3/29/21

Inner Landscapes of Suburban Life.

 






It's a Wednesday night in Key West. Henry and his Cuban wife, Lucia, are in bed. She says to him,  

darling, I miss Summer Wynd, 

Summer Wynd, their lover, is in Maine living with family and teaching ballet. Lucia continues, 


Henry, are you going to kiss me goodnight? 


He sighs and turns to her, giving her a light kiss, she snaps back, 


you call that a kiss? 


What kinda kiss did you expect? 


I don’t know, do it again and I’ll let you know.


Should I kiss you like we’re making love? 


Kiss me like you kissed Amy, your Jamican friend when you fucked her in the hot tub.


How was that? 


You know, heavy, lip-locked, deep kissing with lotza tongue.


It was different kissing Amy, I got excited because it was the first time. 


Lucia sits up in bed, vexed she says,


so when you kiss me it's not exciting because we’re used to each other, is that it? 


Darling, a relationship is like a job, stuff happens, and you settle into it.


You mean fucking me is like punching a time clock?


Lucia, you got a bug up your prat or what? 


Your the bug Henry, I’m going to Dog Beach with the Chihuahuas. I’m appreciated there, men can’t keep their eyes off me.


Do you need that, the male adoration? 


Yes,  


well, beautiful women are a curiosity. Anyway— my love for you is bigger than the Milky Way, you're my soul mate.


Sí, mi amor, let's go to The Little Pearl and spend a heap on a French meal— Coq au vin, Garbur, Bouillabaisse, and a bottle of  Beaujolais.


I'll make a reservation at eight. 


Henry and Lucia’s bandying was a wake-up call for love asleep, adrift in the vanilla soup of everyday life. 


By midnight their home in bed relaxing, having eaten at The Little Pearl earlier. 


Henry’s reading a review of Truman Capote’s latest book, Answered Prayers in The New York Times. Lucia’s sitting up with her back against the headboard. She turns towards Henry and vomits into the newspaper he’s reading. 


He laughs out loud and says, 


You’ve mirrored my thoughts on Capote’s new book.  


As Lucia runs to the bathroom, Henry unsuccessfully attempts to fold the newspaper so the vomit won’t leak through the pages, walking to the kitchen, and throwing the mess into the trash. 


Back in the bedroom, he strips the bed, spraying the mattress with Lysol, and remakes the bed with fresh cotton linen. 


Lucia walks out of the bathroom in her silk Japanese robe, she’s pale, and mascara's running over her cheeks. Irrationally saying,  


I’m dying, get me to the hospital. 


Yeah, we're all dying, OK, let's go.


To expedite the trip, they take the Vespa instead of Henry’s Chevy wagon. 

A half-hour later Lucia’s laying on her back in a draped-off area on a hospital cot watching the bubbling, drip, drip, drip of her IV bag that’s chock full of electrolytes and antibiotics. 


She had food poisoning, something to do with the food at The Little Pearl. 


At 3 PM Lucia's still on her back, better, and ready to be discharged. 


Henry’s slouched in a hard plastic chair in the waiting room. The cashier calls him to her desk and stares at him through a thick glass partition, he says, 


so? She answers, 


so how are you going to pay Mr. Lucowski? 


Does the clinic have an installment plan? 


She grins, a wide, toothy, alligator grin, and says, 


you’re funny.


He hands her his Blue Cross Blue Shield card, a piece of thin rectangular plastic with a large blue cross on it, the insurance companies' swastika.  


The cashier, a Miss Mulberry, runs the card through a little black box connected to the phone line, after a few minutes telling Henry, 


Mr. Lucowski, your family policy has been canceled. 


There’s a tense feeling in the air— the scene amps. A bald security guard is standing near Henry, tapping his foot with his arms crossed on his chest, prepared to attack if needed.


How about VISA Miss Mulberry? Are you by chance a member of the Mulberry tree family? 


Funny, Mr. Lucowski, yes we accept VISA 


She hands him the bill, It’s 2453 dollars. He considers making a run for it but doesn’t want to leave Lucia holding the bag, so he hands over his credit card. 


