the tree. The crowd roared its approval. Nothing like the sight of bare flesh (even mine) to pick up the party pace.
We timed our arrival well. The doorbell rang and a harassed-looking older guy marched in with 14 large pizzas. A massive order, but his premonition came true. He left without a tip. During the ensuing gorging someone was heard to say loudly, “Oh, they’re nothing but trailer trash.” Then everyone made a point of politely not looking at me. Guess I know where I stand with that crowd.
Forty-five minutes later all that remained were a few picked-over crusts. The beer was gone too, and we were reduced to drinking a “punch” mixed by Drew from the contents of Mr. Glasgow’s liquor cabinet. By then we had joined a group lounging out on the patio around a blazing outdoor fireplace. Nights in the high desert can be cool even in summer, so the cheery warmth was welcome–if not leather-clad Cody Wangston and his guitar. That guy is such a poseur. And applauding him politely after every song just encourages the twit. Still, I got to park right next to Uma, though I was too chicken to put my arm around her. All that booze had yet to weaken Inhibition One, although it was playing havoc with my bladder. Every ten minutes I had to stumble off toward the bushes to piss out another gallon.
“ You OK, Noel?” Uma asked at one point.
“ Never better,” I slurred. “Need a refill?”
“ No, I’m fine for now. What is it we’re drinking?”
“ Don’t ask me. Tastes like they drained it out of a prairie dog.”
“ Hey, Noel,” called cute Allison Linden, addressing me for the first time in her glamorous life. “Where’s that big cousin of yours?”
“ Went back to L.A.”
“ I hear he actually warmed up Stoney Holt.”
“ Yup, all us Wescotts are catnip to chicks.”
“ Shhh,” hissed some girl behind us. “We’re trying to hear Cody.”
Hey, what is this? A goddam folk concert? Uma and I retreated to the house–now a dim scene of intensive writhing in every room. Dasan had turned down the volume and turned up the make-out music.
“ How you doin’, Noel,” he said. “I ran into your buddy Carlyle Bogy today. What’s with that dude?”
“ He’s sincere, Dasan. He genuinely wants to be black.”
“ Well, you better remind him he ain’t passin’ the physical. Good thing he’s out here in the sticks. If he tried that act in Vegas, he’d be askin’ for trouble. The brothers down there don’t take that shit.”
Formerly a contented resident of Nevada’s largest city, Dasan had been dragged kicking and screaming to Winnemucca when his dad (a Highway Patrol cop) was transferred to this district.
“ Yeah, I know.”
“ I hear you took over Rot Dugan’s slave job.”
“ Uh-huh,” I admitted, coloring.
“ Man, they got some weird crackers in this burg. It’s like the Twilight Zone out here. Am I right, Uma?”
“ You are so right, Dasan,” she replied, exchanging high fives with him.
I handed him a coupon.
“ That’s good for $10 off our deluxe adore ceremony,” I explained. “Drop by anytime.”
“ I might do that,” he replied. “You busy tomorrow, Uma?”
At long last, the booze kicked in.
“ Sorry, she’s taken,” I said, grasping her warm hand and planting a wet one firmly on her lips.
To my utter astonishment, she kissed me back.
Uma also let me hold her hand on the walk home. I switched my iPod back on to prolong the holiday mood.
“ What other kinds of music do you like, Noel?” she asked.
“ Lately I’ve been obsessing on the Frantic Couplings.”
“ They’re hot,” she agreed. “But didn’t they break up?”
“ No, they just had to interrupt their tour because the lead guitarist had some psychotic episodes.”
“ Can’t they medicate him?”
“ They tried, but the music sucked. Say, where’d you get that jockstrap?”
“ Why? Are you missing one?”
“ No, it just doesn’t seem like something the average girl carries
We timed our arrival well. The doorbell rang and a harassed-looking older guy marched in with 14 large pizzas. A massive order, but his premonition came true. He left without a tip. During the ensuing gorging someone was heard to say loudly, “Oh, they’re nothing but trailer trash.” Then everyone made a point of politely not looking at me. Guess I know where I stand with that crowd.
Forty-five minutes later all that remained were a few picked-over crusts. The beer was gone too, and we were reduced to drinking a “punch” mixed by Drew from the contents of Mr. Glasgow’s liquor cabinet. By then we had joined a group lounging out on the patio around a blazing outdoor fireplace. Nights in the high desert can be cool even in summer, so the cheery warmth was welcome–if not leather-clad Cody Wangston and his guitar. That guy is such a poseur. And applauding him politely after every song just encourages the twit. Still, I got to park right next to Uma, though I was too chicken to put my arm around her. All that booze had yet to weaken Inhibition One, although it was playing havoc with my bladder. Every ten minutes I had to stumble off toward the bushes to piss out another gallon.
“ You OK, Noel?” Uma asked at one point.
“ Never better,” I slurred. “Need a refill?”
“ No, I’m fine for now. What is it we’re drinking?”
“ Don’t ask me. Tastes like they drained it out of a prairie dog.”
“ Hey, Noel,” called cute Allison Linden, addressing me for the first time in her glamorous life. “Where’s that big cousin of yours?”
“ Went back to L.A.”
“ I hear he actually warmed up Stoney Holt.”
“ Yup, all us Wescotts are catnip to chicks.”
“ Shhh,” hissed some girl behind us. “We’re trying to hear Cody.”
Hey, what is this? A goddam folk concert? Uma and I retreated to the house–now a dim scene of intensive writhing in every room. Dasan had turned down the volume and turned up the make-out music.
“ How you doin’, Noel,” he said. “I ran into your buddy Carlyle Bogy today. What’s with that dude?”
“ He’s sincere, Dasan. He genuinely wants to be black.”
“ Well, you better remind him he ain’t passin’ the physical. Good thing he’s out here in the sticks. If he tried that act in Vegas, he’d be askin’ for trouble. The brothers down there don’t take that shit.”
Formerly a contented resident of Nevada’s largest city, Dasan had been dragged kicking and screaming to Winnemucca when his dad (a Highway Patrol cop) was transferred to this district.
“ Yeah, I know.”
“ I hear you took over Rot Dugan’s slave job.”
“ Uh-huh,” I admitted, coloring.
“ Man, they got some weird crackers in this burg. It’s like the Twilight Zone out here. Am I right, Uma?”
“ You are so right, Dasan,” she replied, exchanging high fives with him.
I handed him a coupon.
“ That’s good for $10 off our deluxe adore ceremony,” I explained. “Drop by anytime.”
“ I might do that,” he replied. “You busy tomorrow, Uma?”
At long last, the booze kicked in.
“ Sorry, she’s taken,” I said, grasping her warm hand and planting a wet one firmly on her lips.
To my utter astonishment, she kissed me back.
Uma also let me hold her hand on the walk home. I switched my iPod back on to prolong the holiday mood.
“ What other kinds of music do you like, Noel?” she asked.
“ Lately I’ve been obsessing on the Frantic Couplings.”
“ They’re hot,” she agreed. “But didn’t they break up?”
“ No, they just had to interrupt their tour because the lead guitarist had some psychotic episodes.”
“ Can’t they medicate him?”
“ They tried, but the music sucked. Say, where’d you get that jockstrap?”
“ Why? Are you missing one?”
“ No, it just doesn’t seem like something the average girl carries
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