Now look at our man here. He was standing on the sidewalk around the corner from Taix, his eyes going over the words “DIE FAG!” etched in butter across the windshield of Zach’s SUV. You can’t exactly blame our Jellwagger for being stunned. He’d never had gay friends before. It just wasn’t the same back in Jersey. In L.A. people lived their lifestyles much more in the open, and to hell with you if you had a problem with it. Only problem was, once in a while you’d meet someone who did have a problem with it. I mean a real problem, to the point that they had no qualms about threatening your life.
This Jellwagger here? He’d never had anyone do that to him. Call it luck combined with the fact that, like many other writers and data entry clerks, it was his nature to stay the hell out of your way. Now here he was having just had dinner with his gay coworker and his companion, two guys who’d exited the closet decades ago. Was this stick of butter their first brush with a death threat? Jellwagger was guessing no, judging by how Zach didn’t miss a beat in retrieving a half-drunk bottle of water and old Sunset Junction T-shirt from the back of the SUV. He wet the shirt and wiped off the words pretty easily. Grant, meanwhile, apparently still high from the good food and drink and rollicking concert, picked up the impaled butter and smiled at it.
“Wow.” Despite his smile, his voice was at its most deadpan. “Hey babe, I think this is Land O’ Lakes.” Grant sniffed it. Then he smeared a bit on his index and licked it. “Yeah.” He caged his teeth and gave the butter his best deadpan stare. “Yeah. Land O’ Lakes.” He looked at Jellwagger and shook the butter at him, the knife still in it. “If someone threatens you with butter, pray they use quality butter. You a butter man, Jellwagger?”
Jellwagger stared at him and couldn’t help his mouth falling open.
Zach gave the windshield another scrubbing before tossing the bottle and shirt back in while Grant carefully extracted the knife and studied it. “Wow.” He slid the same index along the edge. “Wow. Just that little bit of contact peeled skin.”
“Ready, amigos?” Zach was standing next to the driver’s door. “Sweetie, are you going to keep that?”
“Oh I’m definitely keeping the knife,” Grant said. “This might be the sharpest knife I’ve ever seen. Seriously. You want a feel?”
“Jellwagger, you up for some art?”
“Oh yeah,” Grant said. “Sculpture. Gimme the post-post-modernist sculpture any night of the week.”
“Jellwagger?” Zach said.
It was only then that Jellwagger realized he was still staring at the windshield. He turned to Zach with a start.
“You okay, my friend?” He smiled and sucked. “Grant and I were thinking of going to an art exhibit.”
“Mind you, we’re using the word exhibit kind of loosely. It’s the garage of this guy’s house in Silverlake.”
“He’s a sculptor like my sweetie here. Only not as good, obviously.” His sucking was extra loud.
“Oh Sky’s great,” Grant said. “He’s like this little knife here. At first you underestimate him because he’s, well, let’s just say…”
“He’s flaming,” Zach said.
“Very effeminate. He comes off like a bubble head, but don’t let that fool you. He’s smart as a whip, that guy.”
“And he likes to make sculptures out of old computers,” Zach said.
“It’s so fucked up,” Grant said. “The guy buys a computer a year, sometimes two. Then he’ll use them for a few months the way they’re meant to be used. I’m not sure what the fuck he does on them…” Grant smirked before laughing himself red. “I think he just uses them to e-mail.”
“He was keeping a journal on one of them,” Zach said. “He’s the only person I know who’s ever used Windows Notepad.”
Grant laughed his ass off and had to hold onto the hood for support while Zach smiled and sucked several times.
“So you up for it, amigo? A little bit of computer sculpture to cap off the day?”
Jellwagger shrugged. “Whatever, man. You know? What the fuck? I’m sort of freaked the fuck out right now, but if you want to go to some fucker’s garage to look at old computers? Cool, man. Let’s go. This day couldn’t possibly get more fucked up.” Without waiting for a response, Jellwagger marched to the rear passenger door, pushed the T-shirt and water bottle over, got in, and slammed the door.
That little outburst pretty much shut everyone up for a good five minutes or so. It was a quick drive to Silverlake. As with Taix, they had to park a good block or two away. While driving by what was obviously Sky’s house judging from the crowd, Jellwagger caught a glimpse of who he guessed was Sky himself. He looked about the same age as Grant and Zach, only with a full black beard. Was he wearing a robe? Jellwagger didn’t have enough time to see, plus he was sort of distracted by the fact that Sky was waving his arms in a sort of slow dance while the crowd laughed and clapped. Jellwagger couldn’t see the sculptures but did get a glimpse of the bare bulb hanging from the garage ceiling at the end of an orange extension cord.
“So amigo,” Zach said, smiling and sucking.
Jellwagger turned to him with a start. Zach was looking at him through the rearview mirror.
“You okay?”
“Earth to Jellwagger, this is Houston,” Grant said.
Their nonchalance was pissing him off. How could they make jokes?
Grant turned around to look at him. For an instant his deadpan look betrayed a hint of concern. He turned back around. “I think our young amigo is in a right state,” he said.
Zach turned a corner and parked along the curb. “Listen, Jellwagger. Stuff like that happens, okay?” He put the SUV in park, turned off the engine, and turned to face Jellwagger. “You are blessed enough to live in a world where heterosexuals are considered normal. Unfortunately, that comes at a huge cost to the gay community. They won’t even let us get married for Christ’s sake.”
“I voted No on Prop 8,” Jellwagger said.
“Of course you did,” Zach said. “I can tell you’re a decent guy. A bit fragile maybe. A delicate flower perhaps. But you’re a swell kid.”