Miss Mulberry runs his card and hands it back with the receipt that he signs. Then, walking back to the waiting area where he sits in the same hard plastic chair, feeling pillaged by the hospital, insurance, and Parma industries. 


Lucia sashays out to the waiting area, looking sexy but drawn in her silk bathrobe. She sits next to Henry and he says,


If you add the clinic and restaurant bills together, we spent 2600 dollars for diner. Fuck The Little Pearl.


Shut up Henry, take me home, I'm tired.


The following day, Henry wakes at noon, showers, ties back his waist-length hair, dresses, and walks to the kitchen where he brews coffee and orders a dozen bagels and a quart of chopped chicken livers from Goldman’s Deli.


Sitting at the kitchen table noshing he hears the doorbell ring and yells, 


nobody’s home.


The doorbell rings again, exasperated and feeling half asleep, having spent all night at the local clinic with Lucia, he stands and goes to answer the door, it’s the Stones.


The couple lives next door to Henry and Lucia in a brightly painted bungalow with an immaculately manicured lawn that's Don Stone's pride and joy. 


Henry reluctantly opens the door and is blinded by a pair of tooth-filled Crocodylus smiles, causing him to step back, Don says, 


Did we wake you Henry, have you met my wife Jane? Me Tarzan, she Jane.


Funnyman, how bout some coffee? 


They walk into the kitchen and sit down at the table. Henry pours them coffee, sets plates, and brings a tray of bagels, Don says, 


where’s your better half? 


Oh, Lucia, she’s in the bedroom, recovering from food poisoning.


What was it, oysters in October? 


Yeah, something like that.


I hope she's OK, anyway, Jane and I are going to Palm Beach to celebrate our three year anniversary for ten days and—  Henry interrupts saying, 


three years of marriage, leather anniversary, you got something kinky planned?  


Lucia walks into the kitchen in her bra and panties, sitting down at the table and pouring herself a cup of coffee. Don's eyeballs her and Jane elbows him saying, 


behave Don,


Lucia asks Henry in Spanish 


Quienes son ellas?

Tarzan and Jane our neighbors, 


OK. 


Don goes on, 


Anyway, can you watch our house while we're away? Lucia answers, 


sure, Tarzan. 


Fabulous, there's not much to do, just the basics— water the lawn, the house plants, and feed our kitty, Snowball. She eats dry food, there’s a big-size bag of Purina Chow in the broom closet. Oh, and don’t forget to give her water. Lucia says, 


Si Tarzán, maybe kitty would like to play with our Chihuahuas in the backyard? 


oh no, Snowball doesn’t like dogs.

Tarzan and Jane get up from the kitchen table. He places a couple of keys on the table saying, 


we can’t thank you enough, off to Palm Beach.


Don And Jane Stone are unexceptional but happy. Empty-headedness is a blessing for some.

That evening, Henry walks next door to the Stones bungalow, unlocking the front door, going inside, and turning on the lights. The air's stuffy so he opens the living room windows. 


There’s a cluster of framed Stone family photos hung unevenly behind the TV. 


Snowball, a white Persian with a sunken face walks up to him, rubbing her face on his bare feet and then turning on her back. She jumps up when Henry walks to the kitchen to fill the kitty's empty bowls with water and dry food. She picks at the food. 


He walks to the bathroom, looks at himself in the mirror, brushing the loose strands of long hair back and thinking, 


I’m getting old, maybe an occasional facial would help— Lucia will know what to do, she’s a woman.


Then, he opens the medicine chest where he rummages through the bottles of pills, finding Xanax and slipping it in his pocket.


Back in the kitchen, he draws a bowl of water, cupping the liquid with one hand and sprinkling it on the house plants as though he’s baptizing them saying,  


in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.


As Snowball sleeps on the sofa, Henry opens the liquor cabinet, reaching into it and taking out a bottle of Remy Martin. He takes two drinks from the bottle and puts it back.


He locks the house and walks home, forgetting to water the lawn. Lucia's laying on the living room sofa half asleep. She asks, 


what took so long? 


