Next to Nothing Clark Handlebar Chapter 2 After the fight, Roy, Jeff and I headed off to TGIFridays to drink overpriced drinks and pick up on girls that we may or may not have gone to high school with.  I don't know what happened to Bobby.  I didn't really care. I didn't even know the guy and now I was kicked out of my favorite watering hole,  I had a black eye, bruises and cuts on my face, and my left ear would be ringing for days. After Friday’s I didn’t want to drive home and wake up Dan’s mom and sisters so I spent the night in the dodge. Every time I would come home, the three dogs would go ape shit and wake up everyone in the house. So not only was I the dirty drunken Puerto Rican sleeping on the floor and not paying any rent. I was also the dirty drunken Puerto Rican who woke everybody up in the middle of the god damned night. The next time I was in Biddings I was surprised to hear that one of the employees there, a cute little wigger girl named Lori, had tried to intervene and was almost fired for it.  She was only 17 and had some sort of a crush on me.  She'd never say so much as "hello" to me, but she would refer to me as her husband to her co-workers. She was cute despite her best attempts to look tough. She was probably 5’4 or so. She had brown hair that she occasionally wore in tight braids. Sleepy brown eyes and pale skin.  Her cuteness was accented by a little chip in her front tooth that she probably got in a street brawl or from falling down while ice skating when she was ten. One bartender in particular named Jess would tell me about Lori every time I came in.  Jess was cool.  She was white, probably 5'6” or so with long curly hair.  She wasn't conventionally attractive, but she grew on you after a while and her body was nice.  Sleeping with her wouldn't have taken much deliberation.  Another thing about her is that she had a taste for the dark meat just like Lori. I can always sense when a girl does.  I’ve often heard gay people talk about "gaydar.”  Some built in sixth sense that helps them pick out other gay people that aren't obviously gay.  I can always feel out the white girls that prefer dark skinned men. Being fairly dark skinned myself, this skill has severed me well. I wasn’t surprised when I met Jess’ boyfriend and he was black. He probably still is. Jess, as far as bartenders went was tops. She would give Roy and me free drinks when we were broke.  When we weren't broke we would leave large tips.  Such was the nature of our relationship.   While we were drinking we would catch glimpses of Lori as she ran food from the kitchen, past the bar and into the dining room.  Even though there were usually two other food runners on shift, whenever I ordered food, she would always deliver it without fail. Jess would make some comment about Lori and laugh. She would try her best to embarrass her and would get a great kick out of doing so.  I would pretend to be unaffected and dismiss her comments.  Ah but, Roy knew what was going through my head. He knew I would hump her if I could get away with it. He knew me well enough to know I was probably already devising a plan.   We used to joke about Lori ourselves, but in an entirely different way.  We used to call her "barbie mound" because we'd say she didn't even have a pussy.  Just a mound like a barbie doll with a slit the size of the thin side of a quarter. We'd make comments about her ass and how her pants were always so tight that there was always more than a slight camel toe effect.  After a while the management made her wear an apron because of it.  Damn!  Spoil all our fun why don't you.  Bastards. One Thursday afternoon, a week after the fight, I was outside of J.J.'s on my cell phone talking to a girl that I had met at a bar a few nights earlier.  There's a ramp out there that leads to the side door of the bar. It’s the same place where Roy and Jeff where while I was getting my head kicked in back in Chapter One.   Across from the building is a high concrete wall that the train tracks are on.  About a hundred yards away up a flight of stairs is the Woodbridge train station.  Roy always said that last thing he was going to hear before he died was "MEEERE!!!!" as the train derailed and crashed into J.J. Biddings. I was particularly drunk when Lori came out to smoke a cigarette. I said goodbye to the girl on the phone, being sure to call her “man” loud enough for Lori to hear me. She had her apron on over khaki pants and her green J.J. Biddings Polo shirt. Her hair was back in a pony tail. I was glad to see that she had taken the braids out. "How’s it going?" I asked her. "Not bad,” she said.  "You?" "Not bad." She was surprisingly cool and calm.  From the way she acted inside, I expected her to be all nervous and odd, but she wasn't.  Good. "You know people are saying a lot of things in there," I said, trying my best not to slur. "Yeah. I know.  They're just messing around," she said. "Yeah, I figured.  I just don't think things should be awkward between us.  You know?  I mean we've never even been introduced or anything." "I’m Lori." she said as she stuck out her hand. I stepped closer. "I’m Jay." We shook hands. "Do you want a drag?" she asked. "Sure.  Why not,” I answered. I had quit smoking seven years earlier or so. I took her cigarette.  She hopped up on the railing.  I took a drag, exhaled a cloud of smoke and stepped close to give it back to her.  She took the cigarette with her right hand and put her left one on my hip. "Jesus!  What is this girl doing?" I wondered. I looked around nervously.  She threw the cigarette on the ground and put her other hand on my hip.  