Arnie was having another stupid party. The invitations called this particular celebration: WE DID IT (SURVIVED ANOTHER YEAR AND TRICKED EVERYONE INTO BELIEVING WE HAVE SOME VAGUE AMOUNT OF WORTH AND DESERVE TO CONTINUE OUR SAD PATHETIC EXISTENCES)! A School's Out Bash.
I arrived a little late. Arnie had invited me to dinner (And to set up), and I walked through the front door at midnight. I was not into moving furniture that evening. I was ready for intellectual, mature dialog with my peers. At Arnieıs party.
"Hey, John!" Bart yelped as I entered. He turned from painting anatomical parts on the doorknob to give me a big hug.
"Whatıs up, Bart?" I asked, trying to disengage. I was glad I was wearing my heavy army jacket; Bart was slobbering. "Howıs the bash?"
"Well, Iım not quite sure. I havenıt left the door for quite a while."
I checked the hill of bottles at his side. It had certainly been quite a while, I could tell. I thought Bart had sworn off Buddyıs after the 13th Street Incident with the Foreign Legion. Now that was a drunken stupor Iıll never remember! Bart had said heıd never have another drink as long as he lived.
"Reincarnation suiting you, Bart?"
Bart had no clue what I meant. I let it go. "Whoıs here?" I turned from to the human wall before me.
Bart hiccuped behind bleary eyes. "Well, Polıs here. He came early to set up."
I looked up and up to look Pol in the eye. "Howıs it hanging, Pol?"
"Damn Arnie!" Pol muttered. "I get here early, help the ratbag move his furniture around, and, as soon as the guests arrive, he tries to pass me off as a coat rack."
I tapped the tweed hanging from Polıs left ear.
"Convincing job."
Pol swiped off the dozen odd jackets, scarves and hats laying on his arms, revealing the huge frightening mass that is Pol Stein. No wonder Arnie tried to hide him from the guests. "Yeah, well, took me four hours to work my way out of the corner. Couldnıt see what I was doing with this fur on my nose. I gotta get out of here."
"Good to see you again, Pol." I said, as he rushed out the door to the opening elevator. It was the last coherent phrase Iıd negotiate for some time.
Pol stormed the elevator like piranha on a shank bone, and thats quick. Pol was so quick that he hardly noticed who he knocked down to catch the descending elevator.
"Sorry!" Pol called, behind closing metal.
He mustıve been blind.
On the floor before Bart and me was some vision of loveliness, let me tell you. Laying prone was a spandex-dressed red-head, about five eight, weighing just enough to have everything tight on her. her eyes, when they opened, would be a deep green. They were shut right now, as she was probably trying to figure out what a commando force was doing leaving the party so early.
I looked at Bart as he looked at me. What we were doing not looking at her was beyond me. I think we were trying to figure out how much Arnie had to pay to get her to accept his invitation to the party. Not that she was a hooker or anything, but if Arnie had known a woman this beautiful, weıd have known about it.
I jumped right next to the beautiful woman, hoping mouth-to-mouth resuscitation was needed. I tried to speak, but it wasnıt quite working.
Bart was on top of that. "Are you all right, Miss?"
She nodded, and gave me her hand. I tingled a lot, until I realized she wanted some help getting up.
"I think Iım all right," she said, her voice bubbly like champagne -- the new stuff, that hasnıt gone flat just yet. Weıre talking quality alcohol here.
"Sorry about our friend there." Bart said, "He was sort of in a rush."
"Friend? He?" This amazing woman was amazed, "That was just one person? I thought it was a football team, or an angry flock of yaks."
She was beautiful beyond compare, and she was a regular wit, too. True love, Iıd found. Again.
"Again, miss, I apologize for him. Be assured that when I next see Pol, Iıll be sure to give him a sound thrashing."
The image of perfection looked at Bartıs reedy form and chuckled. Bart seemed put off by that.
"Donıt bother," she said. "I mean, I appreciate the thought, but I couldnıt impose on you to defend my honor for me." She turned from Bart to me and smiled. She smiled at me! It made me think that maybe I could relearn how to speak. I decided I better learn quick, or the wedding might go a little slow.