Nothing, I was playing with Snowball.


She orders Chinese food from Fu King Chinese. They eat in front of the TV, watching the film Five Easy Pieces. Enjoying the hold the chicken scene, where— 


Bobby, played by Jack Nicholson is with some traveling companions and wants to order a meal at a diner. He knows exactly what he wants as he orders off the menu.


Bobby— I’ll have an omelet, no potatoes. Give me tomatoes instead, and wheat toast instead of rolls. 


Waitress— No substitutions. 


Bobby— What does that mean? You don’t have tomatoes? 


Waitress, who’s getting annoyed— No we have tomatoes.


Bobby— But I can’t have any, is that what you mean? 


Waitress— Only what’s on the menu, a number two, plain omelet. It comes with cottage fries and rolls.


Bobby— I know what it comes with, but that’s not what I want.


Waitress— I’ll come back when you’ve made up your mind.


She moves away but Bobby detains her.


Bobby— Wait, I’ve made up my mind. I want a plain omelet, forget the tomatoes, don’t put potatoes on the plate, and give me a side of wheat toast and a cup of coffee.


Waitress— I’m sorry we don’t have side orders of toast. I can give you an English muffin or a coffee roll.


Bobby— What do you mean, you don’t have side orders of toast? You make sandwiches, don’t you? 


Waitress— Would you like to talk to the manager?


Bobby— You have bread don’t you, and you have a toaster of some kind? 


She begins writing down his order and repeating it sarcastically.


Waitress— One Number Two, and a chicken sal san, hold the mayo, the lettuce. And, a cup of coffee, anything else?


Bobby— Now all you have to do is hold the chicken, bring me the toast, charge me for the sandwich, and you haven’t broken any rules. 


Waitress— You want me to hold the chicken? 


Bobby— Yeah I want you to hold it between your knees. 


The others at the table laugh and the waitress points to the Right to Refuse Service sign.


Waitress— You see that sign sir? 


Bobby glances over at it and back to her. 


Waitress— You’ll all have to leave, I’m not taking any more of your smartness and sarcasm.


Bobby smiles politely at the waitress.


Bobby—You see this sign? 


With one swipe of his arm, he forcefully pushes the glasses of water and condiments off the table onto the diner floor. Glass breaks, and liquids splash.


Bobby and his friends hustle out to their car and speed away before the cops can come.


Henry and Lucia laugh raucously watching the famous hold the chicken scene from Five Easy Pieces. The scene is transgressive screenwriting at its best.


The following morning at 11, the couple is finishing a breakfast of Mexican coffee and mango crepes. She says to him,


darling, don’t forget to feed Snowball.


I was just thinking about that, I’ll go right over. 


In the kitchen of the Stone’s bungalow, he fills the kitty’s bowls with food and water. Then, he notices she is in her litter box scratching— the kitty looks at him steadily before turning back to the litter. 


Feeling impish, he opens all the cupboards, examining the can goods, cereals, packaged foods, the cocktail and wine glasses, the china, and the pots and pans. 


Turning and opening the refrigerator— he sniffs a stalk of celery, takes two bites out of an apple, and chews on it as he walks into the bedroom. 


The bed seems enormous, with a thick Hudson Bay blanket covering it. He wonders why they need a blanket like that in South Florida? Then, he opens the nightstand drawer, finding a half-empty package of cigarettes in it and stuffing them into his pocket. This, inane because he doesn't smoke.


As he steps into the walk-in closet there’s a knock at the front door. He walks to the living room and opens the door, It’s Lucia who asks, 


what’s been keeping you? You’ve been here more than an hour pendejo!


Have I really? 


Yes, 


Oh, I had to go to the toilet.


You have your own toilet at home.


I couldn’t wait. 


Nine days later, the Stones are due home. Henry completes his chores early, feeding Snowball and the rest.  

 

That afternoon Baxter Whitman, who lives next door to the Stones— three houses away from Henry and Lucia, is preparing to spray paint the outside of their house, salmon-pink. 


