Hazy Days and Cloudy Nights 01.013: How It All Got Started: Leave It ‘Till The End Of The Party

Written on February 2nd, 2010. Filed under How It All Got Started. Tagged with , , , , , , , , , .

Previously: Crystal DuBois, after catching Preston VanHart cheating on her, caught Eric Finn trying to rape Lina Porter. Crystal kicked the shit out of Eric. Meanwhile, Alex Kent fears he’s made a mistake with Heather Leighton…

"Leave It 'Till The End Of The Party"

Eventually, it was just Crystal and Preston in the house. They stood inside the front door. Preston looked anywhere but at her and chewed on the skin of his thumb.

"See ya," Crystal said.

"Uh... yeah."

"Do me a favor and stick my stuff in a bag or something." She opened the door and stepped through. "I'll get someone to come by and pick it up."

Preston nodded. He still didn't look at her.

"Way to fuck it all up forever, Preston," Crystal said.

He finally did look at her. She could see he was still a little buzzed. His attempt at a smile was quick and weak and didn't survive when he took his thumb out of his mouth. "Yeah. You... think forever?"

Crystal closed the screen door so black mesh and wrought iron was between them. Her chest constricted; she forced a few quick breaths in and out to control threatening tears. "You know me. I can forgive a lot."

He brightened a little.

"But you went and fucked Tall Skinny motherfucking Gail."

Preston's face fell. Crystal pressed on.

"It's like you deliberately took a shit on my fucking heart, Preston." She shook her head. It was time to bail if she was going to keep it together.

"On my fucking heart, Preston."

"Crys..."

"Later."

She turned her back on him and walked as fast as she could without breaking into a run. She got to her old Nova, got behind the wheel, jammed the key into the ignition and gave it a vicious twist.

The engine came to life, and with it, the cassette in the tape deck. John and Exene sang about painting the town blue. Crystal blinked and drove through tears that turned the streetlights into smeary stars.

Heather pulled in front of Alex’s house, put the car in park and engaged the brake. Her smile was vulnerable, hopeful and guarded. “Here we are.”

“Yep.” Alex smiled back. “I’m sorry about this.”

Her laugh was short and a little frantic. “What about? It’s no big deal.”

They looked at each other. Her smile started to stiffen from the eyes down. Alex leaned forward, gave her a chaste kiss on the lips, and opened the car door. “See you soon..?”

“Not if I see you first,” Heather said.

He laughed politely. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

He stepped out of the car, closed the door, and stood at the end of his driveway until her car was out of sight. It was the right thing to do; he guessed that she would be checking her rear view mirror as she left. He didn’t want to be a dick.

Too late for that. He was a dick. Sleeping with someone he didn’t really love; that was new ground. He felt like shit.

He let himself into the dark house, felt his way to his bedroom, closed the door and turned on the light. It was only 12:30… it was early! Should he risk calling Angel? Would she answer fast enough to avoid waking up her folks? Was she already asleep?

Was she out, on a date with jock-prick Mike Dante?

That was an ugly thought.

Would he be able to call her, talk to her at all, on the phone in the kitchen without waking up his parents? His dad would be pissed…

He stood in his bedroom and weighed it out.

“Fuck this.” He slapped the wall switch down, clicking off his bedroom overhead light, and crept into the kitchen. The way he figured it… and this was twisted, but right… he owed it to Heather to call Angel.

He dialed Angel’s number by memory and touch. The phone rang once, almost twice, and there she was.

“Hello..?”

“Hey!” Alex kept his voice down. “Did I wake you up?”

“Hey..!” She was likewise half-whispering. “No… but you might have woken up my dad…!”

“Sorry… I… we haven’t talked for a few days. I couldn’t sleep; thought I’d catch up with you.”

Alex was mortified to discover that he was nervous. This was Angel, for Christ’s sake.

Exactly.

“Well…” Her tone told him she thought he could have waited until tomorrow to catch up, but here they were. “I guess I’m all right.”

“You guess? That’s not the same as all right.”

“Guess not.”

Alex couldn’t decide if he felt bad for his friend or excited that her less-than-optimal mood might be because of Mike Dante being an asshole. “So? Tell me.”

She sighed into the phone. “Ugh. It’s nothing.”

That was new. There was no “it’s nothing” between them. They didn’t work that way. “C’mon, Angel. It’s me.”

“Yeah.” She sounded dubious.

“So?”

He was ready to hear about a bad date. He was ready to be pissed off if Dante had been mean to her, or worse, tried to do something she didn’t want.

“Are you…” She sighed heavily. “Do you like me, Alex?”

Whoa. He wasn’t ready for that.

Car did not have an easy time getting Lina out of the car and into the house. She wasn’t a big girl, but she was dead weight, and he was acutely conscious of not wanting to accidentally hurt her.

First, he got her arm across his shoulders and held her tight around her waist. Hopefully, she would stumble along with him.

She didn’t. Her feet dragged along the driveway.

He’d never tried carrying anyone before, but there didn’t seem to be any other right way to do this. Car crouched down, hooked his left arm under Lina’s knees, and straightened up. He wasn’t especially weak or especially strong, so it took some effort to straighten his legs, keep her steady, and not fall backwards. He grunted and hoped none of his neighbors were watching.

“Okay. Here we go.”

