"Oh yeah," he admitted, nodding. "There's nothing like getting stoned. Well, almost nothing. But I'll live. I hope Maggie understands. She likes to smoke a little bit with me. But I don't think it'll bother her that I quit. And the minute I make captain and don't have to drive anything anymore, I'm gonna go score me a fuckin' ounce and smoke it all in one night."
I grinned. "Be sure and invite me over," I told him. "How's it going with you and Maggie anyway?"
"It's goin' great," he assured me. "If she wasn't at work right now I'd be over there instead of bullshittin' with you." He grinned lasciviously, "I'm tellin' you Bill, that chick really knows how to fuck."
"What?" I asked, surprised at his words although I really shouldn't have been.
He nodded knowingly. "And she can suck dick like you wouldn't believe too. The other night she finally gave it up for the first time. Goddam she was hot. We started out in her living room. We were watching some TV and then we started kissing a little. She let me feel her tits, she has nice tits, and then she unbuttoned my…"
"Mike," I interrupted.
"What?" he asked, looking confused, wondering why I was intruding upon his sex story.
"Have you told anybody else about this?" I asked him.
"About fucking Maggie?" he asked. "No, you're the first. Why?"
I shook my head. "Don't take what I'm telling you the wrong way," I said, "I'm telling you this in friendship and to help you, just like when I told you about the Air Force recruiter, remember?"
"Yeah, but… what are you talking about?"
"Don't tell people about what you do with Maggie," I advised sternly. "Don't tell anybody a damn thing. Not even me, not even if they ask. Keep it to yourself. I know it's hard to do, I know that a guy's instinct is to share his conquests with everyone, to let other guys know he's a man. But it's a bad idea. A very bad idea."
He looked at me strangely. I could see the old immature hostility at being contradicted wanting to come forth. "I'm just telling you," he said. "Maggie doesn't know. And she wouldn't care anyway."
"Wrong." I said. "Now I don't know Maggie as well as you do, but I know women pretty well. And I know guys pretty well. If you tell me, you'll tell others. But even if you don't, you can't even trust me. Suppose I passed on what you said to Tracy. Tracy might run into Cindy, who is her friend. Cindy is also a friend of Maggie's. Suppose Maggie hears from Cindy exact quotes from what you just told me. She wouldn't be very happy. Her unhappiness will increase with each person that the story passed through before it got back to her. It really is a small world and if you are in the habit of blabbing your exploits to people, word will get around and get back to her. Women will break up with you in an instant if they find out you're telling people about what you do with them in bed. Worse than that, any other woman that the story has passed through will not have anything to do with you because they know you'll tell everyone. Are you following me?"
He looked a little shell shocked by my words. "Yeah, I see. But you won't tell Tracy anything."
"You can't know that." I told him, "You can't know that about even me and I'm your best friend. All it would take would be a few beers with Tracy, a little loosening of the tongue, and then out pops the story. You definitely can't know that about other people. Trust me on this. Keep you mouth shut about it if you want to keep her. Fuck the shit out of her at night. Enjoy it immensely. But don't tell a soul about it. Why even take a chance on her finding out? What's more important Mike, continuing to get the pussy and not having anybody know you're getting it or getting it a few times, letting everybody know, and then losing the pussy because you blabbed? Myself, I gotta go with continued pussy every time. No contest."
He was looking thoughtful at my speech but didn't say anything.
"Besides," I went on. "After it becomes known that you and Maggie are together, everyone is gonna know you're fucking her anyway. They'll know you're a man, they'll know you're taking her home and boffing the shit out of her. So why provide them with details? Let them just think about what you're doing with her and they're not. Let the fuckers be envious."
He nodded a little, brightening to what I'd said. "I see what you're saying."
"So if I come up to you and say, "Mike, you been fucking Maggie or what?", what are you gonna say?"
He smiled. "I'd say this:" He shrugged, "Maggie and I are just good friends."
I grinned. "You're learning Mike. You're learning."
"You know where I learned that line from?" he asked me.
"Where?"
"From you," he told me.
"From me?"
"Over the last couple a years," he said, "I used to see you with girls from school all the time. They used to be around you at lunch, around you after school, around you before school. Whenever I'd ask you about one of them, that's what you'd say. That you were just friends."
"And friends were all that we ever were."
He shook his head in wonder. "You sly motherfucker," he said respectfully.
The next morning, shortly after breakfast, Tracy and I were playing a game of cribbage in her cave. Tracy was not a happy person being eternally trapped in a den of her parent's house. She was suffering from a full-blown case of cabin fever and was very cranky at best. I was twenty points ahead of her and had just slapped down a double card run, fouling her mood even more.
"You lucky asshole," she said in disgust, throwing her cards at me. "This is a stupid game."
"And I'm about to skunk you at it," I added. "Which means you'll owe me fifty cents instead of a quarter, plus double points."
"Fuck you and deal," she told me. "And please turn off whatever crap that is you've put on the turntable. It reminds me of taking car trips with Mom and Dad when we were little."
"It's the Beatles," I told her. "This is the most classic rock and roll there is. How can you not like it?"
"It's old fogey music. Put on one of my albums, they're much better."
"Eighties music is an atrocity. You can't compare the freakin Thompson Twins to the Beatles. It's not even the same category."
"I LIKE the Thompson Twins," she said. "And I HATE the Beatles. And I'm the one that's injured and you're the one in MY room. So put on the fucking Thompson Twins."
"All right," I gave in, setting the cards down and heading for the stereo. Just then the phone started to ring.
"You got that Bill?" Dad yelled from his perch in the living room. Mom was off at work.
"Yeah," I said, changing course and heading for the phone. "Hello?"
"Bill?" It was Nina and she sounded very excited. "Have you got your mail yet?"
"I don't think so," I said, already intuiting what she was talking about. "Nobody's gone out to get it anyway. Why? Did you get a letter from the college?"
"Acceptance and full academic scholarship!" she squealed happily. "I'm in Bill. I'm in! And I'll be able to afford to go!"
"That's great Nina," I said, getting excited myself. "Let me go check the mail and see if mine's there. Here, talk to Tracy." I handed the phone, actually tossed it, to my sister and rushed out of the room.
Still wearing my sweat pants and no shirt I rushed by my Dad, who looked at me curiously, and out the front door. I went directly to the mailbox by the curb, throwing open the door and peering inside. There was a stack of mail in there. I grabbed it, shuffling quickly through the envelopes, magazines, and junk mail, looking for a return address from the University of Washington at Seattle. I found it near the bottom.
Standing there, holding it in my hand, I was suddenly scared, suddenly afraid to open it. Inside was either a yes or a no. If it was yes, Nina and I would be going to college together. If it was a no, who knows what would happen. I took a deep breath. With hands that were shaking, I finally tore open the envelope. One quick glance told me all I needed to know. I returned to the house.