Lucia’s at Dog Beach with the Chis, Che y Mia, drinking Rum Cocos, and Henry’s taking a nap.


It’s Baxters' first try at air paint spraying. He jumps right into it, plugging the compressor into a long extension cord. 


It’s a windy day in Key West— if Bax had a lick of sense, he wouldn't have spray painted while the wind was blowing.


As thick as two short blanks, Baxter goes at, spraying the front side of the house. 


Regrettably, Bax is unaware that the wind is blowing north towards the Stones lawn, causing the paint to drift.


In no time, the Stone’s lawn and bushes are salmon-pink. 


When Lucia returns from Dog Beach on her Vespa scooter she’s stunned when she sees the pink make-over of the Tarzan and Jane's lawn.


Baxter Whitman has finished painting for the day and is  heating a TV dinner in his kitchen, unaware he’s spray-painted the Stone’s front lawn


Lucia, who’s standing on the porch, yells through an open window,


Henry, you gotta see this.


He runs outside in his underwear to the front porch, standing next to Lucia, surveying the painted lawn. Saying to her, 


I heard a compressor running earlier, it looks like Baxter Whitman was spray painting his house, and the paint drifted onto the Stone’s lawn. Tarzan and Jane will be home tomorrow, odds are they sue Bax because their lawn and bushes are dead. Lucia says,


there’s a box of lawn flamingos in the garage, we can put a few around the Stone’s house, who knows? Maybe they’ll like the new look. 


Henry and Lucia laugh out loud and he says, 


When life gives you lemons make a pitcher of margaritas. I’m thirsty baby, how about a drink?

3/15/21

Confessing to Father Ruiz





Henry's in his study, pencil drumming quadruple time to the  Miles Davis jam— Miles Runs the Voodoo Down. He realizes his rent is overdue, remembering the letter his landlord sent him.


Dear Mr. Lucowski,


Off to Europe, chasing my dream. I have no idea when I'll be back, so, send your rent money to my local bank.


Edward Ludnik

Wells Fargo Bank

Account # 361428754 


Call Sid Hamm the handyman, his numbers listed, for home repairs. Of course, the work is on your dime. 


Yours Truly,


Ed


Henry's rattled by the letter thinking, 


Repairs on my dime? If the rent wasn't so cheap I'd call Ludnik or Hamm and tell them to take a hike— What if a hurricane flattens the bungalow?  


More importantly, he notices two flies copulating on his desk. He waits till they're finished, have gotten off, or whatever it is flies do, then, swishes the fornicators off his desk, blowing gently in their vicinity.


Lucia, Henry's Cuban wife, walks into his office looking glum and says, 


do you think I’m fat darling?


She has a statuesque body, like Sophia Loren, not anorexic like runway models. Henry ribs her saying,


You need liposuction. The obesity specialist can suck your fat out through a tube. If you like they can put it in a jar so you can see it. Better lay off the beer and tortillas.


She breaks down and sobs, he gets out of his chair, walks to her, gives her a big hug, and says,


just kidding babe, you’re perfect.


Last night Henry, Lucia, and their lover Summer Wynd watched a TV documentary on the Salt Lake City Mormons. 


The program was lifeless, and the documented Mormons were blank and colorless.


What on Earth or Heaven moved Jesus slash God, the many-hued and majestic one, to spawn the dry as dust tribe of Mormon? 


Mormons have a health code that eschews— booze, dope, tobacco, tea, coffee. And, as you might guess, a law of chastity that prohibits sex until, and outside of marriage.  


So when it comes to Mormons you can say, 


Hard and fast laws and codes make Jack a dull boy.


Eventually, Henry caves in— unable to bear the lackluster TV Mormons, switching to the Oldies Channel, watching Mr. Ed, the only horse in history other than Black Beauty, that speaks. 


Lucia, who's half-asleep, says to him,


you had sex yet?


You mean today? 


I mean, with her.


Who’s that? 


Amy, the Black girl,


you're the only one I want.


You don’t need me, you need a shrink.


I’ve talked to Dr. Kidney recently. 


And, what did he say? 


