How about this: do you know that if you have a deep fear of your glass being empty, you’re suffering from a condition called cenosillicaphobia? Yep. Lots of folks have the condition; you are not alone. That’s why we’ve got to have plenty to drink for this little fiesta. I’m gonna get me a beer right now. One 12-ounce glass provides approximately 3% of the recommended daily amounts of vitamins B2, B6 and B9. A health drink. I read a lot, regular sponge when it comes to interesting facts.
Over here I have used this longboard and set up my tequila tasting table. What is better than beer and tequila? Nothing. Tonight I’m serving Casa Noble, Pura Sangre, Don Andres, Don Leoncio, Don Enrique, Don Tacho, Hacienda del Cristero. I’ve got this thing about trying new tequilas, the weirder the better, so people are always bringing me presents. It’s great way to get the party started, you know? I bought a couple of new ones myself: Caballo Negro and El Viejito—see cause I’m getting older. Viejito? It’s my birthday. Anyway, El Paso, Texas, 1873. That was the first time Tequila was enjoyed in this country. Thank you, El Paso. Thank you Mexico.
Yes, it was an epic day of surfing. This spot, Ellis’ beach, doesn’t get much better. There were several fights, at least two broken noses, and I managed to steer clear of all that turmoil probably because Miss Grumpy Pants never paddled out. I swear, that girl instigates more fights than anyone and it’s me and the boys who always have to finish what she starts. That’s just how it’s always been. But she took a pass today. It was perfect surf, I swear. This is what we live for and she took a nap? Weird. And when I checked just now, she said nothing was wrong, just tired but I’m telling you, she looked kinda green. I don’t like it. I’d like to know what the fuck is going on?
JANICE BANE STEPS OUT
JANICE TOLD FRANK THAT SHE WAS GOING TO A BIRTHDAY party for her yoga instructor. She invited him to come but warned that it would probably be mostly women and she doubted they’d be serving alcohol since Gaia didn’t drink. As predicted, he said that there was no way in hell he was going to a party with a bunch of “rat-fucking vegetarians”, that he’d rather chew off his left foot than be trapped talking to the brain-dead yoga morons she called friends, but he encouraged her to go and enjoy herself. She acted reluctant, said she hated to leave him alone with just the housekeeper, the nanny, the kids and the dogs but he insisted he’d be fine. There was some paperwork to take care of and he wasn’t feeling that hot, probably wouldn’t be very good company anyway. Truth was, he was never very good company anymore. In fact, he’d been pretty much intolerable for the last couple of months but of course Janice didn’t say a word. She kissed him on the cheek, told him not to wait up, hurried down to her Prius and sped off into the night.
It was a little crazy, agreeing to go to the party. Until this evening, she’d felt that she’d been pretty discreet about her thing with Pablo. They could have just continued meeting at his trailer once a week, having their long chats and conducting their transaction. That would have been the wise thing to do. But Janice was sick of being the safe and perfect little hausfrau: tired of her role as Frank’s adoring wife, the mother of three perfect children, organizer of dinner parties, play dates and successful charity events. She was weary of pretending she cared deeply about the new math program they were introducing at the elementary school or the proposal to add more stop signs within a half-mile of the school so that the children would be safer when the nannies walked them to and fro. She was bored to death by the unending debate over how many minutes a day a child should be allowed to sit in front of the TV and exactly what shows were or were not appropriate. Video games, junk food, cuss words, bedtimes, who cared? Not Janice, at least not tonight.
Pablo had invaded her world one morning on the beach while she was walking the dogs. He was running and came up behind her then fell in step as she threw the tennis ball.
“You have the most beautiful legs I’ve ever seen. Spectacular.” He gave a little wave, and then ran off.