"Hi." I said.
"Hi," the beauty said, "Iım Rae."
"Bart." My pal offered. How come he was getting all the good lines?
Rae put out her other hand to shake Bartıs.
I realized then Iıd never let her go after picking her up.
"And, grasping onto you, as if for dear life, is John."
This was beginning to annoy me. Bart had obviously been loaded just a few minutes before, as evidenced by obscenely painted doorknob and the saliva on my shirt. And now, Bart was at his most debonair and suavist, and I was tongue-tied as... a frog who was really tongue-tied. Bart, my buddy, my best pal, that deceitful scum, was about to steal my true love away from me.
I hate life.
I knew I had to take her affections back from my back-stabbing friend, so I came up with a plan and acted on it, like the wind.
"Well, seeyalaterbart!" I called, and pulled Rae into the party, dashing between people before Bart -- or Rae -- could stop me.
"Hey!" Bart called.
"Whatıre you doing, John?" Rae said calmly. Evidently, my one plan was not enough to carry the day. I realized I'd have to come up with another one, and quickly. It came to me in a flash.
"Canıt explain now," I said, and rushed her through the crowd, near the big window next to the terrace.
"All right," Rae said, sitting down, "What was that all about?"
"Iım sorry," I said, kneeling down beside her, "Itıs just that, well, itıs kind of embarrassing." I looked down in shame for the necessary moment, and looked back up. I was either going to propose marriage or lie through my teeth. Or both. "Well, I suppose you should know. Bart recently had a colonectomy."
Rae looked sick, and didnıt ask anything else. Iım glad she bought that, though why the correction of such a limited grammar impediment offends so many is beyond me.
Someone else was having trouble swallowing something, though. Caitlyn rushed past us, choking. Arnie was walking slowly after her.
"Hey, John," Arnie said with a platter, and stopped to chat, "Good to see you could make it. Wish youıd come earlier, though."
"Yeah, well..." I said, "Whatıs up with Caitlyn?"
"I think the Rat-On-A-Stick Sorbet didn't agree with her," Arnie said, and turned to Rae, "Hello."
"Hi," Rae said, putting out her hand, "Iım Rae."
"You most certainly are."
I looked at Arnie, a mite confused. "You donıt know each other?"
"Not yet," Arnie said, looking a little bit down Raeıs front, "Are you crashing my party, madam?"
"Not quite," Rae said, "An invited guest asked me to come. She said that the host was quite a man."
Arnie blushed a little. Just a little. "Well, yes, thatıs somewhat true. And who had this incredible character assessment?"
"Karen. You do know Karen, donıt you?"
Karen. I was afraid of that. Despite all of my protestations, Steve had gotten that beautiful basket of trouble into Arnie's house. Steve's official motivation was to have her make peace with the Edge. That's our group: me, Bart, Arnie, Pol and Steve make up the most powerful assortment of heroes you could imagine. The adventures we have are beyond compare. Like this one.
"Karen! Of course!" Arnie tried to play it off, "I should have known. Only someone as... clever as that babe would be able to tell you how wonderful I am."
"No doubt." I said. I figured Karen'd told Rae stories about Arnie that would make me blush, thus explaining the devilish grin Rae wore.
"Well, my lovely," Arnie leered, "If youıll excuse me, I really must be entertaining my other guests. John, may I have a minute?"
Arnie had begun walking away before I could say 'No.' So, when he looked back and saw I wasn't in tow, he pulled my left ear four feet out. At least I hear better now.
"Ow ow ow ow ow!" I said, which I assume Rae interpreted as 'Be back in second, you lovely lovely woman.'
Arnie stopped pulling me eventually, and I looked at him like he'd pulled me away from a woman I might have some very slight chance of getting to know somewhat better. It's a pretty specific look.
"Who is she really?" Arnie whispered, "And how'd she get to my party?"
"Come on, Arn. No real gate-crasher would name-drop Karen to get into your place. Everybody knows about the trouble she had with you."