Car lurched up the slope of his front walk and got to the front door, which was when he realized his keys were in his front pocket. He needed a free hand. He had to put Lina down.

Bracing Lina between himself and the door frame, Car fished out his keys and got the door open. He got Lina through the door as carefully as possible and closed and locked the door.

He picked up Lina again. Her breath tickled his neck and she mumbled something unintelligible.

“Almost there, Lina…”

He carried her back to his bedroom and lay her on the bed without bothering to pull down the spread. Instead, he folded it over her as and figured it would be enough of a blanket.

Lina mumbled something else and even moved a little, settling into the bed. Carson felt something loosen in his chest and he let out a long, shuddering breath.

“Oh, god, Lina,” he whispered. “No more nights like tonight. Jesus.”

She slept.

Car padded into the kitchen and got himself a drink of water. He noticed the answering machine’s little red LED blinking. Car feared it was Lina’s parents, but he wasn’t about to call them until Lina was awake and coherent. There’d be hell to pay, but the price wouldn’t be that much higher tomorrow morning. Lina needed to rest.

Hell, he needed to rest. Now that Lina was truly safe, the adrenaline he hadn’t known was sustaining him melted out of him in a flood. He stumbled back to the bedroom, lay down beside his friend, and closed his eyes.

“Lina…” Another wave of relief hit him. He blinked tears. “Okay. Okay.” She was safe. Crystal DuBois beat the shit out of Eric Finn — he’d be feeling that tomorrow, the fucker. And Lina was safe, here, with him.

He rolled onto his side and pulled her close against him. “You’re safe.”

Car’s sleep was thick with anxiety and cloudy threats. When the phone rang, it yanked him awake with a start.

The clock said four eighteen. For the rest of his life, more often than not, he would inexplicably manage to look at a clock at least once a week at exactly four eighteen.

Sleep fuzzed and blunted his reluctance to face Lina’s parents. He picked up the phone.

“Hello..?”

“Carson…. Carson, thank god. Thank god.”

It wasn’t Grant or Amanda Porter.

“Uncle Mick..?”

“Carson… Carson, buddy, I need you to wake up, okay? I need to tell you something, kiddo. Okay? Are you… are you ready?”

…to be continued!

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Hazy Days and Cloudy Nights 01.012: How It All Got Started: The Party, Part Three

Written on January 4th, 2010. Filed under How It All Got Started. Tagged with , , , , , , , , , .

Previously: At Preston VanHart’s party, Lina Porter faces her older boyfriend in order to break up with him… and finds herself in a distressing situation. Crystal Dubois discovers Preston in the bathroom, not alone. When she retreats in anger to a back bedroom of the house, Crystal discovers it’s already occupied. Meanwhile, Alex Kent and Heather Leighton consummate their new relationship, but the end result catches Alex by surprise…

“The Party, Part Three”

Lena was mostly passed out. Her legs hung over the edge of the bed. Her head lolled. Her lids were not quite closed over eyes that rolled in their sockets.

Eric stood over her and smiled. The pill had done its work, no problem. He knew she was a lightweight. Now it was time to close the deal.

He pulled her legs apart and pushed up her skirt, exposing white panties. His breath quickened and he started to sweat. There was so much going on that was so fucking perfect about this. Virgin. Under age. Totally helpless. This was one hell of an experience, all right. Fuck yeah.

He undid his belt and let his loose chinos drop to his ankles. His cock was painfully hard against his boxer shorts.

Too fucking perfect.

Eric reached between Lina’s legs and got his hand on the waistband of her panties. She didn’t even moan.

Four things happened next; none of them expected; none of them good.

The bedroom door opened.

Eric heard Crystal DuBois screech, “What the fuck?”

Eric started to turn around, but he had to shuffle since his pants were down around his ankles.

Crystal’s Doc Martens combat boot slammed fast and hard into Eric’s unprotected testicles.

Later, Crystal would remember opening the door. She would remember nailing mother-fucking Eric Finn dead center. And she would remember Preston grabbing her shoulders and pulling her back.

She had no memory of Eric Finn doubling over and tripping on his pants, or his hitting the floor at her feet, but he must have, because Preston later told her she’d been kicking the bastard in the head and ribs repeatedly before he yanked her away.

She was pissed at Preston; he and Eric Finn were All Men, just then. She twisted and hollered, but her blind rage subsided as quickly as she broke free. Hot fury gave way to iron determination.

No more girls were getting hurt tonight. Not like this.

Crystal turned and put herself between Preston and the bed. She noticed Eric Finn scrambling across the room and pulling up his pants, but her instincts held her at her post. Everything was protect the girl. Her mother had done it for her often enough, and damn if Crystal hadn’t done it for her mother the one, last time it really mattered. Now, it was time to protect this one. Protect the girl.

Preston looked confused and scared. Of the situation, or of her? Better be both, if he was smart. She looked over his shoulder toward the door. Fucker Eric Finn slipped past Brad Kruger, who had appeared in the doorway with Crystal’s hat askew on his curly-haired head. She found Brad’s eyes.

“Do you know who Carson Meunetti is?”

“I — yeah, I think…”

“Go get him. Go! And close the fucking door!”

Brad nodded, eyes wide. He whirled and slammed the door behind him.

