening to it, now. He tried to be okay. “So… what’d you think of it?”

“I liked “Gotta Gettaway,” she said.

So did he.

Damn it.

“That’s a good one.”

“Yeah.”

More silence. Whoever had been trying to call gave up.

Carson listened to Tess breathing.

“Okay,” he finally said. “I guess we can figure that out, eventually.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Another twenty seconds of nothing later, Tess whispered, “Good-bye, Carson,” and hung up.

…to be continued!

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It’s Been Ten Days…

Written on May 26th, 2009. Filed under Scribtotum. Tagged with .

Earning it …since I posted here! What’s been going on?

Well, the first of what will hopefully be many temporary and short-term gigs with the United States Department of Commerce Census Bureau ended on May 9th. I spent the next week getting my unemployed legs back and diving into client work that had taken an unfortunate but necessary back seat while I enjoyed gainful employment with Uncle Sam.

One of the first things I did was try to re-instate my unemployment insurance. No, I’m not a moocher, thank you very much. I’ve been paying unemployment insurance with every paycheck since 1985. You pay insurance so that it’s there when you need it. I need it.

Except… whoops! If your last job was as a government employee — and I was one for six weeks — you have to go through a whole different set of paperwork, and you can’t do it on-line. You have to print it out and (gasp!) fax or mail it in! I don’t know about you, but I can fill out a form on a website and click “submit” with great faith and confidence, but ask me to put something in an envelope and give it to the postman and I get very nervous. And our fax machine? About twenty years old. Plus, can’t you just imagine the fax machine on the other end? They must get reams of faxes!

I decided to fax the forms and mail them, just to cover my ass. Much to my surprise, I received my new claim form not four days later. Faith in System: Revived. Next check should arrive next week.

Of course, the dole doesn’t bring our household income up to the level to which we are accustomed, and by that, I mean “the level we need in order to stay out of the poorhouse.” So I invoiced my clients, something I had put off while I was making a regular paycheck those six weeks. I bet it made some of them happy… and it brought me a nice bit of padding. Now, I’m invoicing every two weeks so my bank doesn’t empty out and my clients’ banks don’t get broken. Should work out better for all concerned.

One other thing has been instrumental in helping my wife and I survive financially this month: “Hazy Days and Cloudy Nights.” Membership subscriptions to the site, my new ongoing episodic serial fiction webzine that launched on May 1st (where have you been?), took care of about half our mortgage payment for the month. This is why I’m asking folks to pay for the fiction I put on that site. No joke: when you give me money in exchange for the words I write, it helps keep the roof over the heads of me, my wife, our two dogs, four cats, and turtle. I’m not running around buying video games and porn with that cash, believe me. Besides, you can get porn for free on the Internet… as I understand it, anyway.

Most of the last ten days, weekends included, have consisted of trying to balance the varying needs of four different clients while making time to write installments of “Hazy Days and Cloudy Nights.” I’m trying to get two months ahead of schedule on “Hazy Days and Cloudy Nights” so that I can also work on some other writing stuff… still trying..! I also just did my second-ever for-pay voice work, and some pro bono narration and voice acting for various podcasts has been done and needs to be done. Deadlines loom.

There are no less than four books I have read with the understanding that I will review them on this blog. I need to write those reviews. And post them, too — I bet the authors expect me to post them.

It hasn’t all be nose-to-grindstone, just mostly. I’ve allowed myself some relaxation time, mostly in the form of pulling my hair out over the NBA semi-finals games, but also by exercising (not enough), socializing briefly with a couple of friends, and spending at least a couple of hours straight with my wife every day.

So that’s what I’ve been up to. Right now it’s after eleven at night, I know exactly what I have to do tomorrow (lots) and I don’t have much energy left to expend on tonight. So I’m writing this; saying hello to all of you.

Hello!

Postscript: a few days ago I got an idea for another blog. Stop me. Don’t let me do it. Or, subscribe to “Hazy Days and Cloudy Nights” so that I can afford to pursue every creative whim that comes into my skull. There are two thousand of you that swing by this blog every month… that’d about do it for me if every one of you subscribed for a year. What say you?