“And you obviously don’t get out much at all, Jellwagger,” Grant said. He reached over and rubbed the top of Zach’s hand. “I don’t know if I told you, sweetie, but our Jellwagger here is a budding screenwriter.”
“Oh so you’re a writer,” Zach said. “Grant and I have a bunch of writer friends. I admire the dedication it requires, but it comes at a cost, does it not? It’s a very solitary occupation.”
“What my better half is trying to tell you, Jellwagger, is that if you got out more, you’d see in no time flat that things like the butter on the windshield happen to people like us. All. The fucking. Time. That’s why we take it in stride. It’s just some fucking asshole who hates his life.” He shook Zach’s hand. “Come on, babe, let’s go. The Sky will fall if we don’t get there soon.”
The street they’d parked on formed a fairly steep incline. At least it seemed steep to Jellwagger. He’d been living in the Valley for years, and that place was flat as a board. From here the views of downtown were spectacular, but he wondered if it was worth it. To live here meant spending a healthy chunk of change for one of these dinky little houses that barely had a crack of space between them. How could anyone stage an art show here without alienating the entire neighborhood?
Jellwagger got the answer soon enough. Apparently many of the thirty or so attendees were also neighbors. While the driveway and sidewalk saw a decent crowd, many others watched from the front steps of the surrounding houses. Sky was still in the midst of doing whatever he’d been doing when they drove by.
“Oh wow,” Grant said with his deadpan look. “Wow.”
Jellwagger could barely see Sky through all the people. Dude was basically taking these wide steps from side to side in front of the crowd, many of whom were in outfits Jellwagger couldn’t begin to understand. Was that one guy wearing a shower curtain? Another one had a Lone Ranger mask, no shirt, cut-off jean shorts, pin-striped stockings, and Converse sneakers, a sort of porn version of the Hamburgler. A few others were dressed the way Jellwagger did at the firm, complete with shirt, tie, and slacks. And then some others simply wore jeans and T-shirts with random shapes or funny little one-liners. Perhaps his favorite was a particularly well-endowed young woman in a red shirt with the word “Rental” along the front. Many of them half-watched Sky’s shtick while they swigged beers or sipped wine or martinis and chatted. Every little bit Sky would swing his arms in circles over his head like a human windmill on crack.
“Wow,” Grant said again.
Jellwagger frowned to and from Grant and Sky. “’The fuck’s he doing, Grant?”
“Let’s give Sky a few minutes,” Zach said. “I think he’s at the part where he’s trying to demonstrate the theme of this particular exhibition.” He smiled and sucked at Jellwagger’s bafflement. “You have so much to learn, amigo.”
“Oh my heavens, is that my favorite fag couple this side of East L.A.?” Sky pranced through the crowd and emerged in front of Jellwagger in all his bearded and robed glory.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Jellwagger couldn’t help saying as he took in Sky. What was that robe made of? Silk? The fuchsia did have a sort of sheen to it courtesy of the amber street lights, but it shone better in certain parts than others. And that fucking beard. It was so long that dude used fuchsia ribbons to make pony tails. All told, Sky looked like what would happen if Little Edie from Grey Gardens had a kid with Paul Bunyan.
“Everyone, look who’s here,” Sky said with a flourish of his hands.
Zach laughed and sucked several times as he took in Sky and held his arms out. “How’s it going, Sky?” They hugged.
Sky stood back. “Looking virile as ever, Zachary. The Wolf Man has nothing on you.”
“You’re not exactly wanting for healthy follicles yourself,” Grant said.
“I have to make up for being bald down there.”
“No fucking way!” Jellwagger said.
Sky put his hands on his hips and batted his eyes at Jellwagger. “I’m sorry, good lookin’, but I will do anything to please my man. And after he got a couple pubes in his mouth during a certain job, I decided to do him a favor. I do let the lawn grow a little, okay? It’s not Don Rickles or anything.”
“More like Richard Dreyfuss,” Grant said.
“Who?” Sky said.
“Oh come on,” Jellwagger said. “Jaws?”
“What about Bob?” Zach said.
“Don’t I get a hug?” Grant said.
“Not if you don’t introduce me to your barely legal friend.”
“Sky, this is Jellwagger,” Zach said.
“No it isn’t,” Sky said. He giggled so hard that his beard tails swung back and forth. “Jell Whacker?”
Jellwagger looked at Zach and Grant. “I’m too fucking tired for this shit.”
Sky stepped up to him with a smile and rubbed his arm. “Baby, I’m just playing. Don’t be that way.”
“Fuck me,” Jellwagger said and shook his head.
“Well you don’t waste a minute, do you?” Sky said.
“His name’s Michael,” Zach said. “His last name is Jellwag. And for reasons too complicated to get into, everyone calls him Jellwagger.”
“You know what, honey?” Sky said. “That means you must have a fabulous sense of humor if you can live your life with that name. And anyone with a sturdy sense of humor is okay by me.”
“So what’s tonight’s show about, Sky?” Zach.
“Computers of the beach,” Sky said, spreading his arms with flourish. His sleeves slid up a little to reveal a clinking array of metal bracelets, no two the same color.
“Oh that’s fabulous,” Grant said.
“Animals?” Zach said.
“Beach creatures,” Sky said. “I tried to think about the kinds of creatures that come out to play on the beach when no one’s around.”
“Like night creatures?”
“Or winter creatures. When the beach is empty, what’s there?”
“Gee, let’s think about that,” Jellwagger said. “Nothing, maybe?”
“Or something, my smartass jelly whacker.”
“And if these creatures were made of hard drives and memory and what have you…” Grant said.