Crystal glanced at Preston. “No one comes in but Carson.” She didn’t wait for his response before gently closing the girl’s legs. Her name was Lina. Lina Porter. That was it. Crystal crouched down next to her head.

Lina was still unconscious, snoring slightly. Crystal turned her head to one side so the girl wouldn’t choke on her own spit.

Brad found Carson in the back yard. “Dude, you’re Carson?”

“Yeah — Brad, right..?”

“Yeah. Come right now.” He held a hand in front of Carson’s old junior high school buddy, Jim. “Just you.”

Brad turned and took long, urgent strides back toward the house. Carson followed him. Something about the guy’s tone… it triggered primate instincts of alarm. Something was way wrong.

Brad opened Preston’s mom’s bedroom door and jerked his head toward the room. Carson wordlessly slipped past him. Brad closed the door, staying in the hall. Standing guard?

Carson saw Preston, saw Crystal… and then saw Lina. He was at the door, then he was on his knees next to the bed and at her side. No time, no distance, no steps between. Crystal made room.

“What…?”

Crystal’s voice was hard. “I think she was drugged. And would have been raped.”

Car looked at Crystal. She looked back at him. Over the years to come, Crystal would do a lot of stuff Car couldn’t condone. Even so, he would never deny her some compassion and the benefit of the doubt because of how she looked at him that night, and what she had done to save his best friend. He nodded to her, a wordless thanks.

“Was it…”

“Yep.”

Carson closed his eyes and swallowed. For a moment, he wanted to cry. That passed quickly into wanting to kill, and that was something new, something he’d never really felt before and never really understood, never really thought of as more than a movie cliché, but there it was: Carson wanted to see Eric Finn dead, and he wanted to do it, wanted to take Eric Finn’s breath, stop his heart, and do it with his bare hands.

It was too intense to last. All that mattered was that Lina was, if not okay, at least spared from what could have been.

He sighed heavily.

“I gotta get her out of here.”

Crystal nodded sharply and stood up. “Party’s over,” she said to Preston. “Get everybody out.”

Carson heard the door open and close. He kept his eyes on Lina.

“My parents are out of town,” he said. “I’ll take her back to my place. Make sure she’s… make sure she sleeps it off.”

Crystal didn’t answer right away. She saw the expression of love and worry and good solid caring on Carson’s face and bit her lip. They weren’t all Eric Finn. They weren’t all her god damn dad. They weren’t even all Preston.

“She’ll be all right,” she said.

Heather, soundly sleeping, breathed softly next to Alex. She lay on her side, facing him. The back of her hand just barely touched his forearm and moved slightly now and then as, he assumed, she dreamed.

Alex lay on his back and stared into the darkness. Sleep wasn’t happening; not for him.

He sighed. He was with the wrong girl.

Heather was the wrong girl.

Damn it.

He’d mistaken their unusual, emotionally intimate first meeting for something different, something… true. Man, he’d wanted it to be that. He really, really wanted something true. He really wanted to know what that was like; if it was even real.

He’d never experienced anything like the night at Grant’s, when he and Heather bared their souls while Grant and his girlfriend did their thing in the other room. It had seemed like something rare, remarkable.

Now, even laying in her bed after making love, Alex realized that while he and Heather had shared a lot of facts about each other, they didn’t really know each other. Not really.

It was the sex that drove that point home, for him, at least. Alex had only ever been with Eve, but he knew enough to understand that the first time with someone wasn’t necessarily indicative of how good it might get, with time. That was fine; Alex got that. The problem was that all the emotional intensity with Heather on Monday night was just flat out missing in action when they slept together.

Maybe that was his fault. Maybe he had expected too much; built the whole thing up to be more than it was; more than it could be, yet.

He sighed again. Heather stirred and mumbled in her sleep.

Alex hadn’t asked for the fantasy vision of Angel to pop into his head. He hadn’t known it would happen, and hadn’t expected it to push him into coming.

But it did.

Of course Alex had imagined Angel… that way… before. Even before Monday, when he’d started the first day of summer with a strong, confusing and utterly compelling urge to see her and she’d started to happen for him, it was only natural he’d envisioned her very female attributes now and then when he’d masturbated. But that had been… well, that was just convenient objectification.

The problem, or discovery, or… complication… was that when she’d popped into his head while he was having sex with Heather, it wasn’t exactly the thought of her body beneath him that did it.

It was the recognition that being on top of Angel was where he really wanted to be.

Alex grinned a little shamefully in the darkness. It was pretty crass, thinking of it that way, but the point was that he wanted to be with Angel. He had to know if their deep friendship, their multi-layered knowledge of and care for each other, would translate into something more.

He needed to know right now.

But how? Heather had driven them here. Damn.

It didn’t matter. He didn’t feel right, being here, and the urge to see Angel, to talk to her, to tell her… well, he’d figure that part out when he got there, but he needed to get there. He’d go find a phone – he remembered seeing a convenience store on the corner down the street from Heather’s place – and call a cab.

Very slowly and with great care, Alex slipped out from under the sheet and out of bed. His eyes were dark-adapted, but it was still a challenge to find all his clothing. Crawling on his hands and knees around the bed, he managed to find his shirt and socks. He buttoned his shirt and started to pull on the first sock, but he lost his balance and sat down heavily on the edge of the bed.

