Surfing Dude

by Ed Nelson

  I followed the girls lead. I wasn’t looking for a make out session, I wanted some normal friends. Now don’t get me wrong, I am all for making out.

  After eating we did something I had never heard of before. We went to a shopping mall. I was told this was the coming thing in shopping. The Fashion Square Mall had opened last year. It was built onto Bullocks. It was interesting walking around the stores and looking in the windows. After a while, Neiman-Marcus, The Broadway, Harris & Frank, Desmond’s, and J.J. Candies looked the same to me.

  I wanted to go into the candy store, but they dragged me into the tea room at Bullocks. We had PB&J sandwiches. They were awesome!

  The real reason for going there was quickly apparent. There were kids from everywhere. This was the cool place to be on Friday night. The rec-center was history; this is where it was at. I think I was introduced to the student bodies of at least three or four high schools. Emily and Jill were taking full advantage of my fame.

  Bill and I just went with the flow. He was a cool guy.

  A few of the girls we met tried to be extra friendly, but Emily had her territory well-guarded. I thought it was cute of her. First, she was my date so I wouldn’t be rude and pay attention to other girls. Secondly, she was the cutest one I met.

  There were a couple of flashy blondes that were cheer-leader types that thought they were hot stuff. Flashy was the thing that turned me off. When I thought of Mum, Anna and Sharon who were the best-looking women I knew, they all were classy looking, not flash. Emily was that same type of understated good looks. Like Audrey Hepburn.

  After a while we guys let the girls know enough was enough. We decided to cruise down South Bristol Street between McFadden and Warner. Traffic was slow so we were able to talk to kids in the cars in the next lane. Of course, I had the usual offer to race for pinks, but wasn’t dumb enough to do it.

  While we cruised we listen to the radio about, the British Kept a-Coming, 12th Street and Vine, a Purple Hat and Something Told a Tale on You.

  Around ten thirty we headed back to Emily’s house. I enjoyed the company, but the evening wasn’t really that much fun. I hoped that future dates would be better. I guess that answered a question, I was thinking of future dates.

  After dropping off first Bill and then Jill we headed back to Emily’s. After seeing the kiss Jill laid on Bill, I couldn’t wait to get to Emily’s front door.

  It wasn’t to be. Her very harassed looking Dad met us at the front door. I wasn’t even given an opportunity to try for a good night kiss.

  “Rick, I owe you an apology for my actions earlier this evening.”

  I had to think for a moment.

  “You mean the gun cleaning stunt?”

  “Yes, I was way out of line. Susan has really let me know about it. Your parents took it in better spirit than she did.

  “My parents?”

  “Susan made me call them and apologize. Your Mother asked if the weapon was locked and loaded. I told her it was disassembled and not loaded. After that she asked what the big deal was. Your Dad loved the idea and can’t wait for your little sister to start dating. Anyway, I’m sorry I did that.”

  “Uh, that’s okay, I took it in the spirit you did it.”

  Plus, I thought, I could have taken you apart three times before you could reassemble it and load.

  Since I was in the house I got involved in the debriefing for where we went, who we saw and all the other details. How Emily could remember who wore what I’ll never know.

  Mr. Weeks and I bowed out quickly and retired to the kitchen. Over a Coke he told me he was sorry that his wife got upset, not sorry that he did it. We both agreed that it was a good time honored tradition and should be continued. After that we had a serious conversation about my coming year.

  He was all for Emily getting her pilots license. It was a family tradition starting with her grandmother who was the first woman to win the Bendix trophy. We discussed how my lessons were going. He thought that Mr. McGarry had waited too long for me to solo. Many pilots would be doing it in ten hours not twenty.

  He asked what McGarry’s credentials were. I didn’t know, and told him the only thing that seemed different was his flight jacket.

  When I described the Chinese lettering and tiger with wings he told me, “Listen to him very carefully, if he wanted you to take twenty hours that was the right thing.”

  Before I could ask what was so important about a tiger with wings the ladies joined us. Emily was allowed to walk me to my car. There I got that good night kiss. It wasn’t as hot and steamy as Bill and Jill, but very nice. We must have lingered too long because the porch lights started flashing.

  With a giggle, Emily headed in and I drove home.

  Chapter 22

  At breakfast in the morning I was quizzed about my evening. I hadn’t had as many questions about hitch hiking across America or sailing the Atlantic. My standard answers of fine and good didn’t cut it. Mum led the interrogation, but I could tell Dad was paying attention behind his paper.

  They both chuckled as I told them about Mr. Weeks cleaning his weapon while telling me their dating rules for Emily. Dad added that when Mary started dating he would be cleaning his Holland & Holland. From the look Mum gave him I wouldn’t bet on it.

  After breakfast, I decided to go for a swim.

  Last week it was running from girls with Hula Hoops, this week I was swimming in the outside pool. As I climbed out of the water a flash bulb went off in my face. Mary had taken a picture with a big old camera like the reporters in 1930’s movies carried.

  “What are you doing squirt?”

  “I’m a papa rats eye. Since you are famous I’m going to sell your picture for a whole bunch of money.”

  There is no way this could have a good ending!

  “Who are you going to sell it to?”