Sky gestured to his garage with more flourish. “You would have tonight’s exhibition, Mr. Prossich, that’s correct.”
“Don’t forget about my creature,” said an Asian woman who emerged from the crowd next to Sky carrying two beers.
“What the fuck?” Jellwagger said.
If Sky was a marvel of repurposed ribbons and shiny things, this twentysomething girl rewrote the book on cluster-fucking the stereotypes for hair-dos and wardrobe. This was the first Asian Jellwagger had ever seen with cornrows, let alone blonde cornrows. And the wardrobe? From the cornrows, Jellwagger’s eyes dropped straight down to those brown cowgirl boots, complete with rusty metal spurs. The pants were of a dark blue and white camouflage that reminded Jellwagger of what those snow troopers wore in a video game he used to play all the time. The shirt was a blue sleeveless affair with the words “Save Ferris” across her perky little tits. Speaking of that, she did have a pretty hot little body. He couldn’t see her ass right now, but Jellwagger could tell it was tight enough to palm with one hand. Jellwagger couldn’t help getting the feeling, though, that with the blonde cornrows and Goodwill outfit and the three rings in her left nostril and all those little rings in her ears…
“Who’s the Greg Brady over here?” she said to Sky while keeping her eyes on Jellwagger.
…oh, and that barbell in her tongue, that she was making a concerted effort not to be appealing to anyone. But hadn’t Zach just said Jellwagger had a lot to learn? Jellwagger was already curious about this woman’s story. He looked her over again. Seriously, what was her deal?
“You’re new here,” she said with a knowing smile.
“I’m guessing where you come from, everyone looks like you,” Jellwagger said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re a fucking pincushion on legs, darling,” Jellwagger said. “I mean seriously, guys. Look at the two of you. If you fucked each other, you’d give birth to a whole fucking circus.”
“This kid’s adorable,” Sky said. “Do you all remember Grace?”
“I think I met you two,” she said.
Grant’s caged teeth parted as if he were about to speak. He hesitated, teeth suspended. “Oh wait!” he said.
“We’ve met her, right?” Zach said.
“Wait, wait, wait!” Grant jumped up and down. “I do remember you. You’re the one who got kicked out of the Saddle Ranch for breaking the mechanical bull.”
“That was the bull’s fault,” Grace said before taking a swig from one of the beers. “Cheap piece of shit.”
“Speaking of bull and shit, Grace has completed a sculpture that I’ve let her put on display here,” Sky said.
“Don’t ask me what it is,” she said. “I haven’t a fucking clue. Painting’s my thing.”
“And pottery,” Sky said. “You’ve made some wonderful vases for my foyer and bathroom.”
“But I figured fuck it,” she said. “I couldn’t live this fucked up life without trying my hand at sculpture at least once. So I closed my eyes and made whatever came to me.”
“Oh so your eyes were closed?” Sky said. “That explains it.”
“Fuck you, faggot.”
“Come on, Sky,” Zach said. “Show us your computer beach zoo.” Sky got between Zach and Grant and put his arms around them while leading them up the driveway.
Grace took a swig from the other bottle and squinted at Jellwagger.
“Do I give a shit if you trust me or like me or approve of me?” Jellwagger said. “Hell to the fuck no.”
“Wait a second, that’s my line, bitch.”
“And I already know a woman who calls me bitch. Knock it the fuck off. Call me Jellwagger or choke on that God damned barbell.”
“Damn, woman.”
“It’s Jellwagger!”
“Here! Quick!” She thrust one of the beers at him so abruptly that some of it sloshed out.
“Oh what the fuck.” He grabbed it and took a pull. “I’ve already had more tonight than I usually do in a week, but I think I’ve earned it.” He took another pull and frowned at the bottle. “Fuckin’ A, this isn’t half bad.”
“Asahi.”
“I have to admit I’ve never been a fan of the Chinese stuff, but this might just convert me.”
“It’s Japanese.”
“Your ancestral homeland?”
“That would be the Philippines.”
“Hold on a God damned second. Weren’t the Japanese, like, really mean to you people at some point? Like, say, World War II?”
“Dude, I’m from L.A. All right? I’m just a poor girl from Northridge who wants to paint for a living but probably never will which means I’m consigned to retail hell while I try to find my own time to do it.”
“Northridge, eh? I’m in Van Nuys myself.”
“And now I feel fucking sorry for you. I don’t live in the Valley anymore. I only go once in a blue moon to visit my folks. They don’t say it, but I think I freak them out.”
“Gosh, I wonder why?”
“I live in Los Feliz now.”
“Is that what makes you cool or is it the blonde corn rows?”
She leaned away from him and batted her eyelashes. “Damn, bitch. Someone’s been bitten by the ‘tude bug.”
“’The fuck’s that?”
“Come on, let me show you my piece.”
She held out her hand, which Jellwagger took only because he was too God damned tired to protest.
Just then a huge black pickup truck turned the corner a block away and roared down the street toward the house. It screeched to a stop in front of Sky’s place with three guys in the back who looked about Grant’s age. They took one look at Jellwagger and Grace and busted out laughing. The driver lowered the tinted window and stuck out his gray-bearded face. “Eat shit and die, fags!”
“You’re all a bunch of freaks!” one of the guys in the back said. “Get out of the neighborhood!”
Sky didn’t miss a beat, nor did he miss a chance to exaggerate a prance down the driveway. “This is Los Feliz, boys. We’re not the only fags in the neighborhood.”
“Hey how about we burn your fucking house down, you shit packer?”
“You’re going to have to burn a lot of houses down before you put up the gay-free sign,” Sky said. He made eyes at the driver. “Hey cowboy, speaking of packing shit, I’m feeling kind of tight. Want to loosen me up?”