Heather woke up.

“Alex..?”

“It’s okay,” he whispered.

“Whuddayuhdoon..?”

Her sleep-fuzzed voice was endearing. Alex felt a pang of guilt. “I can’t sleep. It’s okay.”

She turned on the nightstand lamp and squinted at him. She held the blankets tight at her neck.

Alex was very aware that he was naked between his waist and shins. He grinned sheepishly. He spotted his underwear and scooped them up.

Heather frowned. “Where are you going..?”

“I’m sorry… I just can’t sleep.”

She shrugged. Alex saw her smile quiver slightly. “We don’t have to sleep. I don’t have to sleep. We can do whatever. Watch TV…”

Alex’s heart clenched. “I — I was just gonna head home.”

She turned her head. “Oh.” She frowned. “Um… how?”

He found his pants and pulled them up. A quick pat of the pockets assured him that his keys and wallet hadn’t fallen out.

“I… uh… I was going to call a cab,” he said. “I didn’t want to wake you. It’s really okay.” He smiled and hoped it didn’t look like mercy. “You sleep.”

Her smile came back, stronger. “It’s a crappy bed. I’ve been meaning to buy a bigger one. Now I have a reason.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, so he laughed quickly and bent to kiss her. She made that a little more of a production than he had wanted. He didn’t resist, but he was the one to break away first.

“Just hang on,” she said. “I’ll take you home.”

“I don’t –”

“Alex, please let me take you home. I’d feel stupid if you took a cab.” She looked uncertain again. “Did you have fun tonight? Did you… was it…”

“I had a great night.”

…to be continued!

Be sure to leave your comments on this installment!

Support “Hazy Days and Cloudy Nights”

This ongoing serial fiction series is free to read, but takes a lot of time and work to create. If you enjoy “Hazy Days and Cloudy Nights,” I’d like you to become my patron by compensating me for the experience.

One-Time Contribution

I think $0.99 is reasonable for a single installment of the serial, but feel free to contribute whatever amount you think is appropriate.

Recurring Contribution

New installments of “Hazy Days and Cloudy Nights” post twenty five times a year. If you’d like to provide regular support for my ongoing efforts to write the serial, please consider contributing on a automatically recurring monthly basis. I recommend $1.49 per month, but feel free to make your monthly contribution whatever amount you think “Hazy Days and Cloudy Nights” is worth.

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Hazy Days and Cloudy Nights Hiatus

Written on November 18th, 2009. Filed under Hazy Days and Cloudy Nights, Scribtotum. Tagged with .

Hey gang — just a quick note to the folks reading “Hazy Days and Cloudy Nights,” my ongoing serial fiction project.

I’m putting the future episodes on hiatus until January 4, 2010. This will give me the chance to:

  1. Finish the preparation for, and publish, “The Sovereign Era: Year One”
  2. Get two or three installments of “Hazy Days and Cloudy Nights” written ahead of time (maybe more?)

Finishing and publishing “The Sovereign Era: Year One” is the main reason. I have two creative obligations this autumn: the first was to prepare and package “Anyman: The John Smith E.P.” for sale and distribution through CD Baby.com. That’s all set — the album should be available for purchase as a CD or as MP3s pretty much everywhere at the beginning of December.

The second is “The Sovereign Era: Year One.” I have a few more edits to run through, and page layout to figure out, and then getting a proof back, etc. I’m committed to having all of that done before the end of Autumn, which gives me about a month.

So “Hazy Days and Cloudy Nights” is going to take a back seat for the moment. We’ll have to wait to see just what it was that Crystal saw when she opened that door… but who doesn’t love a good cliffhanger?

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Hazy Days and Cloudy Nights 01.011: How It All Got Started: The Party, Part Two

Written on October 24th, 2009. Filed under How It All Got Started. Tagged with , , , , , , , , , , , , .

Previously: Lina Porter thinks it might be time to break up with her cute older boyfriend, since no one likes him. Crystal Dubois has been playing gatekeeper at her boyfriend Preston’s party while he’s off having fun.

“The Party, Part Two”
Seeing Eric crouching by the stereo with Ian and Tammy, Lina realized with jarring clarity that she didn’t want to talk to him. A breath before she could look away, he raised his hand and motioned her to come over.

Lina turned to Carson. Just tell me to go with you, wherever you’re about to go, make a decision to take three steps away from the stereo, drag me with you, c’mon, Car…

Some loadie called to Car from the kitchen and Car turned in his direction. Lina touched his arm lightly.

Car turned; she smiled at him. Before she could grab hold of his sleeve, he gave her an apologetic grin and started to turn for the kitchen.

In the time it took for Car to slip out of reach, Lina decided she was being a little girl. Loadie-doofus was obviously some old buddy of Carson’s, and hell, she had called Eric Wednesday specifically to make sure he’d here so they could straighten things out. Time to make like a grown-up.

She went over to Eric, Ian and Tammy. Ian’s pupils were huge; he was already well on his way tonight. Tammy had a hand on his shoulder and a bored expression on her face. Eric stood up and offered Lina a hug.

She let him, but kept one arm at her side. Eric smelled like pomade, cigarettes and beer. When they broke their hug she put a finger under her nose to stifle a sneeze.

“Are you catching a cold..?”