"With the whole Edge," Arnie said. "I can cope with that hot mama over there being at my party, especially if she wants to, " he gestured at his tray, "sample my delicacies, but how'd Karen come to think she could come to my party?"
I looked at Arnie pathetically -- like he was pathetic, not me -- "Point one, you leave Rae alone. She's mine."
Arnie wasn't looking at me. He was staring past me, probably at the beauty that was Rae, and all that he'd miss because of the Code of Guys (Rule 14 - I saw her first). clearly, he knew better than to face me when I had the righteous wrath of the Code behind me. He smiled, "Sure."
"Point two, " I continued, picking up steam. "You photocopied your invitation cards. All anyone needed was to pocket a handful of invites and pop them in the mail to whomever you didn't want."
"Which explains your presence here."
"I'm no fool," I said.
Arnie raised an eyebrow.
"Steveıs been looking for you."
It's hard to be so popular.
"Right," I said consolingly to Arnie, and ran back to Rae. And Bart. Heıd found her.
"A colonectomy!" Bart laughed. "Hardly. Once, though, I was... Commatose."
Rae groaned politely. He sure seemed to be impressing her. My hopes were dashing on cliffs of despair as I was dashing to the couch of dı babe. See, with Bart, I had no prior claim of interest, so the chivalric Code did me no good. Iıd have to use a code of deceit. I was going to have to think of a new way to get Bart away, so I could have the woman's undivided attention.
Bart and I donıt usually go for the same women. I choose not to compete with my friends, since that creates bad feelings and jealousy and I don't win; and Bart's usually happily involved with his occasional girlfriend, Circe...
Bingo.
"Hey, Bart," I said, putting my hand on my buddy's shoulder, smiling widely at Rae, "Funny to see you here. Arnie just asked me to take the phone for you. Circe just called. Wondered what you were up to."
"Circe!" Bart jumped up, overcome by waves of guilt and nausea (I'm extrapolating a bit, I suppose), "But she's researching cross-town traffic cross-town!"
"Yep," I smiled, success mere seconds away. "I told her you were doing fine."
I think the right emphasis did the trick. Bart glanced at Rae, turned the appropriate shade of lime, made some speedy excuses, and wended his way to the only phone in the house. I hoped it was being used.
"So," I turned to my drop of golden sun, "What do you think of the party so far?"
"Seems manic. Interesting people, but so much activity!"
"Good point," I said, getting one of those moments of clarity that one has so rarely at Arnieıs place. The particular vision I had was of Steve in a pink and yellow polka dot tuxedo, across the living room, looking around with determination and depression. I was entranced by my vision, moreso because of horrid possibility that it might be real. And Steve was looking for me.
"Have you seen Karen here at all?" Rae said.
"Hm?" For a second, I forced my head away from what I prayed was a hallucination. In a suit as spiffy as that, heıd be bound to win Raeıs love from me. All the guys were out to get my woman, except for good old Pol; who had been generous enough to knock her down before leaving. I figured that if I ignored the Stevish mirage, it would go away, like bad grades.
"Karen. She was supposed to meet me here at midnight."
I looked across the room again; Steve hadnıt disappeared.
"What time is it now?" I asked.
"Half past. She said sheıd be here early. She was coming with someone."
Steve was just about to the couch, and his bloodshot eyes were looking straight at me. Iıd loved to have ignored him, but staring at him so made it a little difficult.
"Uh, Rae," I stood up, "I think I know someone who might know whatıs up with Karen. Iıll look into it."
"All right," Rae said, as I jumped up and nudged the Steve-apparition away from the couch.
"Hey, Steve," I said, "You look like Death Warmed Over."
"Good to see you, too, John." Steve did not look happy. He had a wild look in his eyes, his hair was unkept, his nose was all wrong, and he smelled. Also, his shirt was a brown striped job, which hardly matched his incredibly neat suit. A very depressed, very depressing picture. If heıd looked any worse, heıd be either on trial or display.
"Whatıs up, boy?" I asked. "You feeling all right? Make it quick; Iım on to something with that bit oı stuff."