It was enough to almost sober me up. "If anyone comes out here I’m dead.  They'll castrate me.  You're white and only 17," I said. "Actually, I’ll be 17 tomorrow," she said, smiling. "Fuck!" I said.  And then we were kissing.  I was too damn nervous to enjoy it, but looking back I’d say it was a good kiss.  You kiss better when you're young.  It isn't hurried.  I guess it’s because when you’re young, kissing is the main event most of the time.  Nowadays it's just a formality.  A bit of foreplay before the actual foreplay.  A gateway to the eventual inevitable. After a few seconds I stepped back quickly.  She was smiling as she hoped off the railing. "Give me your phone" she said. "OK."  I handed it to her almost in a daze. She plugged in her number and told me to save it and call her later.  She gave me a quick pat on the ass and then she was gone. I stood there for a long moment thinking about what had just happened. I figured there was a 90% chance she was going to tell somebody.  If she did I would never be able to come back here. 16 year olds don’t keep secrets all that well so I was sure I was doomed, but I thought “Fuck it.   Why worry?” Ah, hell. I needed to get back inside and get the buzz going again. I sat down next to Roy. "Hey." I said. "Hey." "Want to do some shots?" I asked. "Sure" he said. I order two Jagers. "Better later days" I said. "Yep" We clinked glasses and as Roy put his to his lips and I whispered to him. "I just sucked face with barbie mound outside." Half the shot was in Roy’s mouth and partially down his throat when I said this. His eyes bulged and he made a noise that sounded like a muffled sneeze. I saw a bit of Jager come out of his nose as he jumped off his chair and ran into the bathroom. Jess looked up from pouring a pint and gave me an inquisitive look. "Fucking light weight." I said. She shook her head and finished pouring the beer. When Roy and I were kids we were eating lunch one day and he made me laugh while I was drinking some milk. It shot out of my nose and I nearly fell out of my god damned chair. For weeks after that Roy would take a glass of milk and say "make me laugh, ok?" and then fill his mouth with it. It never worked. Well. They say be careful what you wish for. Only this wasn't milk. It was Jager and we weren't 10 years old in Roy’s kitchen. We were in our late 20's in a crowded new jersey bar. I started on my beer and caught a glimpse of Lori as she passed into the dining area carrying a tray of food. I couldn’t help thinking of how great it would be to fuck her. I couldn’t help thinking of how great it would be to fuck anyone. My life was such shit that it didn’t really matter to me if I got caught. Besides, I was planning on getting caught. I’ve gotten away with a lot in my time. My whole life was practically a long series of lies. What was one more? I kept reassuring myself as I drank. “You can do it. No one will ever find out… No one will ever find out…” ad nauseum. I felt a punch in the arm. It was Roy. He sat down and called me a rotten bastard. "You almost fucking killed me! Jesus fuck!" he said. "How's your nose, fuck face?" "Yeah. Fuck you. So how the hell did you do that without anybody seeing you?" "Luck,” I told him. “It’s the guardian angel of idiots. She gave me her number. She wants to hang out tonight. You got paid today right?" "Yeah." "We’ll get a hotel room with a Jacuzzi. I’ll pay you back in a couple of days. Should only be like $80 or something." "Jeff’s gonna be here soon," he said. "So he can come. He probably has weed. Blow too. We’ll get some beer. It’s got to be done." "What the hell are me and Jeff supposed to do while you're fucking that little bitch?" he asked. "Drink. Get high. I don't know. Take one for the god damned team dammit. Remember when you had those two broads up in the loft bed in the studio in San Fran?" "Yeah." "Well. I let you do your thing. I didn't even try to get in on that shit. I probably should have seeing how there were two of them, but I didn't." I was going to wear him down. By God I was going to wear him down. "...and remember when I let Theresa give you a blow job in that kid’s apartment in Edison? That shit was cool wasn't it? See the kind of friend I am? And all I need you to do is..." "Alright! Alright! We’ll go to the damned Post Inn," he said. Finally giving into my nagging. "You know you're going straight to hell for this," he said. "Humping little 17 year olds in hotel rooms." "She’s only 16,” I replied. "Oh Christ!" he said. I laughed maniacally. I was evil and I knew it and I didn't care. Besides, I don't believe in hell. Hell is what you make it. As far as I was concerned, moving back to New Jersey after spending five years in San Francisco was hell. Sleeping next to Dan on the floor of his mother’s laundry room was hell. Having no heat and having to sleep on that floor with a coat and skull cap on was hell. Living in my ‘89 dodge spirit was hell. What ever happens to me after I die can't be a whole hell of a lot worse than what I’ve been doing up until now. This may very well be hell, but at least there was pussy here. Jeff showed up and we went on drinking. After a while they went out to smoke cigarettes. I followed and advised him of our plan. Jeff took a pull off his cigarette and with out exhaling said, "Ok. But what the hell are me and roy supposed to do while you're fucking that little bitch?" "Drink. Smoke. I don't know. Take one for the god damned team, you bastard," I answered. "Well. I’ve got plenty of bud. A little bit of the coke too. Shit. Let’s do it," he replied. The wheels