His sideburns and pompadour somehow made his concerned expression… what? Lina couldn’t find the word. “No… don’t worry about it.”

Creepy?

Tammy stood and helped Ian to his feet. Ian spoke carefully. “We are going outside.”

Eric put his hands on Ian’s shoulders. He smiled and mocked Ian’s attempt to not sound wasted. “All right, Ian. You go outside.”

Ian shook his head, grinning. He looked at Lina as Tammy guided him past. He giggled at her, and it was absolutely more of a laughing-at than laughing-with kind of thing.

What the fuck?

Lina looked back to Eric, who had a beer in each hand. He offered one to her.

She took the bottle; it was already open and still cold. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He clinked their bottles together. “Cheers to ya.” He lifted his bottle to his lips and drank. His eyes stayed open. His eyes stayed on her.

For Lina, this was a little too much like the trailer. Except, thankfully, they were in Preston VanHart’s living room, Carson was a few feet away being assaulted by good will from the doofus, and there were fifteen or twenty other people all over the house.

If she was going to talk to Eric, she needed this drink. She drank. Eric smiled.

“All right,” he said. “So… you promised me you would call.”

“I did call.”

“That was Wednesday.” He wagged his index finger at her. “You told me in the car — you remember, when I came and picked you up after you walked out on me — that you’d call me the next day. Which would have been Tuesday.” He took a swig, swallowed, and grinned, triumphant and… what else? What was she seeing in him tonight she hadn’t seen before?

Oh, right. Eric was a dick.

Claire was right.

Everybody was right.

Lina was a loser, dating a loser.

Fuck.

She grinned right back. “You didn’t seem to care when I called you on Wednesday. Why bring it up now?”

“Hell,” he laughed. “You barely kept me on the phone long enough to bring it up. You just made sure I was coming here, and then you were all excuses to get off the phone.” He shook his head. “Seriously, Lina.”

“I was at Claire’s. It was, like, her phone.”

He laughed, short and ugly, and studied his beer. “Oh, I know. I could hear her in the background, making gagging noises like a ten year old.” He looked at Lina. “Like a bitch.”

Lina didn’t like looking at him. That was weird, because it was new. She took a long pull off the beer to hide it.

“How’s the beer?” Eric asked.

“Fine.”

In fact, it was hitting her hard. “Look, Eric…” She gritted her teeth; her throat felt tight and her equilibrium was going sideways. “Look, we need to talk.”

He nodded, smiling again. “Ah, right. The talk. Sure. C’mon.”

He went across the living room and toward the hallway with long, quick strides. “Hey!” Lina had to follow him. Her feet felt funny. She held on to the beer.

Eric opened the door at the end of the hall. “After you.”

Lina managed to slip past without touching him, but couldn’t avoid bumping hard against the door frame. She should have had more for dinner. She licked her lips, thirsty despite herself. A small sip wouldn’t do that much worse to her. Car was in the next room. House full of people.

She was in the master bedroom; Preston’s mother’s room, probably. She sat down heavily on the edge of the bed and grabbed the spread with one hand to keep a wave of dizziness from fucking with her.

“So.” Eric shut the door behind him. They were alone. “Give it to me, Lina.”

“Give you… what..?” Crap, how did she get so drunk? One beer! Her ears roared.

“The talk.” He took a step toward her. “Or did you bring me in here to give me something else?”

She didn’t bring him in here! He made her… she followed..!

Lina opened her mouth, ready to give him hell. Just as soon as she could make her head work. Make her head make the letters make words out of sharp squeaky sticks she couldn’t put together. Here they were…

Words.

Coming together.

Any second now.

Crystal tired of her post at the front door. She spotted potential relief. “Brad!”

Brad Krueger bobbed his head in acknowledgment and crossed the living room to her. “Hey, Crystal.” He was almost a foot and a half taller than Crystal and kept his chin down to talk to her. “Cool hat.”

“Thanks. Look, somebody’s gotta play doorman for a while. Preston doesn’t want those kids across the street to crash the party. I have to pee. And I want a beer. Can you…”

Brad nodded vigorously. “No problem, Crystal! Hey — do I get to wear the hat?”

Crystal took the pork-pie hat off her head and pushed it over Brad’s haphazard ball of curly brown hair. “You get to wear the hat.”

Brad grinned. “Nice.”

“Thanks!” Crystal decided to go for the beer before the bathroom. It would give her a chance to check in with Preston and see if he’d done his acid yet. That could go either way. She didn’t want to have to babysit him all night; she wanted to have fun.

She passed through the kitchen and went into the back yard. A few people were hanging out there; she nodded to Star Bell (girl belonged in a forties movie with a name like that, she thought for the millionth time…) and exchange a hug-and-hello with Dennis Vale. That was fun, if only because it made Dennis’ Barbie-doll majorette fiance Isabel stiffen with jealousy. Bitch.

No one was in the little one-room back house because Preston hadn’t yet turned on the hundreds of purple Christmas lights. That was the deal with a party at the House of Back — the level of fun / inebriation / wastedness needed to rise a little before the back house opened for business and people gravitated to its tight confines. Preston thought he was playing with the crowd; Crystal enjoyed the experiment but knew it wasn’t worth much when, let’s face it, there was no control group among their friends.