“Fuck you!” the driver said. He spat on the street.
“Oh yeah,” Sky said. “Now you’re talking.”
“I will get out of this truck and beat the living shit out of you.”
“Don’t you people have anything better to do?” Grace said.
The guys in the back laughed again. “What are you, freak?”
“Does this answer your question?” She flashed them her tits.
“Mosquito bites don’t scare me, sweetheart.” He looked at Jellwagger. “Hey man, since there’s nothing to suck up there, do you make up for it down there?”
Jellwagger pulled his hand from Grace’s without thinking, which only provided these assholes with more ammo. His face flushed while Grace glared at him.
The guys in the back wanted to say something but couldn’t for their uncontrollable laughter.
“Okay, boys,” Sky said. “The show’s over. Either you can enjoy my show or stop polluting the air with your beer-scented bigotry.”
If he’d been sober, Jellwagger wouldn’t’ve dreamed of saying anything to these guys. If anything he’d’ve thought hard about how to make himself invisible. Jellwagger had no problem admitting he was non-confrontational to a fault. You might call that cowardice, but no. As we’ve seen in past episodes, dude did have a pair twixt those legs that provided courage when desperation reached an all-time high. Drunk bigots didn’t merit desperation, not unless they started threatening physical harm or something. These guys were just being assholes, and Jellwagger normally wouldn’t have the inclination to spend any energy dealing with them. But again, that was sober Jellwagger. Right now he was drunk off his ass, plus a comet of guilt was blazing a trail through his gut from pulling his hand out of Grace’s. “Hey shit stains,” he said. Between slurring and not speaking as loudly as he wanted, the bigots didn’t hear him. The driver was tossing smartass remarks back to his buddies at Sky’s expense. “Shit stains!” Jellwagger yelled. He was still slurring, but at least he got their attention. Their laughter tapered off. “You see this chick? This is one of the hottest chicks you’ll ever see and not be able to touch. Look at this.” He tried to turn her around, but Grace wouldn’t budge.
“What are you doing?” she whispered through clenched teeth.
Jellwagger used both hands to force Grace to turn her back on the guys. He took a swig of the Asahi while moaning in pleasure. “You see that ass?” he said, poking one of her cheeks. “I defy you to find another ass this hot.” He spun her back around and planted a sloppy Asahi-dripping kiss on her mouth. At first it felt like kissing a dead fish, but at the very end he could’ve sworn through his drunken haze that her mouth had responded. Jellwagger turned back to the truck and took a couple steps toward them with his free hand around Grace’s shoulder. He took another pull of Asahi. “You are looking at a man who’s scoring the hottest Filipina tail this side of Manila. What are you guys doing? You’re drinking beer. Well, that’s cool. That’s a plus. At least you guys have something going for you. You obviously like the ice-cold sudsy stuff. But your coolness is canceled out because you’re being five-alarm douche bags to people who’ve never done anything to you. What have they done, eh? And if you say that it’s simply ‘cause they exist, I’ll ram this Japanese beer bottle down your shit-eating throat.”
They just stared at him. The driver was clearly pissed off but was too thrown for a loop to know what to say.
“Now get the fuck out of here, Four Stooges,” Jellwagger said. He expected them to hop out of the truck and make him part of the sidewalk. Since the damage was done and he was doomed, why not just keep going? “And if you come back, it won’t be Sky’s house that catches fire. It’ll be your fucking loud-ass truck, that monument to guys who are insecure about their cock size.”
The three guys in the back mumbled to each other and laughed.
“What was that, Moe?” Jellwagger said. “I didn’t catch that.”
The driver took a long pull from his Pabst Blue Ribbon and then jabbed an index at Jellwagger with the beer-holding hand. “You’re dead, dude,” he said. “You see this? This is you.” He smashed the bottle on the street.
When the truck peeled off with a screech, the guys in the back dropped their jeans and mooned the crowd. “Wish you could have this?” one of them said before the truck rounded the corner and roared away.
Jellwagger stood there trying to process everything that just happened. Had he really said all those things? How was it he was still alive?
Sky, meanwhile, wasn’t fazed. As with Grant and Zach and the butter, he didn’t miss a beat in resuming his merry ways. He offered to get more drinks for people. Zach asked him if he’d seen those guys before. “I don’t know, sweetie. I tend not to remember bigots.” Someone in the crowd said they recognized the truck.
“You’ve got a pair on you, Jellwagger,” Grace said. “I’ll give you that. Let’s go.” She took his hand, apparently having forgiven him for yanking it out of hers, and led him around the crowd to the garage.
“What’s the ‘tude bug?” he asked.
“Attitude. It’s what I say whenever someone gives me shit.”
“It was the booze talking.” They walked into the garage, but Jellwagger was far too sloshed to make even a byte of sense out of all these weird-ass shapes made out of computer parts. Grace didn’t even bother showing him any of those. And besides, it wouldn’t have been possible to get a good look, not with Sky half-dancing, half-walking around the center of the garage.
Instead, Grace led him to a niche in the clutter on the side that was home to some tall skinny thing with something soft and white all over it in a chaotic pattern. “Not something,” Grace said. “Things. They’re feathers. What I did, right? I wanted to make love out of clay.”
“Huh?”
“Love. When you think of love, what do you think of?”
“Oh I see.” Jellwagger closed his eyes and smiled. If Grace hadn’t been holding his hand, he would’ve fallen over for sure.
“You see? What do you see, man? Jellwagger!” She snapped her fingers to make him open his eyes. “Okay, I’ll explain it to you. I know it’s hard to discern its shape because of all the feathers. It’s basically a phallus.”