Tell me what you think? And, that’ll be  200 Dollars. 


It didn’t help, you’re still crazy.


Why?


Because you paid 200 Dollars for nothing, pendejo.


More on the Mormons as Hunter S. Thompson sees it— referencing Utah’s bid for the 2002 Winter Olympic Games, laying bugoo blame for the lost bid on the LDS.


Corruption is a way of life in Utah, and they seem to like it that way. Mormons have been beating and cheating each other since the arrival of Brigham Young In 1847— He was a stern gentleman, they say, and nobody argued when he made Utah the permanent Kingdom of the Mormon Church and everything it stood for. 


It’s the Mormon way of life, a handful of gimme and a mouth full of much obliged. 


By midnight the girls are sound asleep. Mr. Ed, Bewitched, and The Munsters are over and the Indian Head Test Pattern defiantly projects light beams out of TV sets everywhere in South Florida.


Henry lights a joint, staring at the Test Pattern, figuring, the eery TV graphic signifies something deeper than the end of the programing day.


The girls are passed out, slouched, on the living room sofa— Henry sleepwalks to the bedroom, flopping down on the unmade bed with his clothes on. 


Deep in NREM sleep, he hears a high-pitched and mocking voice calling his name, figuring it's a parrot perched in a tree somewhere.


Henry……. Henry……. Henry— then,


you’re never gonna amount to nothing son, writing isn’t a job, it’s a hobby, get a real job!


He realizes it’s the voice of his dead father Buddy Lucowski, an itinerate lingerie salesman who drove the East Coast in an old Caddilac selling his ware. 


Henry wakes abruptly in a cold sweat, relieved the encounter was only a dream. Then, walking to the bathroom, opening the mirrored medicine cabinet, reaching for a bottle of Valium, and taking a couple. 


The travails of progenitors and their offspring linger on forever, passed from generation to generation.


Lucia, walks into his study and says, 


Darling, there's something I need to tell you. I grew up on a plantation outside of Havana. My family was poor, my mother had twelve kids, and my father drank himself to death. 


When I was sixteen I left the plantation and moved to Havana. I was broke and forced to do things I didn't want to do, selling my body even. He laughs, 


Yeah, I know, the night we met at El Gato Bar, you hustled me out of 4000 Pesos. Go Confess to Father Ruiz at Saint Marys, the sooner the better.


As the gravity of her inner peril tugs on her, she puts on a conservative black dress, picks up a Rosary from her bed stand, runs out of the house, and cranks up the Vespa scooter, making a B-line to Saint Marys.


At Saint Marys, she parks on the sidewalk and goes inside the modern pink church. The pews in the Nave are empty, so she walks past the Altar into the Presbytery, where the Padre's drinking Sacramental wine, drunk as a saint. He’s startled to see Lucia, saying to her in Spanish, 


la Iglesias es closed Señora, El Padre es ruminating.  


Por favor Padre, necesito confesar— Please I beg you!


Father Ruiz says in English,


 OK, go to the Confessional, Señora


Lucia waits anxiously for twenty minutes inside the confessional, kneeling in front of the latticed screen. When Father Ruiz shows, she makes the sign of the Cross and says prayerfully,


Bless me, Father, for I have sinned, my last confession was two years ago. 


Padre, I sold my body in Havana. And, I've engaged in sins of the flesh, with two lovers at once, my husband and our girlfriend. I use drugs and drink daily. This is all I can remember, I’m sorry for my sins. Father Ruiz says, 


Bless you, my child, Jesus loves you so much that he forgave your sins before you walked in the door. 


Your penance will be a personal offering and work of mercy. Go to The Tipsy Rooster Liquor store, across the street, and buy three gallons of Mogen David wine and have them delivered to the Presbytery. 


Father Ruiz then says the Prayer of Absolutions,


May our Lord and God, Jesus Christ, through the grace, mercy, and love for humankind, guide and watch over you, Amen.


Lucia makes the sign of the Cross, stands up, stumbling to regain her balance because her knees are numb from kneeling.