The back house was also where she and Preston had stashed a cooler of the good beer earlier this afternoon. Crystal went inside, found the cooler in the dim light and grabbed an Elephant. The bottle was wet from soaking in half-melted ice, which made it easy to scrape off the label. It wouldn’t do for people to wonder where or how she got something better than Corona and Miller Genuine Draft. She popped the cap with the bottle opener on her key chain and half-sneaked back to the main house.

So. No Preston in the living room, back yard, or back house. His room, then. She went down the hall and opened the door. Several expectant faces looked up through a cloying haze, including Ian Pinchley and Jeff Hargis. Jeff waved at her, his smile stiff from holding in the smoke from the toke he’d just inhaled.

Crystal let the sweet-smelling fumes come and go through her lungs, taking advantage of the contact high. “You guys seen Preston?”

Jeff croaked, “Nope,” and exhaled.

“Thanks.” Crystal stepped back into the hallway and closed the door. Might as well go to the bathroom.

She was reaching for the bathroom door when it opened. Crystal automatically took a step back.

Gail nearly bumped into her coming out, anyway. “Oh! Hi!”

Tall Skinny Gail. She wore a black sequined flapper dress that fell off her shoulders like a rectangle, accentuating her long, angular body. Her hair, waist-length and thick and honey-blonde and just about the only thing Crystal was genuinely envious of, was out of sorts. Her make-up was all fucked up.

Gail closed the door behind her.

Crystal sneered at her. “What are you doing here?” For that matter, when had the bitch slipped past her?

“I… oh, you know.” Gail tried to smile sweetly, but it was a soap-opera maneuver; both women hated each other’s guts. “Just hanging out.”

Gail brushed past her toward the living room. “You got nothing there to hang out, Tall Skinny Gail,” Crystal muttered. She reached for the bathroom door knob and stopped.

The light was still on in there.

Gail’s make-up was a mess. Why would she leave the bathroom without fixing herself up?

Her hair was disheveled. You’d have to work pretty hard to put hair that heavy out of place.

Where the fuck was Preston?

All these thoughts passed though Crystal’s mind in a fraction of a second. Furious, she opened the bathroom door.

Preston leaned against the sink. He grinned sheepishly. “Hi.”

The narrow, curling line of smoke rising from a little cone of incense on the sink counter hadn’t overpowered the sticky smell of sex. It was as thick as the pot smoke in Preston’s bedroom. Crystal hung on the door and swayed, momentarily paralyzed with rage.

Her voice came low from her throat. “You piece of shit.” Her lungs took in air heavy with incense and pheromones and that powered volume that notched louder with every subsequent word: “You mother fucking dick!”

“Crystal, hey, it not–”

Preston took a step toward her. She didn’t hesitate. She pushed him with both hands. It sounded like he fell back against the sink. but Crystal had already turned around, was already moving down the hall, forcing herself not to run, forcing herself not to cry.

In fact, fuck crying. She wanted to kill him. If she didn’t get away from him, she’d do it. And fuck him if he was going to make her have a scene in front of everyone here.

Half these assholes probably knew what was going on, anyway. Guaranteed everyone in Preston’s bedroom did. Had he smoked out Gail, too, before he fucked her over the goddamn toilet?

She needed to be away from everybody for five minutes before she could move through the house, get her shit and go home. If she saw that fucking bitch on the way, she didn’t care who else was around; she’d fucking clock her.

She needed five minutes. Five minutes to breathe, to put the wall back up, to not look like a fool. Get her stupid hat back from Brad.

She whipped open Preston’s mother’s bedroom door.

What she saw there did not improve her mood.

…to be continued!

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Support “Hazy Days and Cloudy Nights”

This ongoing serial fiction series is free to read, but takes a lot of time and work to create. If you enjoy “Hazy Days and Cloudy Nights,” I’d like you to become my patron by compensating me for the experience.

One-Time Contribution

I think $0.99 is reasonable for a single installment of the serial, but feel free to contribute whatever amount you think is appropriate.

Recurring Contribution

New installments of “Hazy Days and Cloudy Nights” post twenty five times a year. If you’d like to provide regular support for my ongoing efforts to write the serial, please consider contributing on a automatically recurring monthly basis. I recommend $1.49 per month, but feel free to make your monthly contribution whatever amount you think “Hazy Days and Cloudy Nights” is worth.

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Hazy Days and Cloudy Nights 01.010: How It All Got Started: The Party, Part One

Written on September 29th, 2009. Filed under How It All Got Started. Tagged with , , , , , , , , , , , , .

Previously: Alex Kent and Heather Leighton decided to cut their date short… to rush back to her place. Carson Meunetti embarrassed himself auditioning for a band that was out of his league.

Heads up, people: This installment of “Hazy Days and Cloudy Nights” contains explicit written depictions of sexual acts. It is not suggested for readers under the age of majority, or for anyone offended by sexual content.

“The Party, Part One”
It was well past nine o’clock by the time Carson drove up to Abbeque Valley to pick up Lina, spent a few minutes making small talk with her folks and little brother, drove back down to San Clemente and finally reached Preston VanHart’s house. It took another ten minutes to find a place to park.

“I’m gonna have to circle around.” Car chuckled; it was self-evident. “Obviously.”

“Yeppers.” Lina looked out the window at the parked cars.