Steve didnıt change his sunken expression, but he did seem a little surprised. "You, John? Do you remember the last time you had a date?"
I thought back. And back. And back. Then a little further, all to no avail.
"1645. You havenıt been romantically involved in four lifetimes!"
I really wished I hadnıt confided in Steve that information from my hypnotist. This was an embarrassing moment.
"Right, Steve. What was it you wanted?"
Steve looked down to his mismatched shoes. One bespatted and one high top. "I wanted someone to talk to. Bartıs drunk, Arnieıs a host, and Polıs pretending to be a doormat."
"Coat rack," I corrected.
"No, heıs outside now. Arnie saddled him into another job."
That meant Pol would soon be after Rae too (and he had such a good opening line all set up, I'll bet: "Sorry for sweeping you off your feet, earlier. I could do it again, if you'd like"). I needed to get back to the woman before all chance of eternal happiness was overturned because of ridiculous friends.
I looked Steve over. Like I said, he looked ungood. He seemed like he needed some emotional counseling. Steve needed a friend.
I could spare a couple of minutes.
Turning to the woman of my dreams, I said, "Rae, Iım gonna talk to my friend over there. He needs some support, and Iım just the kind of sensitive new age guy to give it to him. He thinks Karen said sheıd join you right here, a little later."
"Well," Rae began to stand, "I guess Iıll just mingle then."
"No!" I yelled, pushing her down, "Donıt do that! She said she wouldnıt be that late. Stay here."
Rae looked perplexed. That must mean she was getting to know me better. "All right." She said slowly.
"Iıll see you later," I responded with a sigh, and pushed Steve onto the patio.
"Whatıs wrong?" I said to him, trying not to seem hurried. "Whatıs on your mind?"
"Itıs Karen," he moaned. "She doesnıt want me."
Karen. Of course. If my brain hadnıt been so love-addled, I would have seen this coming immediately. The brown shirt he had on was his lucky one. I didnıt see how that explained his nose, but Steve might clarify. In time.
"So I get her invited to this party and, I call her to make sure she's coming."
Interesting. That call was probably the first time he'd spoken to her since their aborted... romance a few months back, before Arnie attacked her with a water gun.
"What'd she say?"
"She asks if she could bring a friend."
Rae.
"Bad sign, right?" I mean, if she brings a guy to the party --"
I was about to correct Steve's fatuous incorrectitude, when it occurred to me he might try to talk to Rae if he knew she was Karen's buddy.
So I stroked my chin instead.
"So, I haven't seen her in months, and I figure it'd be nice to see her before the mob scene --"
I looked around. There were about fifty people in a room somewhat bigger than a bathroom. Mob scene sounded right. It was a wonder that Arnie could convince so many people to pretend to be his friends, even for free food and alcohol.
"-- So you staked out her place and waited for her to leave for the party."
Steve nodded. "I conveniently bump into her on the street around eleven, and we walk over."
"How was it?"
"Cool," Steve said, piercingly, "Like old times, before she got that mistaken impression I was a gangsta boy."
Neither of us mentioned who gave her that impression. No reason up bad feelings about our host.
"So, in the elevator up here, I thought 'this is great!' We're alone, so I figure it's the perfect time to... pop the question."
"Pop the question?"
Steve nodded. I had no idea what the question was. I donıt know if Steve knew, either.
"So, the elevator's slow. I take out my ring and ask her if sheıd like to wear it."
"You gave her a ring?" Maybe it was marriage.
"My old Captain Decoder Spy-Snicker Ring."
"Rightie-o. So what does she do now?"
"She gives it back, and tells me she doesnıt wear rings."
"And? Does she get the point of what youıre trying to tell her? " What Steve was trying to tell her was still unclear to me. Anthropologically, it was evidently some sort of American mid-20th Century custom of offering up a possession to a potential mate, to assess if they have reciprocal carnal/sexuo/sensual desire. But it didnıt resonate for me on a personal level.
