I didn’t mention that I have had many opportunities to have a threesome with Cammy, but never took any.
“I know a guy who also ‘swings both ways,’ as you put it,” I said. “He’s a really nice person. If you were trying to shock me, it didn’t work.”
“You are very unusual,” Lynette said.
She then stopped dancing and gave me a long kiss in the middle of the dance floor. Her tongue was insistent and our action was noticed by many people, including Kristen, who mostly looked amused.
“I’m looking forward to this weekend,” Lynette said after finally breaking the kiss.
“So am I,” I said, smiling.
We were in one of a set of limos that Kristen hired leaving the senior prom.
I felt a little out of place. Of all the people in our group, Roy and I were the youngest by at least a year. Of course, being the boyfriend of the hostess for the rest of the weekend gave me certain benefits of being the “host.”
Surprisingly, none of the guys treated me as a kid. They seemed quite interested in what I had to say, and spoke with me about the kind of songs they liked (after all, popular music was considered my specialty, and one people could identify with).
I think I earned my own badges over the past year. After all, I was known as “Oogie” to just about everybody in my school. Since the name referred to the song I dedicated to the most wonderful girl in the world, I found that I had little problem with it.
Of course, my real friends called me Jim. The big exception was Kristen, who called me “Oogie” just about any time the feeling hit her. Did I have a problem with that? Are you fucking kidding?
Actually, the people who were part of Kristen’s birthday party started referring to me as “Oogie Woogie,” the name that Camille came up with before Kristen’s birthday party. I thought of “Oogie Woogie” as a persona, and not as myself; that showman who had no embarrassment when he stood at a microphone and sang a very personal love song to the Goddess of his dreams in front of strangers and even her parents. The guy who could get his lover’s mother to sing a song in public after having left the field for almost twenty years.
When Tiny wasn’t with June, he was near me. I think other people bothered him. He was known as an athlete, but due to his skin color and other biases, he really never was part of the “in crowd.” He felt more comfortable with the musical crowd, which readily accepted him once we found out he was talented, and that crowd seemed to have no concept of skin color or stupid stereotypes… at least, that described most of the people who were part of my jazz band.
Tiny seemed to think that he owed me a debt of gratitude. I thought this was strange, since Tiny was the savior of nearly every pretty girl in the schooclass="underline" Tim Hawking had all the makings of a serial rapist with the scary benefit of owning Lucky Tickets.
I didn’t know how to handle Tiny, except as an equal. He was nearly my equal on my favorite instrument, the trumpet. I would even go so far as to say that he was better at coming up with improvisational solos. If I looked at him that way, I could easily treat him as an equal. The fact that June got along with nearly everybody also helped out.
We were going to a vacation villa on Lake Michigan that had ten bedrooms, an equal number of bathrooms, lots of living space, and a boathouse on a tributary that easily led to the lake. The boathouse contained a cabin cruiser and two outboard power boats.
When we arrived, the owner of the property showed us all around, and gave everybody a half hour lesson on boating safety. During the summer, there was a roped in swimming area that was accessible from the property, but the owner pointed out that the temperature of the lake water was in the forties, so lake swimming was probably not a good idea. Luckily, there was a large heated pool that was currently in an enclosure that would be perfect for the anticipated weather.
At the lake, the owner pointed out the buoys that identified the deep waters necessary for reaching the Great Lake. We were also warned to stay out of the lake during bad weather; it may be a lake, but it was a Great Lake and its size made it dangerous when the weather turned.
Although the owner knew that we were all on a senior weekend, Kristen apparently dealt with him previously as was made clear when he always called her by her first name. She paid a hefty security deposit for the long weekend we were going to be there. Even in the event of emergency, the owner could be reached and at the property within minutes.
At one time or another during the school year, I partied with nearly everybody except June, and nobody seemed to be heavy drinkers. Even so, there were a couple of cases of Budweiser when we unpacked. By my reckoning, there would be a bit more than three cans of beer for every person in our group—a number I thought was a bit high, but Kristen assured me that amount could be managed.
Being one of the youngest people at the property, I had the least knowledge of what to expect on a “senior weekend.”
Kristen and I got the master bedroom, and the others picked rooms that were convenient. People quickly changed into bathing suits and about a half hour after the owner left, we started to head down to the swimming pool.
Outside the boathouse were a few canoes and a couple of row boats, and some couples made plans to use the boats in the future. Kristen suggested that every couple that uses a boat let Camille or her know so that there was an accounting for all the equipment and people.
I swam for about an hour and then moved out of the pool, resting on one of the lounge chairs outside in the fresh air. Tiny and June took out a row boat, and I could see him rowing the two of them out toward the lake. I watched as he dipped the paddles expertly into the water.
Kristen asked if I wanted to take one of the boats into the lake, and I declined. I was a bit water-logged and wanted get back to the villa. It was a warm day, about seventy degrees, but the air still felt a bit chilly after leaving the warm pool. Camille seemed to feel the same way, and the two of us went back into the villa.
“This is a great change of pace,” I said to Camille once we were back in the house.
“In what way?”
“I’ve been doing music, music, music since the year began. Don’t get me wrong… I love it! This is just a change of pace. I don’t have to write anything. I don’t have to help somebody who is having problems… I don’t even have a fucking piano nearby. You know?”
“How did you get so old?” Camille asked.
“Huh?” I asked.
“You sound like a teacher, not a student,” Camille said. “We’re supposed to be having the time of our lives. We’re in high school. Maybe we sweat a bit with homework and tests, but this is supposed to be the time of our lives.”
“That’s not how things are happening with me,” I observed.
“You have a lot of responsibilities. Your jazz band, the musical, tutoring Tiny and Toby. And you are in fucking tenth grade!”
“Yeah,” I said. Actually, I didn’t have any complaints, but not having any particular responsibilities relieved a burden that I hadn’t even realized that I was carrying until now. “Wait until next year. Everybody will expect me to top this year.”
“That’s a quick way to an early grave, Jim,” Camille said. “My dad was like that. Work, work, work. A heart attack on the job, and he’s gone. Poof! Just like that.”
“I don’t think…”
“I’m not saying that you’re heart attack material, Jim,” Camille said, softly. “I’m just saying that you don’t need to save the world. The one thing I didn’t mention before was that on top of all those other responsibilities, you have to deal with those tickets and assholes like Tim Hawking.”