Carson grinned. “Looking for someone?”

Lina sat back in her seat and sighed. “Not really.” She brushed imagined hair away from her forehead. “More like looking to see who’s not here.”

“Same diff.” Car found a spot about eight houses down the street, almost at the corner. He was glad for his little Volkswagen Bug as he slipped into the tiny space between the red curb and a pickup truck’s front bumper. “Are you gonna–”

“I don’t know.” Lina sounded impatient. “Okay?”

They’d been friends for a long time. Carson knew when to back off. “Okay.” He made a point of waiting until she looked at him, and then he smiled. “Really… okay.”

She looked grateful. “Thanks.”

They got out of the car and walked up the slight incline. Carson was surprised at the relatively low level of noise leaking out of Preston’s house. He could hear laughter and voices and an undercurrent of music, but nothing to give the neighbors cause to call the cops just yet. It figured – Preston wasn’t really one to blast his music. It was more important it be unique and uber-cool; it didn’t need to be loud to make you want to plug your ears.

The front door opened as they walked up. Crystal Dubois tipped the gray porkpie hat on her head. Pale makeup accentuated her dark eyes and red lips. She affected a carnival barker’s nasal tone. “Carson Meunetti, plus one!” She reached out her hand and Lina shook it.

“Hi. I’m Lina.”

“Crystal.” She gave Car a quick hug and whispered “kinda young…” in his ear. Her breath smelled of clove cigarettes.

He gave her a friendly leer, which she returned as she ushered them both inside with a wave of her arm. “C’mon, awreddy, yer lettin’ all the noise out.”

Inside, the lights were low. From the glowing stereo came a whine of feedback before the speakers screamed, “There’s a time to fuck and a time to pray but the Shah sleeps in Lee Harvey’s grave,” between machine gun splashes of percussion and guitars. Car saw that a few people lingered just inside the door and in the living room, but most seemed to be in the kitchen and out back. If Car knew this crowd, a few people would be in Preston’s room getting smoked out.

Ah, and there was Eric Finn, clustered near the stereo with Ian and Tammy. Finn raised his hand and beckoned; this confused Carson before he realized the wave was intended for Lina.

Behind him, someone hollered, “Hey! Carson fucking Meunetti! Dude!”

Carson automatically turned toward the kitchen and the source of the call. Lina touched his arm. He glanced back to return her quick, uncertain smile before she crossed the room to Eric.

“Dude!”

Much closer now, the owner of that voice punched Carson on the forearm.

“Hey!” Carson turned toward him. “Jim — dude, I didn’t know you’d be here.”

They clasped hands. “Yeah, I came down with Brett Flannery; you know him?”

“No, I don’t think so…” Car checked on Lina one more time. Was it cool to leave her? Was she okay?

Jim grabbed the nape of his neck and pulled him toward the kitchen. “Let’s get beered up and caught up, dude. How’s it going? Fuck! Fucking Carson Meunetti!”

Car let himself be led. “I know, huh? I haven’t seen you since… uh… junior high.”

“Totally,” Jim nodded. “Fuckin’ gnarly. So, like, how was high school and stuff, right?” He laughed, and just to be perfectly clear, said, “Hardy har, yuk yuk!”

Carson flinched a little when he saw Cary O’Dell, the short, musclebound guitarist from the Donny Zombie Murder Show, turn from the refrigerator with a beer in his hand. Cary saw Carson, turned to the guy next to him, and mumbled something Car couldn’t catch.

Cary’s friend laughed and looked at Car. Cary’s eyes and lips were narrow and smirking. “Hey, bro. Awesome practice the other day.”

As soon as Heather’s car stopped moving, Alex popped onto the driveway and jogged around to open her door for her.

“A gentleman.” Heather smiled.

“I aim to please.”

“Hm…” Heather rented a room in a house in Tustin. “Back here.” She walked him to the door and led him inside.

“It’s not much.” She flipped the wall switch near the door and a lamp next to her bed illuminated the room with soft light. “It’s a place to sleep.”

Alex put his arms around her. “Or not sleep.”

“Or not sleep,” she mumbled.

As they kissed, her tongue small and strong and slick, he ran his hands from the nape of her neck to the rise of her ass and back up her ribs, just grazing the side of her breast. She untucked his shirt, slipped her own hands underneath and grazed his back with her fingernails from his shoulders to the waistline of his pants. Her hands were cool… or his skin burned.

He walked Heather backwards to the foot of the bed and they half-tumbled onto the quilted spread. Alex kissed just below her ear, eliciting a quick inhalation, and tickled under her sweater across her belly. He resisted moving his hands higher. For the moment.

“Hold on,” she breathed. She bit lightly at his throat.

Too much? Alex withdrew his hand. “Oh… sorry…”

Heather laughed. “Not even.” She leaned across the bed… stretching deliciously… and turned off the little bedside lamp. Outside ambient light through the tightly closed window blinds barely kept the room from total darkness. Alex blinked and laid back.

He heard the soft rustle of cloth on cloth and the click of something brushing against the side of the nightstand. Then, Heather was on him. The delicious swaying pressure of her breasts against the front of his shirt told him she had removed her sweater and bra. Her mouth covered his and he put his hands on her smooth, bare back.