The next morning Janice cancelled her Pilates lesson and took the dogs for a walk at the exact same time but no Pablo. For weeks she came down to the beach at 8:30, even when the tide was too high to really walk very far, but he was never there. She felt like a stalker, desperately searching for this man so that he might offer her another compliment, notice her. She knew it was pathetic but she didn’t care. She chose her outfits carefully, and wore things that would highlight her other assets. She wondered, had he liked her butt? Because really, her butt was one of her best features. And her arms. She’d had a sweatshirt on the morning he noticed her legs. Bet he’d like her arms. She was dutiful and showed up on time every morning wearing as few clothes as possible, her hair perfectly in place, make-up beautifully applied so she looked completely natural. For weeks she trolled for that cute stranger but he was never there and finally she gave up.
She was disgusted by her neediness, shocked that a simple compliment could make her so giddy, make her dream about a man whose name she didn’t even know. Was she really that lonely? Finally she had to face facts; his absence was an obvious reflection of his lack of interest. It was hopeless. A vague depression set in when she abandoned her search, one that necessitated an increased intake of marijuana. For a couple of weeks she kept herself so stoned that she dared not drive her car.
The next time she saw him, he was standing in front of the sample table at the super market trying all three kinds of the Hormel Little Sizzlers Pork Sausage. He told the woman he couldn’t decide between the “hot ‘n spicy” or the “maple”. He helped himself to bite after bite. The Hormel representative appeared to be annoyed as she loaded another tray into the mini-microwave.
Janice was a strict vegetarian but on that day she stepped right up and grabbed a toothpicked square of fatty pig sausage and popped it in her mouth. “Mmmmm.” It tasted fantastic, all salty and rich. How had she forgotten pork? “These are great.”
It all happened very fast from there. Janice and Pablo just happened to walk out to their cars at the same time. They got to talking in the parking lot and found they had a lot in common. They were both big readers and had a particular passion for T.C. Boyle novels. That led to a discussion of Drop City, one of Pablo’s all time favorites, which of course led to drugs and finally ended on pot. And it turned out that Pablo just so happened to have some free samples in his camper, which Janice greatly appreciated.
She carefully maneuvered the car down her long driveway. The vineyard was doing well and Frank was very excited about this year’s chardonnay. He’d hired a well-known artist in New York to do the label and was planning to give cases of it as gifts at Christmas. Frank owned several ridiculously over-priced paintings by this artist, dark things with crooked lines in thick ugly colors. Janice hated the paintings; the label was hideous—Frank loved it. More and more she was embarrassed by the gross consumption that the vineyard represented, how it occupied so much of the earth and sky. Why should one family take up so much damn space? You could spot their place from the beach, in fact, from miles around, as it sat on the highest part of the mountains. Their 10,000-square-foot house floated above the acres of stripped-down hillsides. Row after row of manipulated plants, roped and tied into conformity. The green of their leaves read as etched lines into the brown earth and formed visual waves that lapped at the over-sized lawn and pool area. Frank’s floating island in the sky.
Janice got to the bottom of the driveway and waited for the automatic gate to swing open, then pulled out onto the street and hit the accelerator.
Lately she’d had been waking up with her hand in her pajama bottoms, cupping her mound like it was a precious, vulnerable creature, a small kitten or a baby African hedge-hog. She would pat herself reassuringly, comb her pubic hair with her fingers tips, give herself a little squeeze. It wasn’t sexual so much as comforting. She’d kind of forgotten that her pussy existed—at least in any important way—but that was all going to change.
FRANK AT HOME, ALONE
FRANK STOOD AT THE LIVI
NG ROOM WINDOW AND WATCHED the taillights as Janice drove out the front gate. The kids were off in the house somewhere, playing with the nanny, the baby fast asleep. He walked over to the bar, put more ice in the glass, poured himself another healthy slug of vodka, took a deep breath and blew it out. It was time to deal with Ellis.