  “My friend Tara’s Dad has a magazine and he told us he would buy our pictures.”

  “Where’s Tara?”

  With that question, Mary got a funny look on her face.

  “I don’t think I should tell you.”

  “I will find out and then what?”

  “She is hiding in your bedroom.”

  “We need to talk to Mum.”

  We stopped by my bedroom. Tara was huddled down beside my dresser. She told me she was hoping for a picture of my buns. Her Dad paid top dollar for buns.

  Sororicide was sounding better and better.

  This time Mum was frowning when she heard the story. Tara was taken home by our driver, rather than wait for hers. I doubted if we would see much of her in the future. Mary knew she was in hot water so sat there trying to look innocent and cute. There is no question about the cuteness. Innocence is another question.

  After some thought, Mum said, “I am going to check something out. In the meantime Mary, ask Denny if he will develop your film. If he wants to charge for it you will pay out of your allowance.”

  Denny was a sport and didn’t charge Mary. After my initial shock, I decided she hadn’t done anything wrong. Why shouldn’t she make some money off me, the papa rats eyes were. I loved the way she said that.

  Okay I love my sister. I will kill her some other day, that or push her into the swimming pool, whichever comes first.

  Later in the afternoon Mum summoned Mary and I for a meeting. With Mum was Susan Wallace. Susan gave me a nice hello and Mary a hug. She said to Mary, “I hear you want to be a papa rats eye.

  Mary cautiously answered, “Tara told me her father would pay for good pictures of Rick. The less clothes the better.”

  “How much honey?”

  “Fifty dollars for his buns, and less for anything else, no frontals cause he can’t print those.”

  “Mary after your mother called, I made some phone calls. Most of the tabloids would pay five hundred dollars for a picture of Rick’s buns.”

  Five hundred dollars! I wonder if I could take a picture using a mirror!

  “That rat,” Mary exclaimed.


  “That is how that industry works, you can never trust them. Now let’s talk about what you could do. I talked to one of the tabloid people that Rick leaks stories to. They would buy pictures from you, of Rick and any other star, and they would like you to write a little story along with it.”

  Mary had perked up when she heard about pictures being brought but looked downfallen when Susan finished.

  “What’s wrong Mary?”

  “I’ve just learned to print, I can’t write! Not only that, I can’t spell yet.”

  “Oh, that’s a problem. What if I helped you?”

  I looked over at Mum, from her expression I could see the fix was in. This had been the plan since we walked into the room.

  “Would you?”

  Mary was sharp enough she looked over to Mum to see how this would go.

  “I would be glad to, I will come up with the words and you can print them out, and they will never know the difference.”

  Mary suddenly looked canny.

  “How much would I get paid for this?”

  “One hundred dollars a story, but no pictures of buns, just swimming pool type stuff.”

  Thus a monster was born, well not really a monster, but I had to live with pictures being taken at unexpected times for the next several weeks. It tapered off as it became a chore for Mary, but she always got pictures. She liked the money so she never slacked off on her deadline.

  Mary was excused from the room and Mum and Susan filled me in on what was really going on.

  “We want to stick a thumb in Tara’s Dad’s eye by having someone else get pictures. At the same-time we get to write the story that will go with the picture, thus favorable publicity. There will be one story a month.”

  “Mary will not be named and the tabloid will call her an unnamed source. From her printing and the wording, it will be apparent that it is coming from inside the house from a child. It won’t take long for the world to figure out Mary is the mystery papa rats eye.”

  I think Mary had just renamed an entire industry.

  “We will not confirm or deny.”

  “Could I publicly muse if it is legal to shoot little sisters?”

  “No, but a threat to take your own collection of pictures to share with her first boyfriend might be appropriate.”

  “Works for me, Mum what about Mary having a hundred dollars a month? That seems like a lot for a girl her age.”

  “She will be saving sixty dollars a month; she will also lose her allowance since she has her own income now. Some of the savings will go toward taxes. That will still leave her with an allowance that is doubled.”

  I hadn’t thought of that. Twelve hundred dollars a year was a lot of money.

  Mum continued, “Then Denny will start charging her for developing her film. Hmm, I wonder if we could cut his allowance also.”

  What a mercenary Mum I had!

  She continued, “Now if we could only find work for Eddie, I could retire.”

  That confused me for a moment as she and Susan shared a laugh. Then I realized that Mum didn’t hold a job, at least any that she admitted to. Then I got the joke, there wasn’t really that much money involved. I had taken the joke seriously! Oops, glad I hadn’t said anything.

  My face must have given me away because Susan and Mum both looked at me and started laughing all over again. I did the intelligent teenage boy thing and stomped out of the room. For some reason this made them both laugh even harder. I thought about slamming the door, but I wouldn’t give them further reason to laugh at me.

  As I semi-stomped down the hall I had dark thoughts. No one understood me. I’ll show them I’ll run away, they will be sorry. I will join the merchant marine. Oh wait, I had already done that.

  That put me over the top. I started laughing at myself. I stopped in the hall way as I realized that this was one of those emotional swings we had been told about in health class several years ago.

  I went back to Mum and Susan.