He wanted to touch her breasts, but Heather had other plans. She unbuttoned his shirt, kissing the his chest as she exposed it. With tongue and teeth she lingered on his nipples in a way that made him squirm. She kept moving, hands working deftly. He bent his knees and arched his back to oblige her intention to remove his slacks and underwear, and sighed when her hair brushed his groin and inner thighs.

He bucked involuntarily when she put her mouth around him, making her laugh deep in her throat. She bobbed her head and sucked while her tongue moved. Alex groaned, torn between allowing himself to be pinned and wanting to touch and explore her body in return. Heather’s head moved with methodical precision.

Of course it felt good, but the unvaried consistency of her technique soon decided things for him. He took hold of her upper arms and pulled her up, delighting in the hard trace of her nipples along his body. She kissed him and he rolled her over.

It was too dark to make out much more than the vaguest shadows of her body, so he let his mouth and hands explore, much as she had. He found the zipper of her skirt along her hip and slid it down, followed by the skirt itself and her panties. Heather sighed happily.

Alex straddled her hips. Heather’s legs parted slightly and her pubic hair tickled his balls. He ran his hands from her thighs to her ribs to her breasts, which proved to be full and firm in his palms. He bent down and found a nipple, which he circled with his tongue before nipping lightly. She whispered, “Oh. Yeah. Okay.”

He lingered there before attending similarly to the opposite breast. Her hands played in his hair. Her hips rotated under him. He slid down, kissing and licking and biting at her warm, smooth skin as he went. He wanted to taste her.

“Just…” Her voice was a clear whisper. “c’mon… put it in me…”

Change of plans, and a direction Alex could hardly object to. He slid back up. “Okay… need to get…” He fumbled in the dark, his dick deliciously brushing the warmth between her legs, and laughed. “Where’d you put my pants..?”

She giggled. “Lemme…” He shifted over her so she could move. She reached out and dragged his pants to his hand.

“Thanks…” He found his wallet and the just-in-case condom he kept there.

“Here… gimme.” She took the condom, pushed him on his back and rolled the rubber down his shaft. As soon as Alex felt the constriction of the condom around the base of his dick, he pulled her to him again. They kissed, hard and sloppy. Her skin was soft and cool and electric everywhere it touched his. He rolled her onto her back again and reached down to guide himself in.

They didn’t break their kiss until he slid inside her and started to move. She stiffened, slightly, momentarily, and relaxed again.

He wished he could see her face. This was an important thing, an important moment in whatever came next, whatever they were becoming. He wished he could see her face.

Alex lifted himself on his palms and slid in and out with smooth strokes, shifting his angle and depth to see what would feel best for her.

Heather’s hands rested lightly on his waist. Her breath came as half-sighs. Her body took his thrusts placidly. Maybe she wasn’t enjoying it? He leaned down and she turned her head to make it easier for him to kiss his way from her clavicle to an earlobe.

“Is this okay..?”

“Yeah…” She stroked his left side. “Yeah…”

Alex kept at it, still doing most of the work. In the dark, barely able to see her, her body softly bouncing with his efforts, it was starting to feel… off. Why did she want the lights off? Was she enjoying this? Her hand still moved along his side with little variation, almost like the unwavering precision she had used when giving him head. Alex twisted slightly; Heather’s hand stopped moving and settled back to a light grip on his ribs.

Alex realized he was distracted. He fought against it; tried to focus on the feel of her wet warmth surrounding him. He was having sex! With Heather! He pushed harder into her and picked up the pace.

She lay beneath him. Her little sighs didn’t change.

After a minute or so, she said, “Are you close..?”

He wasn’t. “Are you?” He panted.

She moved her hands to his ass, squeezing and kneading. “Don’t worry about me.” Her fingers teased between his rectum and his balls. “I want you to come.”

It sure wasn’t going to happen this way. He was frustrated and worried and his arousal was fading. “What about you..?”

“I want you to come,” she said again.

If he didn’t come; if he just wound down until they lay unmoving and sweaty… that would be an even bigger let-down than the sex was turning out to be. What was going on with them? Monday had been so awesome… he felt like he’d been deeper inside her just talking into the night than he did right now, fucking her. Maybe she would come when he did… maybe that got her off…

He got up on his knees and pulled her legs up, putting her ankles against his shoulders. She felt tighter around him, and that felt good. He knew it would be good enough. He picked up the pace, slapping against her.

He felt orgasm hanging inside him like a tight spring that wouldn’t uncoil. Distantly, he heard her sighs escalate to short, breathy grunts. He kept pounding.

It wasn’t happening; wouldn’t let go.

He tried to focus on the sensation, her little noises.

Instead, his mind presented him with an image of Angel Jenner beneath him, her eyes wide, her large breasts shaking.

That did it.

Away he went.

…to be continued!

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This ongoing serial fiction series is free to read, but takes a lot of time and work to create. If you enjoy “Hazy Days and Cloudy Nights,” I’d like you to become my patron by compensating me for the experience.

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New installments of “Hazy Days and Cloudy Nights” post twenty five times a year. If you’d like to provide regular support for my ongoing efforts to write the serial, please consider contributing on a automatically recurring monthly basis. I recommend $1.49 per month, but feel free to make your monthly contribution whatever amount you think “Hazy Days and Cloudy Nights” is worth.

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