Post-postscript: Yeah, I do pimp the shit out of “Hazy Days and Cloudy Nights,” and it probably grates on some of you because I’m asking you to exchange coin for content. Bear with me. I’m the busker under the bridge, guitar case wide open at my feet, ready to play you a song. It’s a good one, I promise.

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Hazy Days and Cloudy Nights 01.002: How It All Got Started: Stand Up, Back Down

Written on May 16th, 2009. Filed under How It All Got Started. Tagged with , , , , , , , , .

Previously: Alex Kent rode his bike across town to see his best friend and met with a surprise when he arrived. Carson Meunetti’s parents made him an offer he can’t refuse. Lina Porter went on a clandestine date with a boy she’s forbidden to see.

“Stand Up, Back Down”
Alex looked across the porch. Mike Dante wore an open smile with cold warning in his eyes.

Alex reacted to such things by pushing back. He went for it. “You,” he said to Angel. “We were talking about you.”

“Really?” Angel set the tray on the porch. She bent down and handed Alex a glass of iced tea. “Should I be flattered?”

Alex found it difficult to meet her big, dark brown eyes. “Yeah. Probably, I guess.” He took the glass and saw her smirk.

“Probably?” She pivoted and bent at the knees to get Mike’s glass and her own. Alex caught himself checking out her narrow hips. He focused on his drink.

Angel turned to Mike. “What about it, Mike?”

Mike took his iced tea. “Thank you, Angel.” He shot his flat smile at Alex. “He doesn’t think I’m good enough for you.”

“You don’t say.” Angel turned and looked at Alex, one eyebrow raised and a hand on her waist.
“That’s not what I –”

“Uh huh.” Angel’s expression didn’t change. She nodded slightly.

“I said we look out for each other.” Alex shrugged. “Like friends do.”

Angel sat down on the swing next to Mike and said to him, “Alex is my best friend.” Alex felt a rush of validation and an out-of-nowhere, stomach-clenching rush of alien hope that was as surprising as it was embarrassing. “He does look out for me.”

Alex raised his glass in a little salute. He quickly moved the glass to his mouth to cover the fact that his lips were quivering. It was a nervous reaction that had plagued him since childhood. He hated it.

“I guess you can’t knock a guy for that,” Mike said.

Mouth tight and under control, Alex lowered his glass and took in the two of them.

As expected, Mike managed to get his arm on the back of the swing, not touching Angel but claiming her just the same. Angel’s body twisted just slightly toward him. Her right knee touched his left leg. She didn’t pull away.

That about did it. Alex took another quick sip of his tea, sat the glass back on the tray, and stood up.

“Well, I guess I should get going,” he said in a rush. “Long ride back.”

Angel’s “Oh, you have to?” was automatic.

Before Alex could answer, Mike casually raised his hand behind Angel. “Later, ‘gator.”

“Yeah, I have to,” Alex said to Angel. “You’ve got company.” He was already off the porch and getting on his bike. “Call me later if you want, if you feel like it.”

“Totally,” she said.

“Later.”

Alex got off that yard and down that street and out of Angel’s neighborhood.

Stupid waste of time. Stupid. Stupid.

Alex was the guy the girls confided in. He was not the one they wanted to do anything with, not unless they were so damn needy and screwed up that being with him was a by-product of his taking care of their problems.

That had sure as hell been the story with Eve, his girlfriend from his sophomore year right up to the beginning of this year. His role had been to keep her comforted and confident and as close to sane as she could be. The many times they briefly broke up, she quickly found someone hotter than him to throw in his face until she came back around… and he always, always took her back. If her parents hadn’t moved across the country, Alex was sure he’d still be running that maze.

Angel had been his shoulder through that whole mess, and he had been there for her own various soap operas. To think they were supposed to be anything else… could be anything else…

Stupid.

Alex got home, gave his mother a quick hello nod where she puttered in the front yard, and retreated to his bedroom. He paced in the small space between the foot of his bed and his closet. The long ride had not drained his irritated, frustrated energy. He felt like his nerves were pushing along the underside of his skin: hard, stiff coils of aimless rage.