“A palace, huh?”
“Phallus, you lush. A cock.”
“I am not a cock. I may have one, madam, but that doesn’t give you the right to call me that.”
She let go of him and patted his chest with both hands. God damn, did she look serious or what? Had Jellwagger been more coherent, he would’ve no doubt felt those eyes cut right through him like a broken beer bottle. Maybe it was because of her frown, or maybe it was the naked bulb, but Jellwagger only now just realized how cute she was. He hadn’t been joking when he showed her ass off to the bigots. Call him old fashioned, but if she just let her hair revert to its natural black and then let it grow (he was a sucker for flowing manes), she’d be downright tough to resist.
“I made a giant cock out of clay,” she said. “I didn’t want to be crude, man, but you’re not giving me much choice. And then I cut open a pillow and took out all the feathers and sprinkled them on the phallus while it was still wet. It’s a sort of glue concoction I put together. Like cement glue, but not as thick. It was pretty runny actually.”
“And that glue naturally represented lubrication.”
“Come again?”
“Ha! Nice pun, Grace. Come again. No, seriously, it’s that pre-cum that guys get when they’re all hot and bothered. Women get wet, right? Well, so do guys. It’s that clear stuff that comes out before any cum, before anything happens.”
Grace opened her mouth but stopped herself. Her eyes roamed around while she made sense of what our suddenly-articulate Jellwagger just said. He figured she’d plead with him to make sense, but instead her eyes came back to him attached to a smile. “That’s pretty good, Jellwagger. I said God damn, I hadn’t thought of that.”
“And the hood on top of your phallus here?” Jellwagger nodded at the fabric draped over the top. “That’s the pillowcase, right? You did a good job with the feathers, by the way.”
“Thanks, man. It wasn’t easy.”
“So the pillowcase. I mean yeah, ostensibly it’s a condom. But you said this is supposed to represent love.”
“It is love.”
“So that can’t be a raincoat. ‘Cause if two people loved each other… Like, if you and I loved each other—I mean really, really loved each other with fireworks in our head, the whole deal—then shit, why would I need protection? Am I right?”
She smiled with affirming eyes.
“But you know people are going to misunderstand this.”
She shrugged and maintained her smile.
“So to you, what does that pillowcase represent, young Grace?”
Before she could answer, some of the people who’d been watching Sky came over and asked Grace about her piece.
While she was going through the whole spiel again, Jellwagger headed over to Sky. He still didn’t want to deal with his metallic beasties, but he was feeling so good from engaging Grace in a dialogue, he didn’t feel like stopping now. “Hey Sky, what’s cookin’?”
An arm draped itself around Jellwagger’s shoulder and led him out of the garage and over to the narrow patch of grass between Sky’s house and the one next door. Jellwagger thought it was the bigots come to turn him into pulp, but nah, it turned out to be the one and only person in the world who was so without tact and subtlety that he’d grab Jellwagger and pull him away while our man was trying to make friends: Good ol’ Grant.
“Yeah,” Grant said with the monotone and caged teeth. “Yeah. Yeah.”
“Jesus Christ Almighty,” Jellwagger said. “How drunk are you, man?”
“Actually I’m feeling pretty good, you know? So good. Oh so good.” He made a whacky pose no doubt inspired by Sky’s performance. Then he straightened up and reverted to his deadpan look. “Seriously. I feel fucking great.”
“No shit, Shaft.”
“Listen. Um…” He crossed his arms, cleared his throat, and studied the grass. “I’ve been meaning to ask you all night. I thought about asking you in the bathroom back at the house. But you were in the shower and still in shock about your lady friend. And then I thought about asking you in the bathroom at Taix. But then I thought you might get the wrong idea, me being a gay man, and it being a bathroom. I worried about what you might think.”
“Thank Christ for that.”
“So I guess I wanted to ask you about…” He said something after that which Jellwagger didn’t understand. Jellwagger waited for more, but Grant just cleared his throat and frowned at the grass.
“Hello?”
“Yeah?” Grant didn’t look up.
“I don’t know what you’re saying.”
He cleared his throat again. “I figured this was a bad idea. We don’t have to talk about it.”
“About what?”
“That.”
“I didn’t get what you said.”
“I just wanted to ask you about…” This time he paused.
“What? Grant, come on. I’m too drunk for this.”
“What happened.” He kicked the grass. “The other night.”
Jellwagger was about to tell the goofball to be clearer when it hit him. Dude was asking him about when Jellwagger walked in on him and Stu in the throes of passion. “Oh,” was all he could think of saying. After a few interminable seconds, he said, “Okay. The other night. Yeah, I guess we can put that behind us, right?”
“Can we?”
Jellwagger sighed. “Look at me, man.”
Grant lifted his head just enough for his eyes to meet Jellwagger’s.
“Don’t sweat it. I’ve moved on, now you should do the same. I won’t tell Betsy. I won’t tell Zach. For the record, though, Grant, don’t do that shit again. Zach’s an awesome guy. He doesn’t deserve having someone cheating around on him.”
“Understood.”
“Seriously, man. If you’re going to leave him, leave him. Don’t wait for him to find out and then go through all that drama.”
Grant was looking down again. “It was a temporary lapse of judgment on my part, and it won’t happen again. You’re a human being and adult male. I’m certain you’ve had lapses of judgment from time to time.”
“Time to time? Kiddo, how about all the time? That’s kind of why you don’t have to worry about me sweating your shit. Grant, I’ve got all kinds of fucked up shit of my own going on right now. A lot of it’s a result of my being a complete fucking moron. Even if watching you and Stu fuck each other did get to me, I wouldn’t have the time to worry about it because of my own royally fucked up life.”
