“Fuck,” Marla breathed when I finished the song.
“I bet you’re wet down there,” June said, giggling.
“Of course…” Marla cut her comment off, her embarrassment overtaking her.
“You should have heard him in the practice room that day,” June said, softly. “He played the entire flip side of Abbey Road, singing all the parts, and only stopped at the drum solo on The End. Then he switched to Joy to the World and began a medley of Three Dog Night.”
“You heard that?” I asked.
“Everybody heard it, Jim! Mr. Proilet opened the door and you were playing… banging, really… and he was just standing there, staring at you. He called off classes. Your face looked as if you were ready to cry at any moment, and we all were worried about you. Finally, you played the introduction to a song and then slammed the keyboard hard. I mean, most of us were shocked at the amount of emotion you poured into what you were singing. You laid your head down on the piano and…”
“The door was open?” I asked, quite shocked.
“Anybody that didn’t know you were a genius, found out that you were that day,” June said. “You were distracted, and you put on a show—unintentionally, I realize—but you put on a show that rivaled the Music Man. Nobody wanted to interrupt you… even your teacher was in awe at what you were doing.”
Oh my god. My tantrum hadn’t been as private as I thought.
June just hugged me. “That morning, when you played Mr. Bojangles for me, I was just playing at loving you. When I saw you later on that day, pouring out your soul on the piano, I realized that I really loved you, even more than I thought I did.”
I sighed.
I hadn’t realized that Marla was sucking me as June was telling me, but when June told me that she loved me, I blasted off into Marla’s mouth for the second time that morning.
June and I took Marla home afterward.
Marla didn’t give me her virginity that day, but she whispered to me as she hugged me in front of her Aunt Gin’s house that I was going to be a very difficult act to follow. She now had her requirements for her first sexual partner, and I was worried that she might have a difficult time in fulfilling them.
After Marla got into her aunt’s house, I walked slowly into June’s car.
“To the college?” June asked.
“No, June,” I said, sadly. “Take me to Lake Shore Point. I need a friend to hug me.”
“Yes, Master.”
“No, June!”
“Sorry. Yes, Jim.”
I needed a hug. Marla was probably what was never meant to be with me. I wondered how many people I would never meet in Orange County would hear and repeat those Oogie Stories that she knew and would repeat from her cousin over the next couple of years.
“Jim?” June asked after we just hugged for about twenty minutes.
“What?”
“What if I…?”
“No, June,” I said, reading her mind. “Save it for Archy. He’s your future.”
June looked at me with that look that I’ve seen in her eyes a million times. “How do you do it?”
I think it was the one year anniversary from the date that I found the “Lucky Tickets” that June arrived at our gate on Saturday, telling security that Cunt Whore was there.
Kristen wasn’t in, as she had classes that day.
I got the standard message from security, who seemed to get a kick out of the Cunt Whore and Pussy Slave visitors we constantly had. “Please send her in, and use the message ‘Cunt Whore is not allowed today, but June Rodgers may meet Jim at the apartment, fully clothed.’”
“Yes, sir.”
June arrived at the apartment. “What was that all about?”
“Archy is gone. I know you miss him, and I don’t need Cunt Whore any more. I never wanted that, in fact. After you told me that you heard my tantrum in the practice room and how you felt about me afterward, I decided that I would like a friend that I can talk to, who doesn’t mind kissing and cuddling, and who likes Kristen as much as you do.”
There were tears in June’s eyes. “My mom told me that you loved me, Jim.”
“She did?”
“She said you were a strong person, and put her in her place. She didn’t think that you would have taken my virginity that night, but as a mother, she couldn’t allow herself to do anything to possibly hurt me.”
“I knew that,” I said.
“She wants to come over, you know.”
That, I didn’t know. I said nothing, and waited.
“She purchased the handcuffs. I saw them, and pretended not to notice them.”
Oh, shit.
“How are Archy’s practices going?” I asked, wanting to change the subject.
“The coach is a slave driver, and he barely has time to write a couple of sentences to me every day. He’s overtired and he’s the smallest linebacker, if you can believe that!”
“I guess his nickname is finally appropriate,” I said.
“I miss him, Jim. He earns some extra money Friday nights playing in a small combo at a local hotel.”
“I know you miss Archy,” I said, hugging June very close. It had been a very long since I hugged a fully clothed June in my arms. The sensation was… erotic, if you could believe that.
June seemed to sense that as well, and we rubbed against each other as lovers who know each other’s secrets do.
“How do you do it?” June asked me for the umpteenth time.
“Magic,” I answered. I long gave up trying to answer that question. I didn’t have a good answer when I asked it myself.
We cuddled together for a while.
Finally, I found the courage to say, “Do you remember my sister, Merry?”
“The fisherman?” June chuckled.
“Yeah,” I smiled. “She’s entering tenth this year.”
“Ooh,” June smiled. “Two Oogies at once!”
“Not quite. She’s not musical, and she’s not even related to me.”
“She’s your step-sister, right?” June asked.
“Yeah.”
“That’s when… um…”
“Her mother passed away. Her father married my mother, but I was already born. My mother isn’t really her mother, and her father isn’t really my father. I never refer to Merry’s father as my own, but Merry calls my mother ‘Mom.’”
“Sounds confusing,” June said. “I know what it’s like when your father disappears.”
“My father didn’t disappear. I made him disappear. I would rather eat rat poison than spend another second in his company. My mom and I escaped from him, and he moved away somewhere out west. Mom found Merry’s father, and they married. He’s a good man, but the word ‘father’ still leaves a bad taste in my mouth.”
“There are good fathers,” June said.
“Name one.”
“Archy’s.”
“Touché,” I said, conceding the point. Archy’s father was the black equivalent of Ward Cleaver from the TV series, with a good sense of humor. He was also quite smart. “Most fathers are assholes.”
June sighed. “Why were we talking about Merry?”
“Oh, yeah,” I said, getting back on track.
“So…?”
“Merry used to do gymnastics. She wasn’t competitive, but she was good. I’ve gotten to know a few cheerleaders, and I think they are a great bunch of people.”
“Is she as good as Sherry?” June asked.
“No,” I said, truthfully.
“Have her try out. The name Crittenhouse will go a long way.”
“Her last name is Cummings, and if you smirk at that name, I will paddle your ass until it turns raw.”