Chapter Seventeen, Part II
Visiting Hours
The second time around, we decide that a reprise of Xscape is unnecessary, but the subsequent shuffle lands me on Z. I perform a decent rendering of “Tush” by ZZ Top, and am halfway through loading up when I remember something I have to check with Ruby. She’s still at her table, mooning over Harry. They’ve decided to sleep in their own beds tonight, so they’re extending the evening as long as they can.
“Hi guys. That was fun, wasn’t it?”
“Shore was,” says Harry. “Next time, we go numerical!”
“Three Dog Night,” says Ruby.
“Four Non-Blondes,” says Harry.
“10,000 Maniacs,” I say. “Where’s Steve?”
“Smoke break,” says Ruby.
“Your brother’s a chimney,” I say.
“Yes,” says Ruby. “But a functioning chimney.”
I make a mental note to someday figure out what’s going on with that boy.
“So Rubbayat,” I say.
“Omar Khayam?”
“I’ve got a KJ gig for a holiday office party, and I need a soloist to do a couple of the CEO’s favorite tunes.”
“What’re you? Braunschweiger?”
“I don’t need a singer. I need a performer.”
Ruby purses her lips in a way that probably drives Harry crazy with lust. “Name the songs.”
“‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’ and ‘Christmas Song.’”
“Sold!” says Ruby, slapping the table. “And I also want to marry the CEO.”
“Hey!” says Harry. “I might have picked the same songs.”
“My ass! You woulda picked that hip-swingin’ lip curlin’ trailer trash you’re so in love with.”
“I’m sorry,” says Harry. “I didn’t hear a word after you mentioned your ass.”
“We’ll discuss my dairy-air tomorrow night, Bubba.” She crawls up his chest for a lingering kiss, then she looks back at me and her face winds down like a clock.
“Um… Channy? Could I talk to you outside? It’s a feminine matter.”
“Oh. Yeah, sure.”
Harry, being Harry, has to throw his two cents at our departure.
“Don’t tell her any of my secrets!”
I have no idea which one of us he’s addressing, but I guess that’s part of the joke. We pass Steve just outside the entrance, puffing away, and Ruby says, “Fifteen minutes, hermano mio.”
“Grassy-ass,” he mumbles.
The rain has passed, leaving the asphalt clean and slick. Ruby takes me to a seawall overlooking the harbor. Our distance from the bar makes me wonder about the radioactivity of her subject matter. She stops and turns, her breath puffing in the cold air.
“Okay. I don’t know if my surging hormones are tripping my gyno-radar, but you are transmitting this aurora borealis of sadness that is deeper than Billie Freakin’ Holiday.”
Little did I know about the hot button lurking beneath my skin, waiting to be pressed in just this fashion.
“Why are guys such dicks? Showing off their catches like they just landed a marlin off the Florida Keys… What the fuck is that?”
Ruby reaches to touch me, and I whack her hand away. I’m poison ivy, I’m cactus – no one should touch me. Then I see a line of blood where I’ve scratched her wrist.
“Oh! Shit, Ruby. My bracelet.”
“It’s okay,” she says. “It’s nothing.”
“God, I’m being an idiot. Why am I being an idiot?”
Ruby pulls out a tissue and dabs at her wrist. “I’ve got a theory,” she says.
We stop to watch a small boat chug past, a large gray-bearded man standing at the wheel.
“So,” I say. “What’s your theory?”
“I’ll tell you if you let me touch you.”
“Sure,” I say, but her caring tone is sending me deeper into my funk. I set my elbows on the seawall and prop my weary head on my hands. Ruby rubs the back of my neck. It feels good.
“A guy likes a woman; a woman likes a guy. He asks her out, but she’s too wounded to say yes. Still, she’s kinda hopin’ he’ll be there at the hospital entrance when she finally checks out. But she looks out her window one night and finds him at a restaurant across the street, having dinner with some fucking blonde best-seller.”
I find my face sinking deeper into my hands. The only way to keep from crying is to continue being a smartass.
“Put another bullet through my heart, why dontcha?”
Ruby laughs, and sings a quiet recitative into my ear. “Isn’t that why you gave me the bullets in the first place?”