Grant looked up at him and crossed his arms. “I’m terribly sorry to hear that, Jellwagger. Would you like to tell me about it?”
“Hell to the no. It’s my personal shit. Let me deal with it, cool?”
Grant looked back down again and toed the grass.
“Seriously, Grant, I don’t want to bug you with it.”
He nodded. “Very good, sir. Well. I’m happy to see you and I can still work together in a professional capacity and that my lapse in judgment hasn’t cost us a relationship that I feel has been very beneficial to Powell and Powler’s marketing department.”
“Sure thing. Now seeing as how I’ve had a fucked up week and am now drunk off my ass, I should probably head home. My car’s at Zach’s place. You guys planning on calling it a night soon?”
“That’s a fine idea, sir. Let me go talk to him.”
They walked back around to the driveway. “This is an awesome fucking garage, by the way,” Grant said. He stopped and looked at the doorframe. “Don’t you think, Jellwagger?”
“Hey, there’s Zach!” Jellwagger said, pointing at him chatting with a handful of others by the flower bed. “You think you might go talk to him about going home and stuff?” He could barely finish the question before Grant spotted some folks inside the garage.
“Motherfuckers!” he said, raising his arms and swiveling his hips as he danced his way toward them. “I didn’t see you motherfuckers here earlier, did I? I did? When?”
“Enjoying yourself, Jellwagger?” Sky said as he appeared out of nowhere. He lowered his voice. It sounded deeper, much less effeminate, as he nodded at the group talking with Zach. “See that guy? Bleached blond hair? His name’s John. Longtime friend of Zach and Grant’s. Sort of a friend of mine, but I don’t see him enough to call him a true friend. Anyway, I just got finished hearing him talk about how the security guard at his job mistook him for a bum the other day. Look at him, Jellwagger. Is it any wonder why?”
Jellwagger took the blond guy in, with his army green jacket, black sweatpants, and bright green flip-flops. “I have to admit that being a monument to the Salvation Army isn’t going to win you any prizes for Best Ensemble.”
“It might actually,” Sky said. “But yes, sweetie, I know what you mean. That’s my point. I’m all for expressing yourself and dressing how you want. At least I expect and accept that people might have a hard time with what I wear. I’m not naïve. John gets paid good money as a Web developer and could afford a classier wardrobe if he wanted. Wearing Goodwill’s inventory is a very conscious decision on his part. But he can’t make that decision and then be surprised if it doesn’t go over well.” Sky sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Sometimes this whole thing exhausts me. You know?”
“No, I don’t know.”
“I put on a sculpture show a few years back. Not even a show. Very small. It was just two or three pieces and a few friends. I expected nothing. The plan was to have them make fun of my work, to not get it, have a few drinks, chat, whatever, and that would be it. But unbeknownst to me, some of them told other people, coworkers and the like, and it turns into this big to-do. I went back to do more work, made more pieces than the first time, and put on another show. Another huge success. The sucky thing about all that is it raises people’s expectations. It gets harder and harder to shoot par with the fairway getting longer and twistier, as my golf-loving grandpa used to say.”
“Fuck ‘em,” Jellwagger said. “Just don’t do it anymore. Sculpt for yourself. Or shit, can’t you sell the fucking things? Have them exhibited in a real museum? No offense to your garage, by the way.”
Sky shrugged and looked at the people perusing his works. “I need a martini so badly right now, I can fucking taste it.” He looked down at his garb and smirked. “I’m not nearly drunk enough to wear this. I’ll be back. You want a martini?”
“Asahi.”
“Coming up.”
At this point the crowd had thinned out a bit. Most of the people in ties and slacks had gone home. Those who were left were either in the garage or talking with Zach. Jellwagger ambled down the driveway to get some alone time. He hadn’t had a moment alone in hours. What the hell was he going to do about Kit? What could he do? She left her cell behind, so calling her wasn’t an option. God damn her for leading him on like that. She was the first true Bruce Willis fan he’d met since moving out here. He really thought they had something. Sure, she was hot, but Jellwagger never kidded himself about a romance. He had deluded himself, apparently, about friendship. She’d led him on, they established a great rapport, even if she did show up at his place unannounced. Now that he thought about it, her doing that should’ve been a red flag. It was a red flag, but soon enough they were kicking back with the microwave ‘corn and worshipping Bruce and, well, Jellwagger didn’t worry about it.
“What the fuck, Kit?” he whispered. “What the fuck did you do?” He sighed. “This is so fucked up. It can’t get more fucked up.”
Actually, it could. And it was about to right now.
Squealing around the corner was that same infernal black truck with the tinted windows and the three assholes in the back. It roared up to the house and screeched to a stop in front of the driveway. The three guys hopped off. The driver jumped out and slammed the door. The four fuckers marched up to Jellwagger with laughter and even more swagger.
“You have got. To be. Fucking. Kidding me.”
“’Fraid not, faggot,” one of them said before they set to Jellwagger with a lot of fists, followed by a lot of kicks once Jellwagger was sprawled on the pavement.
“What the fuck!” Jellwagger barely managed to say while the boots bashed his ribs. “Fuck me! I’m not gay, man! I’m not gay!”
Just then he heard a thud and what sounded like bits of glass raining down around him. He opened his eyes and saw that Zach had just whacked one of them over the head with an Asahi bottle that was still full. The poor bastard on the receiving end of that blow collapsed next to Jellwagger while Zach started throwing his giant Chewbacca fists into another one, turning his face into a bloody pulp before one of the other Stooges went for Zach.