Back and forth. On the left, a half-finished oil painting waited for him on its wooden easel. On the right, his Fender acoustic-electric guitar sat propped against a small bookcase.

He snatched up the guitar, fell back to sit on the edge of his bed, and swung the instrument onto his lap. His left hand, restless and nomadic, formed quick chords against the neck. He tapped the strings above the soundhole with his right hand, rhythmic and tense.

Alex sighed quickly. The guitar went back against the bookcase. He was in a real rut with that thing. Everything he pulled out of the instrument felt boring and simplistic and dead. He couldn’t pick it up without over-thinking. Right now he didn’t want to think.

He stood in front of the painting. It was a collection of loose, open swirls of red and blue. It didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t supposed to.

That would do. Get lost in doing nothing for a while. Put the day’s misguided expectations into the canvas and turn everything else right the fuck off.

This worked to relax him for a while. He barely registered the activity in the rest of the house as his mother moved around and his father came home from work. He just moved paint from tube to palette to canvas.

Then his dad opened the bedroom door — he never, ever, ever knocked — and said, “Hey. How many job interviews did you go on today?”

Car looked at his mother and father in turn. His mother’s face was tight with irritation. His father’s grin was freeze-dried by the ultimatum.

Car felt heat rise in his cheeks. “Friday morning? You’re cutting my time with Tess from three months to three days?

His father shrugged. “Look, I’m not telling you to break up with her before you leave. That’s up to you.”

Car jabbed his index finger, raw and stained from bass practice, at his father. “But you are telling me I’ve got less time with my girlfriend just because you decided I have to go with you.”

His mother’s voice was cold. “This trip is meant to be a gift to you, Carson. Show some gratitude.”

Car jerked to his feet. “Gratitude? Are you…” Frustration threatened to overwhelm him. He retreated to his room with quick, stiff steps. His limbs felt like they were made of steel rods.

His father’s hand slapped against the bedroom door and pushed it open.

“Carson.”

Car backed away from the door to let his father in. Ted Meunetti stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Car retreated another step and the back of his legs met the edge of his bed. He crossed his arms on his chest and glared at the floor.

“Carson.” His dad placed slight emphasis on the first syllable.

“What.”

“This isn’t how we thought you’d take this. I’m confused.”

“Yeah?” Car kept his gaze on the carpet. He willed himself to force a shutdown on the cycle of anger and frustration that threatened to bring tears to his eyes. He would not cry like a fucking kid. He would not.

“Yeah,” his father mimicked without cruelty. “If I’d had an opportunity like this when I was you age, I’d be packing my bags right now. Counting down the hours.”

That was it. That was motherfucking it, right there. Car’s jaw clenched. He pushed his tongue against the back of his teeth until mouth opened. He took a deep breath. Then, he could speak.

“You are not me, dad.” He looked at his father.

“Of course not. But I — your mother and I both — we’re trying to give you every possible opportunity, every leg up we can, so you have everything you need to succeed. This trip is part of that!” His father spread his arms. “Just the people you could meet — my God, Car, these are the type of people you could work for after college. Think of that.”

Car snorted. “Beach babes?”

His father pursed his lips and tilted his head. “You know it won’t all be that — you’ll want to meet some people, folks who can help you later on. It’s called networking, Carson.”

“Help me with what? My career? I’ve been out of high school for, what, seventy two hours, and you’re writing my resume for me?”

The words pushed out from his heart, flowed up his throat and filled his mouth. He let them out. “I don’t want help with everything, dad. I don’t want it all planned out. I don’t want the push. I don’t want…”

He turned away; bit his lip.

He felt his father behind him, silent for a half a minute. Car focused on the dust on the corners of the blinds hanging from his bedroom window.

Finally, his father said softly, “What don’t you want, Car?”

Car closed his eyes briefly, let out a long breath, turned back to his dad and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Look,” he said. His father sat down on the bed next to him. “I — I am grateful. I know you guys have expectations. I mean, I want to go to school, I want to study law…” He looked at his hands; felt the hard-earned ache in his fingers from practicing the bass all day.

“Right…” His father prompted gently.

“I’m gonna do all that,” Car said. “It’s a given. I’m going to do everything you guys expect of me.”