Next: Welcome to the Army
Image by MJV
Purchase the book at: http://www.amazon.com/Outro-Michael-J-Vaughn/dp/1440111405/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1231020486&sr=8-1
Visiting Hours
The second time around, we decide that a reprise of Xscape is unnecessary, but the subsequent shuffle lands me on Z. I perform a decent rendering of “Tush” by ZZ Top, and am halfway through loading up when I remember something I have to check with Ruby. She’s still at her table, mooning over Harry. They’ve decided to sleep in their own beds tonight, so they’re extending the evening as long as they can.
“Hi guys. That was fun, wasn’t it?”
“Shore was,” says Harry. “Next time, we go numerical!”
“Three Dog Night,” says Ruby.
“Four Non-Blondes,” says Harry.
“10,000 Maniacs,” I say. “Where’s Steve?”
“Smoke break,” says Ruby.
“Your brother’s a chimney,” I say.
“Yes,” says Ruby. “But a functioning chimney.”
I make a mental note to someday figure out what’s going on with that boy.
“So Rubbayat,” I say.
“Omar Khayam?”
“I’ve got a KJ gig for a holiday office party, and I need a soloist to do a couple of the CEO’s favorite tunes.”
“What’re you? Braunschweiger?”
“I don’t need a singer. I need a performer.”
Ruby purses her lips in a way that probably drives Harry crazy with lust. “Name the songs.”
“‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’ and ‘Christmas Song.’”
“Sold!” says Ruby, slapping the table. “And I also want to marry the CEO.”
“Hey!” says Harry. “I might have picked the same songs.”
“My ass! You woulda picked that hip-swingin’ lip curlin’ trailer trash you’re so in love with.”
“I’m sorry,” says Harry. “I didn’t hear a word after you mentioned your ass.”
“We’ll discuss my dairy-air tomorrow night, Bubba.” She crawls up his chest for a lingering kiss, then she looks back at me and her face winds down like a clock.
“Um… Channy? Could I talk to you outside? It’s a feminine matter.”
“Oh. Yeah, sure.”
Harry, being Harry, has to throw his two cents at our departure.
“Don’t tell her any of my secrets!”
I have no idea which one of us he’s addressing, but I guess that’s part of the joke. We pass Steve just outside the entrance, puffing away, and Ruby says, “Fifteen minutes, hermano mio.”
“Grassy-ass,” he mumbles.
The rain has passed, leaving the asphalt clean and slick. Ruby takes me to a seawall overlooking the harbor. Our distance from the bar makes me wonder about the radioactivity of her subject matter. She stops and turns, her breath puffing in the cold air.
“Okay. I don’t know if my surging hormones are tripping my gyno-radar, but you are transmitting this aurora borealis of sadness that is deeper than Billie Freakin’ Holiday.”
Little did I know about the hot button lurking beneath my skin, waiting to be pressed in just this fashion.
“Why are guys such dicks? Showing off their catches like they just landed a marlin off the Florida Keys… What the fuck is that?”
Ruby reaches to touch me, and I whack her hand away. I’m poison ivy, I’m cactus – no one should touch me. Then I see a line of blood where I’ve scratched her wrist.
“Oh! Shit, Ruby. My bracelet.”
“It’s okay,” she says. “It’s nothing.”
“God, I’m being an idiot. Why am I being an idiot?”
Ruby pulls out a tissue and dabs at her wrist. “I’ve got a theory,” she says.
We stop to watch a small boat chug past, a large gray-bearded man standing at the wheel.
“So,” I say. “What’s your theory?”
“I’ll tell you if you let me touch you.”
“Sure,” I say, but her caring tone is sending me deeper into my funk. I set my elbows on the seawall and prop my weary head on my hands. Ruby rubs the back of my neck. It feels good.
“A guy likes a woman; a woman likes a guy. He asks her out, but she’s too wounded to say yes. Still, she’s kinda hopin’ he’ll be there at the hospital entrance when she finally checks out. But she looks out her window one night and finds him at a restaurant across the street, having dinner with some fucking blonde best-seller.”
I find my face sinking deeper into my hands. The only way to keep from crying is to continue being a smartass.
“Put another bullet through my heart, why dontcha?”
Ruby laughs, and sings a quiet recitative into my ear. “Isn’t that why you gave me the bullets in the first place?”
Next: Welcome to the Army
Image by MJV
Purchase the book at: http://www.amazon.com/Outro-Michael-J-Vaughn/dp/1440111405/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1231020486&sr=8-1
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