God damn, look at Zach. Dude was on a rampage. Jellwagger still had two going to town on him, and apparently no one else at the art show felt up to Zach’s heroics. The last thought in Jellwagger’s mind before he blacked out was that defending himself by saying he wasn’t gay had been a petty asshole thing to do.
When he woke up, however many eons later it was, that thought was still burning up his brain, and it only exacerbated the pounding in his head and the nausea in his gut. Before he opened his eyes, he could tell he was in a car. But it wasn’t moving. Outside the window he could hear other idling engines. He opened his eyes only to stab his headache all the more with the sea of red taillights stretching ahead into infinity.
“Rise and shine, dude,” said the vaguely familiar voice from the driver’s seat.
Jellwagger’s head felt like a cinderblock as he turned to see Grace sitting there, tapping her foot as if in time to a song. That’s when Jellwagger heard the sound of rock music just below the sounds of the cars outside Grace’s open window. She smiled at him and rubbed his arm.
“You okay? You alive?”
Jellwagger tried to speak but could only rasp. Jesus, was his throat dry or what? What’s more, his mouth had that horrible aftertaste you get if you drink too much and conk out before brushing your teeth. Grace took the unopened bottle of water that had been in his beverage holder and gave it to him. Jellwagger downed the whole thing in a single pull. “That was awesome, thanks.” And he meant it. His nausea was already ebbing a bit, although the splitting headache wasn’t about to die that easily.
Grace could only lift her foot off the brake a few seconds at a time before traffic stopped again. Jellwagger wiped his eyes with his knuckles, adjusted his glasses, and looked around. They were on the northbound 405, coming up to the Getty Center exit. While this side choked on gridlock, the southbound side was the exact opposite. Cars were zooming out of the Valley and over the Hill. “What’s the deal?” he asked.
“No fucking clue,” Grace said. “The traffic report didn’t mention anything of course. They’re great at covering the O.C., though.”
“Shit!” He felt his pockets. Wallet? Check. “Fuck!” The small movement he made to check his pockets inflamed his mid section.
“Try not to make any sudden movements, dude. Those guys, like, kicked the shit out of you before Zach and Grant took care of them.”
“Grant too? Is he okay?”
“Dude, it’s those rednecks who got messed up. One of them was bleeding from the head, the one Zach got with the beer.” She laughed and slapped the steering wheel. “That was so awesome.”
“Not if he died, it wasn’t.”
“What about you, bitch? Your memory must’ve suffered damage. They. Would’ve. Killed you if Zach and Grant hadn’t stepped in. Jellwagger, I’m serious. You’re lucky all you have are some bruised ribs and a bumped head. Whatever. The four dicks drove off, and we went back to Zach’s place. I volunteered to take you home.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“And for having to drive Shitty Shitty Bang Bang.”
“You name your car?”
“Only ‘cause it’s a piece of shit.”
“So get a new one.”
“Oh, I dunno. There is this thing called money that gets in the way. Not sure if you’re aware, but law firm data entry clerks don’t exactly pull it in.”
“You’re preaching to the choir.”
“Where do you work?”
“Amoeba. It’s one of the few places where my so-called skill set overlaps with my fashion sense. They don’t give a shit how you look. I used to work at Restoration Hardware on the Promenade.”
Jellwagger laughed his ass off, which only killed his side.
“Fuck you, dude.” But she laughed too.
They didn’t say much after that. The culprit for the gridlock turned out to be a beat-up little car very similar to Shitty Shitty Bang Bang that had stalled in one of the middle lanes on the other side of the Hill. At least this gave Jellwagger time to take in the nighttime view of the Valley. He was reminded of when Grant told him about a friend of his who made experimental films. One of them took place on a spaceship. Since the guy didn’t have any money, the question was how to do the establishing shot of the ship in space. Solution? Find someplace high up overlooking the Valley and turn the camera upside down. At night that blanket of amber lights would then be on the top of the screen and, with the right kind of rumbling sound effects, you might think it was the underbelly of a massive ship.
Thinking about Grant led Jellwagger to what he’d said to the bigots as they were beating the shit out of him. Had anyone heard him? Jellwagger was sure he’d yelled it. Of course, he could just ask Grace right now.
After they finally got past the stalled car and started zooming down the Hill, Jellwagger promised himself he’d ask once they got off the freeway. He told Grace to take the Sherman Way East exit. But when they were on Sherman Way, Jellwagger still couldn’t bring himself to do it. Wouldn’t Grace have brought it up if she had heard him?
Jellwagger navigated her back to his dingbat and swore to himself that he wouldn’t let her out of the car until he cleared it up. But again, no dice. They went into his apartment, Grace got on her knees and played with Chump E. Chips, and Jellwagger stood there like an idiot.
“Got anything fruity?” she asked while rubbing a very grateful Chump’s head.
“Just beer.”
“You should take a shower. I’ll stay out here with your adorable little poochie.”
He fetched her a Spaten before disappearing into his bedroom with a tall cup of water, which he used to down three aspirin. Jellwagger polished off the cup in a single gulp. God damn, the cold water felt so pure and cleansing on his tongue.
The alarm clock next to his bed said it was one o’clock in the morning. This would be his second shower in the past six hours or so, yet the instant he stepped under the scalding hot water, he knew Grace’s suggestion was right on. For five minutes our man just stood there basking in the soul-cleansing spray.
He was reaching for the washcloth when Grace, carrying her half-drunk Spaten and wearing her birthday suit and a smug smile, slid open the stall door and got in.
“Oh my God, I’m sorry,” was all Jellwagger could think of saying while Junior stirred awake and pointed his German helmet at Grace’s barbell navel ring.