Which meant going to his parents’ school, following his parents’ career path… none of which was entirely against his will. He wanted to make a difference. He wanted to change the world, and he believed he would.

“I hear a ‘but’ coming,” his father said.

Carson smiled slightly. “Yeah. ‘But’ you guys make me feel like… I dunno… like you have everything mapped out so well, there’s nothing left for me to find on my own.”

Saying it all brought Car great release and great dread.

His father nodded. “Huh.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re so damn smart, kiddo. You’re like an arrow, and the bow’s been pulled back as far as it can go.”

Car frowned. “No pressure, dad. Thanks.”

His father grunted, a short laugh, a small concession. “Okay. I think your mother and I worry about that arrow hitting its target once it’s in the air.”

“Does it matter where it lands?” Carson shook his head; carrying the metaphor felt silly and forced. Sometimes his father couldn’t help but talk like this. Car played along. “I’m gonna make a mark, no matter what.”

He was. Fuckin’ aye, he was. Car had no doubt about this.

His father put a hand on his shoulder. “I know it,” he said. “So… why not Costa Rica? It’s two weeks, Car. You’ll remember those two weeks the rest of you life. You will.”

“It’s not Costa Rica, dad.”

His father met his eyes. Nodded. “It’s not having a choice,” he said. “Right?”

“Kinda. I feel like a slot car.” Great. Now he was doing it. He was his father’s son, lucky him. He smiled at himself.

His father smiled, too. “Nice one.”

“Not really.”

They laughed.

“I just want this summer to just… be,” Carson said. “Y’know?”

“Yeah.” His father clapped his hand against the back of Car’s head and mussed his hair a little. He stood up.

“Okay.”

Car looked up at his dad. “Okay?”

Disappointment was still there, but his father shrugged and smiled again. “Yep. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

Car looked at the door. “What about…”

“I’ll talk to your mother.”

Carson nodded, a little dazed. “Thanks, dad.”

His father sighed. He opened the door. “Have your summer.” He left the room and closed the door behind him.

Car made fists despite the pain in his hands. He raised them above his head and let out a restrained, “Yes!”

He rolled across his bed to the telephone on his nightstand. He dialed Tess.

“Hello?” She had a high voice that matched her diminutive frame. It made him smile.

“Hey!”

“Hi!”

Car turned on his back and stretched. He felt tremendous. Free. “Let’s do something tonight.”

“Aw…” Regret in her tone brought Car down a notch. “I can’t, tonight. But… I’m glad you called, Car.”

“Well, that’s good! I’m glad you answered.” He laughed.

“Yeah,” she said. “Do you have some time? We need to talk.”

Lina looked at Eric carefully. She felt a distinct separation from herself, as if her awareness was a fraction of an inch removed from her body and her thoughts a split-second behind her actions. She felt compulsively precise.

She was drunk.

She laughed.

“I’m gonna help you?”

Eric smiled. He had thin lips. His dark eyes gleamed. Lina focused on the laugh lines that spread from the outside corners of his lids. “If you want,” he drawled.

“I’m confused,” she said.

“That’s understandable,” he said.

She wagged a finger at him. “I’m not done!” She picked up her Road Runner glass, swirled the ice around, put it back down. “Why should you be the one who gets to make the laws? How would I help… and… why should I, anyway?”

Eric extended an index finger from a loose fist. “First: because experience is power, and you need the experience.” His thumb unfurled. “Second: you do it just by being what you are.”

She liked that. She closed what little distance there was between them on the narrow bench. “Oh yeah? What am I?”

He pointed his finger at her and dropped his thumb: bang. “You’re new. Young. Inexperienced.”

Lina’s eyes widened with half-feigned indignation. “Inexperienced!”

Eric leaned back against the bench. “Obviously.”

“I’ll show you inexperienced, Mister Finn.”

Lina leaned forward and kissed him. His narrow goatee tickled her lower lip. His tongue slipped into her mouth. It was a pointed, crowding, welcome invasion, though the sensation was blunted somewhat by the numbing effects of the vodka.

The sensation of distance made making out a little like a wanna-be out of body experience. The idea of being her own voyeur was exciting.