As she walks out of Saint Marys to The Tipsy Rooster, she feels uplifted and free from mental burdens thinking, 


Jesucristo, Confessing to Father Ruiz was a miracle!

3/4/21

Truly a Pro

 






Henry sucks down a beer as he looks out the window of his study at the rows of manicured lawns in his neighborhood thinking,  


my neighbors would slip into comas without their lawnmowers, spreaders, trimmers, rakes, and hand trowels. I'm gonna let my grass go to seed, like a field of Kansas wheat.


Then, death comes to mind,


it's always there, waiting somewhere near, ready to pounce. Grim Reaper, you fucking bloodsucker, go knock on my neighbor's door.


He thumbs through an underground paper, the lead story's on Lenny Bruce. Lenny was funny at times, his comedy bit, I Can’t Cum was a masterpiece. But his later bits in clubs were pure legalese, not funny, dwelling on his court problems, performing junked wearing nothing but a pair of loafers and a London Fog raincoat.


Henry’s Cuban wife Lucia and their lover Summer Wynd walk into his study and hug him, tussling his hair, 


don’t mess up my hair, it’ll mat, I don't want dreadlocks. So, what're you girls up to? Summer Wynd answers,


We’re going to Jamaica with Dirk the lifeguard on his boyfriend's cigarette boat, they're leaving from Dog Beach in an hour. We've made reservations at a gay resort, Cum on the Beach. 


Cum on the Beach huh? Enticing, gay resorts are a bit over the top don't ya think? I'll take a rain check, sweetie.


OK, love, we gotta pack and get going.


Henry's been writing a story on Larry Flynt, Hustler Magazine publisher, and a founding father of monthly flesh mags— full of hotties with their legs spread, flashing pink.


As the sun sets, he showers, oils, and combs his long hair,  dresses, then putting on shorts, and a tank top. He realizes writing the bit on Larry Flynt has unleashed a powerful bodily urge, for sex and an In & Out Burger.


Leaving home, he backs his 73 Chevy Malibu Wagon out of the feeble wooden garage, backing down the driveway to the street.


The structure's standing on a whim and a prayer, ready to collapse any moment, having been eaten by a tribe of fat and happy termites.


Henry's planning a rowdy demolition party— an open house for his neighbors that'll jack em up beyond their formulated existences.


He’ll rent a mini bulldozer, put on a football helmet and a pair of safety glasses—  rev the dozer's engine on the street, then let the tractor rip full-tilt boogie down the driveway, plowing into the frail wooden garage. Repeating the process until the structure's pulverized. 


Summer Wynd will videotape the demolition-extravaganza for posterity, those poor souls who come after us.


Driving his Malibu wagon, he skims the perimeter of Key West on A1A, then, then spanning Highway 1 bridge on his way to the next island, Cow Key— home of a small Air Force base with an unknown number of B-1 Strategic Bombers deep in a concrete bunker revved to embark on sallies to Cuba at the behest of any old wild-eyed SAC commander and blow the Lilliputian island sky-high. 


The GIs stationed on Cow Key spend every minute of their 24-hour furloughs at the island's strip clubs.


After cruising the back roads, Henry wheels into the crushed stone parking lot of a joint called Booty Call.


Parking, he gets out of his car and looks at his watch, it’s 8 PM. 


There's a biker at the entrance wearing his colors— an Outlaw's patch comprised of a skull centered on two crossed pistons. 


The Outlaw's colors resemble a Nazi SS's Death Head insignia— much of their paraphernalia is Nazi-style because it rattles mainstream Americans. 


Bonafide bikers aren't anti-semitic per se, but the gangs are segregated — the Hell's Angels only accept Whites, the Bandidos only recruit Hispanics, and none of the gangs want Blacks, so Blacks put together their own clubs such as the Hells Egos, Outcasts, and Magic Wheels.


The cover in Booty Call is 20 bucks, including two drinks. 


Inside, there're four poles where stripers are in various stages of getting naked. The sounds of Motorhead's Thunder and Lighting are blaring through large black speakers suspended on chains from the ceiling. The vibe's

barking mad, and sinister to boot.