Grace put the Spaten next to the shampoo and wrapped her arms around him.
He jerked with a start at her cold hands. “I said I’m sorry.”
“What are you saying, dude?”
“I didn’t mean to say it. I…” Christ, this wasn’t happening at all the way he had visualized it. He opened his mouth to give it another go, but Grace used that as an opportunity to kiss him. Damn, could that Filipina kiss. It was slow and wet, and the way she parted lips at the end ignited an agony in his chest. “I said I wasn’t gay,” he said with trembling breath.
“I know you’re not gay.” She giggled. “I wouldn’t be here right now if you were.”
“When they came back, I said I wasn’t gay so they wouldn’t beat the fuck out of me. It was not my finest hour, Grace, okay? Fuck, now I have to see Grant on Monday and try to explain it.”
“Explain? Dude, the way you defended me was adorable. You just came up to me and took control of the situation. Your balls are bigger than you give yourself credit for, Jellwagger. That took balls, what you did. It required a healthy pair. I was like, ‘I’m going to get him. Those balls will be mine before the night’s over.’ And here we are!” She moved her arms up around his neck and planted her mouth on his with another slow, wet one.
Jellwagger took a swig of the Spaten and passed it to her. Grace followed suit before putting it back on the shelf. “Damn, dude, that’s some good shit.”
“Besides being one of the greatest beers of all time, Spaten isn’t much.”
“By the way, I hope you weren’t just fucking around when you said all that stuff about my ass. Because I’m offering it to you for the night. And I don’t just offer it to anyone. I do shitloads of yoga to maintain what you see back there.”
Before Jellwagger could answer, Grace kissed him again and this time sustained it much longer while sliding one of her hands to the back of his head and pressing his face into hers.
Grace was true to her word. She let Jellwagger have her ass and just about every other inch of her. By three in the morning they were lying in bed with Jellwagger on his back and Grace resting her cute little blonde cornrows on his chest. He massaged his fingertips along the cornrows and couldn’t help laughing at their fuzzy feel. Grace moaned. “I’ll stop,” he said.
“Dude.” She slapped his arm. “That feels good.”
Jellwagger had just resumed the cornrow rubbing when he heard the unmistakable sound of someone knocking on his sliding glass door out by the kitchen. Grace lifted her head, her eyes wide open. The knocking came again.
“Dude?” she said.
Jellwagger sighed and scooted out of bed. “I’ll be right back.”
“What the fuck?”
He pulled on his boxer briefs. “Don’t go anywhere.”
As he approached the sliding door, he could see the slim and high-heeled silhouette of Stefania. She’d given up on the knocking and was doing something with her hands. He could hear a light tapping noise. Jellwagger tip-toed the last few feet, paused, and swung the curtain aside. Stefania jumped with a start and held a hand to her heart. She then used that same hand to slap the glass. “You bastard! Open up!”
Jellwagger couldn’t help laughing as he undid the latch and slid the door open.
Instead of the bikini she wore when she barged in on him and Kit, Stefania had on the most normal garb he’d seen her wear yet: Just a simple cream blouse and jeans. And spiky heels, of course. “I was going to text you,” she said.
“Who knows when I would’ve gotten that? I’m not even sure where my cell is.”
“All I want is a place to sleep.”
“’The fuck for? Your mansion being renovated?”
“I had a falling out with Carla. I’m not sure I’m ever going back. And since I was living on Just Because’s payroll…”
“You’re not going back to the nunnery, are you?”
“Hell no.”
“Thank God.”
“But I still need a place to stay.”
“What about Neckman? I thought you and he sort of had something.”
“Please. Neckman’s like a dog with Carla. Loyal to a fault. He won’t risk that. Come on, Jellwagger. Just one night.”
“Say yes,” Grace said as she walked up and stood beside Jellwagger. The nut hadn’t even bothered to put on panties.
Stefania crossed her arms. “I say, Jellwagger. Did Azure pay off or what? We’ve unleashed a monster.”
“Dude.” Grace slapped his arm. “Introduce us.”
“Grace, I’d like you to meet Stefania. She’s a…person. That I know. And Stefania?”
“I’m Grace.” She stepped forward to shake hands.
“Fantastic cornrows,” Stefania said as she lightly pressed them with her palms.
“Thanks!”
“I don’t even want to know how long these took to make.”
“Which is why I’m not getting rid of them anytime soon no matter what people say.”
“Well look.” Stefania crossed her arms again. “I’m very sorry about this.”
“No need to explain, dude,” Grace said. “By the way, that is a hot watch!” She took Stefania’s wrist and lifted it closer to her face to get a good look at the spaghetti-thin gold watch. She held it there a good while. “So hot.” She let it go and smiled at Stefania. “Seriously, dude, I heard everything. Jellwagger, tell the woman she can stay. And she can sleep in your bed.”
“Golly shucks, Grace, and where will we sleep?”
“Your bed.”
“Come again?” he said.
Grace turned to him with that same smile she’d been wearing when she stepped into the shower. “Exactly.” She turned back to Stefania and took the same wrist. “Follow me, my dear.” She led her back to the bedroom.
Jellwagger stayed out by the sliding door for a minute or so.
“Oh Jellwagger,” Grace called. “It doesn’t seem like you’re coming.”
“In either sense of the word,” Stefania added.
Jellwagger looked at Chump E. Chips in the recliner. The Snoopy wannabe was out for the count on his back with the occasional paw twitch. “You know, Chump? There was a time when I was convinced situations like this could only happen in cheap porn with terrible audio.” Our man, perhaps the luckiest man in the world right now, hurried back to his bedroom and the two hot women already making out between the sheets.
To be continued...