Eric broke the kiss and moved his tongue along her jaw. He nipped at her neck. His tongue traced circles around the contours of her ear, sending a line of hot intensity straight into her belly and lower still.

Her throat surprised her when it released a little low groan. The spontaneity of her own body’s reactions fed her excitement. She strained to get closer to Eric, but the space between the table and the bench made everything awkward.

Lina figured Eric felt the same frustration, because he pulled away from her. They were so in sync!

He looked at her. His eyes were hooded and dark. “You want power?” His voice was husky. “You want the experience?”

She wanted a lot of things. She nodded.

He slid out of the bench, cleared a space on the table, and leaned back against it. “Come out here.” He motioned to Lina and guided her until she stood in front of him. “Better.”

He put one hand on her ass, another behind her neck, and pulled her toward him. They kissed again. Lina loved the feel of the stiff mystery in his pants and ground against him playfully.

The hand on her ass moved up to the short hair at the back of her neck. HIs other hand found its way between them. What was he..?

He broke their kiss and pushed himself up to sit on the table, which creaked but held. “Time for experience,” he whispered.

Lina looked down. There was Eric. No more mystery.

She had only ever seen pictures. The real thing was gross and fascinating and strange and compelling all at once.

He took her hand and guided it toward him. She resisted automatically.

“Wait.”

He let go. She was almost touching it. She stared. He was… twitching, or… bobbing?

“Are you…” She almost giggled. “Are you doing that?”

“Not deliberately.” He shifted on the table. “Touch it.”

“For the experience?” The distance was back. She wanted another drink, but her glass was on the table behind Eric. It was mostly melted ice by now, anyway.

“Sure.”

She brushed, barely, against the head with the tips of her fingers. It was very smooth. Her stomach quivered.

She looked at Eric. His eyes were closed. He exhaled.

“That feels good?”

He opened his eyes and fixed his gaze on her hand. “It feels like it’s going to feel good.”

She watched his face and wrapped her hand around him. He was warm; simultaneously firm and slightly yielding. Her mind tried to relate the feeling to something else and failed.

She squeezed slightly. His hips bucked and he slid in her grip. He grunted. Surprised, Lina let go.

“Kneel down,” he said. “Kiss me.”

That didn’t make sense to her at first, but then she got it. She was both irritated at her brief confusion and suddenly scared.

She let out a nervous laugh. “Whoa, cowboy. I…”

“What?”

“I don’t know if I’m…”

Lina glanced down quickly. His dick twitched. It was purple, alien… angry? She moved her gaze to his face and kept it there.

“I mean… Ian and Tammy, they’ll be coming back…”

Eric’s face clouded. “We’d hear him coming. That’s not it.”

Lina flinched. “Why…”

“This is the way it works, Lina. You want to experience things?”

“I do, Eric, but…”

“Look.” He smiled, but she knew it was too late. He was pissed. “You wanna be a little girl, all safe and sheltered like your daddy wants?” The smile flattened. “Or, maybe you want to grow the fuck up? I don’t need to hang out with a child, Lina. Is that what you are?”

The vodka was past being fun and well on its way to upsetting her stomach, which was tight from the threat in Eric’s words. She felt dizzy.

“No, Eric… I’m just not… I didn’t want it to be…”

“To be what? It’s all experience, Lina.” He snorted. “What, you want a big bed with rose petals on the sheets? You think it’s like in some stupid video?”

Automatically, images from Madonna’s “Like A Virgin” played in her head. Comparing what she wanted to that stupid song… it made her mad enough to be strong.

“No! But…” She cast her arms around the squalor of Ian’s trailer. “This?”

He glanced down at his flagging dick and back up at her. He shook his head, shaming. “If you’re not willing to grow up, you can find your own way home.”

“Are you serious?”

His expression was a mix of challenge and contempt, ready to tip all the way in either direction.

Her fists balled at her sides. “Jesus! Fuck you, then!”

She was out of there, gone from the trailer park and halfway down the street before the mixed fuel of anger and the necessity of making a scene burned out.

How in the fuck would she get back to the mall in time for her mother to pick her up?

…to be continued!

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