"So she says, ıSteve, this is a very sweet and nice gesture --ı"
"--The touch of death--"
"-- and I still like you a whole lot, but I just donıt want to get involved with you now.ı
"Thatıs it," Steve continued, "In one phrase, that's it. I felt so hurt and impained, I didnıt know what to do. I made my excuses and got out of there."
"There being the elevator? Was it between floors?"
"No. I was patient enough to wait until we got here."
"Good. Whereıs Karen now?"
"Sheıs wandering around the party, I guess, looking for her friend."
"Her friend?" Rae!
If Karen and Rae hooked up, Rae would have someone she knows who knows everyone here, and I wouldnıt be able to introduce her (or not) to people. Rae wouldn't need me, and Iıd never be able to prove my value to Rae, if Karen found her.
"Steve. I think youıre giving in too easily."
"She told me she wasnıt interested."
"Yes, but you donıt know why yet, do you?"
"Who cares? She doesnıt want me. Thatıs what counts."
"No. Itıs not. Maybe sheıs playing hard to get. Maybe you misunderstood. Maybe sheıs changed her mind. Youıre giving in too easily, Steve!"
Steve was comforted by my words, and, much more strangely, empowered. I almost had him suckered "You think so?"
"I know so!" I opened the patio door and shoved Steve back inside. "Go to it, Tiger!"
And now, back to Rae.
Rae was sitting right there, on the couch at which I'd left her. Perfect. No one was talking to her. She was looking around. I was in the perfect position. Now I could talk to her uninterrupted.
"Hey, Rae," I said, sitting next to her.
Rae turned to me and smiled a beautiful smile. An incredible smile. A smile that left me speechless. Really. Whatever had been the problem before, while Bart was around, was back. My first moment alone with the object of my desire, my first chance to win her love, and all my tension and worries came back, in full force. I couldn't say word one to the beautiful creature to my side.
Someone must like me, though, because just then, I heard music. Good music. Danceable music. It was Run=EMC2, throwing down lines from their early single, "It's Tricky (To Postulate)." This song could save me.
"Let's dance!" I cried, and pulled Rae up, getting into my grooving pose. After collapsing to her feet, Rae seemed more than ready to comply.
I was glad that I'd gotten rid of the guys. They give me a lot of crap about my dancing. but I'm really a pretty accomplished dancer (I accomplish a lot of laughs, rips, bruises, screams and tears); I just get nervous when there are people around me grinning unbearably and calling out, "Git down, funky jewboy!"
None of that, this time. Just me and my girl kicking and jumping and smacking our way to paradise, rocking the town to early hip-hop beats. My opinion about dancing is, if you're not having fun, what's the point? And if you have fun by jumping up and down and doing the hustle and clapping off-beat and sweating like a pig, why not? After the initial drops of sweat came from my brow, I knew I was doing it right, and I put on my happy face. Soon, I was dripping too much to see what kind of a face Rae wore.
The next number up on the turntable was a scorching rocker, Eda Hostillo's "What's So Funny ('Bout Peace Love And Chocolate Chip Cookies)?" It was a number I could relate to, one that made me want to move and groove some more. I guess it showed, because before I knew it, a huge space had been cleared for me to do my thang (Code of Guys Rule 23 - Leave nutcakes alone), which involved a lot of jumping, slamming, leaping, kicking and yelling. Enough people at the party must have known how I react to Eda Hostillo, and gave me room for my thang. I strutted my stuff for about half the number, before I realized that I was dying. The kind of dancing I do requires certain energy levels that only the best non-nuclear power plants could maintain for more than three minutes. I plopped back on the couch, wondering if Rae would follow me back and try to talk. An off-base assumption, because I saw she was already on the couch when I wiped the sweat from my eyes to see again. There was a look of shock, horror and humor on her face. Could it have been... love?
"Do you normally dance like that, John?"
'Yes, you incredibly beautiful creature. Will you marry me?' would have been the optimal reply, but all that came out was nothing.
I'm usually more eloquent than that. Why do women do this to me?
I nodded, to get part of the point across. I don't think the proposal transferred effectively.