  “Sorry for the childish response Ladies, what do I need to do for this project.”

  They both accepted my statement with no comment.

  Susan replied, “I will show you what we are having Mary write. I doubt if there will be a problem as it will be age appropriate. In fact, if it wasn’t from your sister and considered to be an inside joke it would be quite boring. She will probably write about how loud you snore and things like that.”

  “I snore?”

  “I have no idea Rick. That was just an example.”

  “I need to get my head examined. I’m not with it today. I’m going to do something useful like go for a run, it might clear my head.”

  That’s what I did, I don’t know if my head was clearer, but I was sure sweaty.

  Before I showered I called Emily to tell her I had a good time on our date the night before. I could tell from her reaction this was the right call. We chatted for a few minutes and agreed that we would go roller skating next Friday. She knew that I had a flight soon so didn’t try to extend the call. I then headed to the shower to get ready to go to New York.

  By the time, I cleaned up from my run it was time to head to the airport for my flight.

  A driver dropped me off at LAX with plenty of time for my flight. Well I thought it was plenty of time. A reservation had been made for me, but I had to pay for my ticket. The lines at TWA were long.

  It took forever for them to write out all the information needed on a ticket. It must have averaged five minutes a person, in the other lines, it was at least ten minutes in my line. By the time I had my ticket I had to rush to the gate.

  Even that took longer than I thought it would, every gate I passed had a crowd waiting to greet people from arriving flights.

  I finally got on board. They had already boarded most passengers so I couldn’t grab an aisle seat in first class. I sat next to some businessman in suit and tie that was engrossed in his work. He barely grunted when I asked him to stand so I could take my seat by the window.

  I noticed a passenger I recognized. It was that guy I had seen from a party at Mr. Monroe’s house. Don someone who worked on Madison Avenue. I guess he is considered good looking. At least the stewardesses and the woman sitting next to him certainly acted like it.

  I had a book to read on the redeye flight, but had trouble getting into it. I blamed it on the smoke. It seemed every passenger smoked on that flight. Even the stewardesses and flight crew would sneak a smoke in their area. My clothes would reek of smoke when we got to New York.

  The guy next to me looked familiar but I wasn’t placing him. The coin dropped when the stewardess asked Mr. Garner for his autograph. I was sitting next to Bret Maverick! After he signed her autograph he turned to me.

  “Could I have your autograph Sir Richard,” he asked.

  Here I was trying to work up the nerve to ask for his. So we exchanged signings. He took notes to have pictures sent to my brothers and sister, since we all are fans of the show. We talked idly for a few minutes, mostly about what jobs we had upcoming. He finally got a small grin, and asked me.

  “Would you be interested in doing a guest appearance?”

  I about fell over myself in replying, “Yes.”

  That would have been a good trick as I was sitting down.

  We exchanged business cards. Mine also had Mr. Baxter’s number on it so their producers could contact him if they were interested. After that Mr. Garner fell asleep for the rest of the flight.

  The flight ended like all flights do. I managed to doze most of the flight, but certainly didn’t feel rested. It seemed that every time I fell asleep a stewardess would ask if I wanted something. I finally got smart and asked for a blanket and pillow, so ended up sleeping for an hour.

  When I was half asleep the strangest things went through my mind. I remembered when I was about four years old and was out playing in the snow. Mum had bundled me up in a snow suit. It was padded so much I could probably fall off a cliff and not get hurt.

>   I noticed the neighbors had not collected their milk yet. The glass bottles were sitting in the delivery rack. The cream had risen to the top of the milk as normal. The cream then froze expanding out of the bottle. The paper lid couldn’t hold it in. I knew cream was good so I was lifting the cap off and eating the cream.

  About that time, Dad came out and caught me red-handed or creamed cheek. He picked me up and was smacking my bottom all the way home. I remember screaming and crying but with that snow suit I probably didn’t feel a thing. Dad told Mum and got a quarter from her to pay the neighbor for the two quarts of milk I had messed up.

  That thought for some reason made me remember the red and blue cards Mum would set out to tell the iceman if we wanted a twenty-five-pound or fifty-pound block.

  That winter really stuck in my mind. The snow was up to my shoulders. Of course, I wasn’t three feet tall at the time. It seems like the deepest in the world to me. It got so cold that Dad had to bring in the battery from the car so he could start it if he was called for the extra board.

  I finally dozed off to sleep and had to think where I was when I woke up. It was just in time for breakfast.

  Chapter 23

  We had eggs benedict; bacon, orange juice and coffee which made me feel better. I had passed on the small dinner earlier, it was a filet and sides, but I wasn’t hungry then.

  As we were getting ready to leave the plane I noticed the woman sitting next to that advertising guy give him her card, so I guessed he had a good flight.

  There was a driver waiting for me at the luggage area, he had a card with my name on it. I only had a small carry on with one change of clothes and a shaving kit, but he insisted on carrying it for me. It was seven o’clock in the morning and they wouldn’t be taping the show until eleven o’clock so he took me to a room at The Plaza.

  I took a shower and changed clothes. I had worn a sport coat with no tie for the flight. For the interview, I wore a suit and tie. I was glad to see they had one of my shower heads in use.