were in motion. I was all set to commit statutory rape. "Good god," I thought. This is it. The beginning of the end. I could see the prison cafeteria conversation now, "What are you in for?" "Grand theft auto. You?" "I turned a 16 year old girl into a hand puppet in a sleazy hourly hotel room with two of my closest friends." Fuck it! Who cares? The only way I’d go down for this is if her parents found out and filed a complaint. And if that happened, I’d just have to blow up their house while they were asleep. Problem solved. Roy, Jeff and I decided to head over to Rockefellers on route 35. We figured we'd have a few drinks there and then head over to pick up Lori when she got off of work. I some how thought leaving there would make me look less guilty. It was about 830 when we walked in the door. The place was fairly crowded. It was a sports bar with large TV’s and a long one sided bar that stretched out to where the dining room started. The food there was ok and cheaper than biddings. We found a small table in the bar, ordered a pitcher of beer and a pizza. I called Lori and left her a message instructing her to call me when she got off.  Her out going message was quite typical of a teenage girl which brought home some of the awfulness of what I was planning to do. It was some shitty R&B song that went on for too long and then a beep. Back at Rockerfellas, we ate pizza and bullshitted about things. We talked about music and women. About my new shitty job waiting tables at Jose Tejas. Roy was doing some construction gig. He was talking about getting his GED and joining the coast guard. Jeff was in school for computers or some such thing and wasn't really working at the moment. Money was tight, but at the moment none of us were paying rent so any money we had we blew on beer and substances. Roy and Jeff were the kind of guys you could sit and drunk and shoot the shit with and never get bored.  There was always some stupid story to tell. Always some crazy new scheme one of us had dreamed up that would make us piles of money and get us the fuck out of New Jersey. It was nearly 10 when my phone started to vibrate in my pocket. I quickly pulled it out. "It’s Barbie mound," I said. I plugged my left ear with my finger and answered. "I’m off work," she said. "Ok. I’m at Rockefellers. Meet me in the parking lot. I drive a blue dodge. Do you know the one?" I asked. "Yeah. It’s got a license plate that says “ELVIS”  in the back window," she replied. "That’s the one," I answered. "We’ll probably take Roy’s car, but right now we've got mine." "Ok," she replied. "See you soon," I said. "Ok." "Bye" "Bye" "Alright, fuck-o's. We’ve got to go," I said. Jeff finished the rest of his beer. I left mine. Roy grabbed it, finished it and then took down his. We headed out to the dodge. I stopped to inspect the missing hub cap that had popped off a few days ago when I was drunk and trying to dodge a cop that I was sure was going to turn his car around and pull me over. As he drove passed me he slowed down and then sped up. I made a quick right off the main drag and then two lefts. My plan was to get back on the main road and gun it while the cop was circling the back road looking for me. But as I tried to hit the road, I hit the sidewalk and my tire exploded sending my hubcap flying onto someone's lawn. I threw my seat back to lay low. After a few minutes I fell asleep. Oddly I remember the dream that I had.   I dreamed I was in a world where pussy and ice cream where stretched out as far as the eye could see. Scantily clad women were everywhere. Ice cream truck jingles where playing while I indulged in several hours of the most obscene of activities. The kind of activities that could make a donkey blush. At one point a nude petite brunette with pouty lips and slender hips offered herself up to me and I said, "No! First another scoop of French Vanilla with rainbow sprinkles! This time hold the cone. I'll just eat it out from between your legs!" It was at this time that I realized I had no Lactaid, but I didn't need it. Because in this world I could have all the pussy and ice cream that I wanted without the disastrous results that both are known to cause me. I could have it all with out having to pay in one way or another. And so we danced and humped and sang and ate ice cream until the sad, inevitable moment came where I knew it was time to wake up. "Toodle-loo!" waved a tall red head with mint chocolate chip on a sugar cone resting between her 36 double D's. "Same to you" i replied. "I'll miss you J.R.!", someone called out from the sea of P. "I’ll miss you too!" I screamed. "I’ll miss all of you and all of this wonderful pussy and all of this delicious ice cream!" And as I went for one last lick, a large trunk rolled past and it was back to reality. A reality where ice cream, much like most of the women I've met in my life, gives me gas and causes nausea and discomfort (among other things). A reality where after letting them in, neither one sticks around for too long. After getting my head together, I changed the tire and drove home. It was as if life was like some long drawn out game of Russian roulette back then. You took stupid chances because you didn’t think you cared about the out come. When you’re first starting out, you’re scared, cautious. You expect to hear the bang, but all you hear is the click. Click after click after click and you start to believe you’re invincible. I had tempted the fates so many times I figured “Hey. What’s one more pull of the trigger?” Famous last words for some, I suppose.  Who knows? Maybe someday they’ll be mine.