The strip joint’s plush, the booth seating, table chairs, and bar stools are upholstered with purple velvet


There’s a surprisingly good light show bright enough to get a view of the tits and ass on parade.


Henry sits at the bar, the bartender’s a light-skinned Black gal wearing a bikini, her hair's TWA style, a blond teeny weenie afro. She asks, 


What-ta-ya have handsum? 


how bout a boilermaker?


We don't get many long hairs here, just GIs from the base.


I haven’t cut my hair in twenty years, I’m Tonsure-phobic. 


Hope u ain't sex-phobic baby,


why, do you trick? 


Sure, gotta pay for Pampers you know.


What time you get off beautiful? 


Midnight,


where you staying? 


Bahamian Village with my Aunty,


you gotta name? 


Sure do, Amy Williams, and yours? 


Henry, Henry Lucowski. 


Whataya do, 


I’m a freelance writer. 


What about your old lady?


I got two of em, but they’re away, gone to Jamaica with two gay friends.


I’ll take real good care of you for 250 baby, 


no problem, you take credit cards? 


You'll funny, Henry.


Amy's enchanting, so much that Henry's tuned out the sounds of the booty-crazed GIs egging the dancers on—


come on, come on, shake that thang, take it off, take it off.  


At midnight a dancer, Brandy, shows to relieve Amy, who counts her bank then lifts the cash tray from the register, looking at Henry saying, 


Baby, what kinda car you got? 


A 73 Chevy Malibu Wagon, I’ll be sitting on the hood,


OK.


She walks with her cash tray in hand to the boss's office.


40 minutes later Amy comes out of Booty Call in jeans, and a hoody. She and Henry get in the station wagon, sitting in the front seat she begins bum rapping the owner, a guy named Stan. 


Stan, my boss, counted my bank over and over, comin on to me, I get tired of his shit. Henry changes the subject,


what about your kids?


They stay with my Aunty.


As he drives out of the parking lot towards Highway 1 he lights a joint, they pass it back and forth, Amy puts her hand between his legs and he says, 


You're making me horny, 


your ladies don’t take care of you, doll? 


Yeah sure, but there's nothin like fresh trim.


In no time Henry's wheeling his station wagon into the bungalow driveway, parking there, afraid the garage is going to collapse.


In the house, the quick lovers go to the living room and Amy sits on the sofa.


Whataya have to drink sweetie?  


Crown and Seven, 


OK, babe, you got it.


He walks to the kitchen and mixes a couple Crown and Sevens, bringing them back to the living room. 


Amy's turned the TV on, watching Woodstock, the bit where Sly and the Family Stone are playing, I Want to Take you Higher. She's in her underwear dancing. Henry's turned on saying,


Your body's perfect, I love it, 


I’m wet honey, let’s go to the bedroom. 


In the bedroom the quick lovers flop on the unmade bed, doing 69, balling hot and heavy. 


At noon the following morning, they wake, shower, then Amy wraps up in Lucia’s silk kimono. Henry pulls his hair back, wrapping it with a thick rubber band. They go to the kitchen and he makes brunch—an omelet, bagels and lox, bloody marys, and plenty of brewed coffee with hot milk. 


After brunch they walk to the back yard, stepping over the thick crawling vines and through the piles of fallen palm stalks, then getting naked and getting in the warm and bubbly wooden hot tub, making out, playing touchy-feely. 


Twenty minutes later, Lucia and Summer Wynd walk in the front door of the bungalow, hearing splashing and giggling in the back yard, they walk to the hot tub. Summer Wynd says,


we didn't make it to Jamaica, the cigarette boat's engine died, Dirk sent out an SOS and the Coast Guard eventually showed. Lucia says, 


who’s your friend Henry? You don’t waste any time puta de mierda.


Oh, Amy Williams, I'm glad you guys made it home safe.


Resigned to it all, the girls strip and get in the hot tub, in not time the scene morphs into an orgy. Amy says to Henry, 


that’ll be 450, extra for the girls, you cool with that?  


Amy was truly a pro.