"Oh," She said. Rae hardly seemed to have worked up a sweat. I love a woman who doesn't sweat. It means our children won't drown. "Well," she said, looking for some thread of conversation to pick up, but there was none. There wasn't anything left for her to say to me, except what she finally came up with: "Did you find Karen?"
A direct question, one I should probably have been able to answer. I don't usually have trouble talking. Arnie'd say I have trouble not talking. Usually, when I need to, I can come up with some really brilliant lines and dialog, like how I got rid of Steve, Bart, Arnie, and Pol (Well, credit for removing Pol actually lies with Arnie, I suppose, but I would've gotten him to be a doormat if I had to), but now --
"John?"
I snapped back. "Umm, I just asked my friend to find her for me -- you. Karen'll be coming over shortly, I think."
Dialog was not working out. The Chinese -- or was it Wildean? -- curse was hitting me full in the face: "May you get what you want."
As Bart came toward me again, it was almost a relief. If he were to kill me in rage for tricking him, at least I'd be out of my misery.
"Excuse me, Rae," Bart said, extracting me from the couch to the patio. If I wasn't already familiar with every aspect of the house, I would be now. Bart must have been calling on those superhuman reserves of energy people have in emergencies, because I was just so much dead weight, and Bart tossed me like a cookie.
"Circe's out, John!" Bart was slightly upset, "I called her place, and they said she'd gone out!"
Even in the clouded depression my mind was locked into, I could see this conversation going one of two ways: On the one toe, Bart could easily see through my web of deceit, accuse me of lying to him, that Circe never called and that I'd tricked him so I could make time with Rae. Or, Bart could still be feeling the affects of alcohol.
Bart belched.
"Circe's hunting me down now, isn't she, John?"
Interesting... Bart slobbered on me.
"Y'gotta help me, John! Did she sound like she was coming over to beat me for talking to another woman, or was it just to break up with me?"
Neither option sounded much like Circe, the calmest, most analytical of lovelies, but who was I to argue? Bart's state of mind was taking my mind off my state of mind, which was a good state to be taken out of.
"Which seems worse to you?" I asked, before double-taking to Vision of Steve, Take Two. My life was taking what I had always assumed were Felini-esque attributes, with so many things that I couldn't understand going on before me. Actually, this was to the side of me. Through the slightly opened screen to the house from the patio, I saw what looked like the same snazzy Steve, only with Karen, approaching Rae. It was too cinematic to be true. They were approaching the couch that Rae had seemed to make her base. Well, Karen seemed to be approaching the couch; Steve was approaching us. Karen sat down next to Rae, hugging in greeting, and Steve came onto the patio to see some of his best buds, each in an independent state of shock. I could see the look of pain and guilt and shame back on his face.
I found my tongue. "News?" I asked.
"Sorta," Steve replied, closing the patio door, ending my view of Rae and Karen's embrace. Then all I could see was Mahogany. Now, all chance of winning Rae's love was gone (like it wasn't before. I knew I had no chance with a woman I couldn't speak around, but that didn't stop me from feeling nostalgic over love lost).
Wistfully, I turned to Steve.
"What up?"
"What's going on?" Bart asked desperately. Everything Bart was doing seemed desperate. He was really nervous; I could almost believe that Circe was coming.
"She's not meeting a boyfriend," Steve began.
Of course not. I nodded.
"Who what?" Bart said.
"It's a girl," Steve sighed, "And she'd like me to meet her."
I blinked. Karen wanted to set up my beloved with my best pal.? I'd be more jealous if I hadn't given up on the girl just a moment ago.
"Why're you upset?" Bart said, struggling to get on track.
"Karen says her friend's smart, beautiful and tolerant of fools." Steve said forlornly.
I regretted not chatting up Rae even more. "So what's the problem?"
Steve sighed big-time, "She's trying to get rid of me, and I'm not over her. She probably does have a boyfriend."
"Karen?" Bart said, "The one that beat Arnie up?"
Bart's so behind the times, but even in his nervous, drunken state, could muster up the appropriate sympathy for Steve's love lost. "Sorry," he said, hand on Steve's shoulder.
"Yeah," Steve nodded.
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