Spanking Ellis had been a landmark moment. All that power she’d held over him, the chains that had enslaved him so ruthlessly for weeks, the torturous feelings of longing and sadness, vanished the third time his hand hit her ass and she started to cry. Suddenly they were just two vulnerable people standing in a room. Equals. They were both profoundly damaged in very different ways but for the first time no one was holding the reins. That brief moment, when Ellis dropped her guard and let Frank see how truly fragile she was underneath all that armor, changed their dynamic forever.
That day was probably the best sex of his life. All his suffering and anger—misery that she had caused—came out in the savage way he fucked her. He’d never been that way with a woman before, brutal, even a little mean. He’d hurt her. She’d asked him to stop at one point, but he didn’t. It was like he was giving her a taste of her own medicine by fucking her as hard as he could and making her cry out in pain.
After that, she was a different woman. To the outside world she still looked like tough little Ellis Gardner, isolated and untouchable. But with Frank she was suddenly available, willing to see him whenever he asked. She took his phone calls and seemed happy to see him whenever he dropped by. She even gave him a key to the gate. At first it was great, this is what he’d been after all along, wasn’t it? But as time went on, he realized that he was still angry about the way she’d treated him, furious in fact. That bitch had humiliated him and he wasn’t sure he could ever forgive her. What he needed was a break.
He walked over to the phone, humming “Under My Thumb.” It made him chuckle to think of her the last time they’d been together. He’d come by the house on the way home from playing golf. He didn’t have much time but she said she wanted to see him. Truth was, he hadn’t really felt like getting it on. He and Janice were having a big dinner party that night and he wanted to get home to make sure she had everything in order. But the minute he walked through the door Ellis had unzipped his pants, dropped to her knees and sucked him off. There simply wasn’t any time to object. She was so good at it, better than any woman he’d ever had. That was a very nice moment but then he told her he had to run and two minutes after he’d washed himself off at the sink and dried himself with the kitchen towel she started to complain about how little time he was spending with her. Yeah, he needed a break.
Frank sat down in the green leather chair and reached for the phone but hesitated. The other thing, and he knew this was shitty but he had to be honest, the other thing that was cooling the waters was the fact that she wasn’t looking quite so hot these days. She still had her beautiful face and that crazy hair that he loved so much but she’d gained some weight in the last few weeks, gone a little spongy on him. Part of the deal with Ellis was that fine body, that amazing ass. But she was getting a little fat. Things kept up at this rate, she’d just be another woman on her way to forty and that definitely was not a turn-on.
He took another long pull on his drink. It had been a wonderful adventure. The two of them had an amazing connection but those things just can’t last. It’s impossible. They’d burned too hot and too bright, that kind of passion is impossible to maintain. Time to let things go.
OF COURSE ELLIS KNOWS SHE’S PREGNANT
WHEN ELLIS WAS IN HIGH SCHOOL, BEFORE SHE’D REALIZED that her periods would always be late or irregular, there’d been a couple of times she worried she was pregnant. She’d agonize over the possibility. What would she do? Who could she talk to? Her father was out of the question. She was sure that he’d be furious and quick to blame. Accuse her of being a slut, use the pregnancy as evidence. No. One of the guys? They were kids and much as they liked to follow her around, they certainly didn’t have the tools or resources to help with a problem like this. No, Ellis realized that if she was pregnant, she was completely on her own. And so she developed a system of prayer and self-sacrifice to those twisted gods who pulled such mean pranks. She promised not to have sex again, not to smoke pot, or drink or indulge in any other vice if they would just let her not be pregnant. She swore she’d be nice to people, not shove kids off their boards in the water, and be polite to all of her teachers. And she offered up deep humiliation in exchange for her menstrual cycle. Every morning she would dress in tight white jeans, no underwear, and roam the halls of her school, waiting until the powers-that-be decided she’d suffered enough and blessed her with a surge of blood that would ruin those jeans forever. It was extremely embarrassing, and she’d had to pull that routine three times between sophomore and senior year. But it worked, humiliation instead of abortion. By the time she hit her twenties, she realized that she was consistently and hopelessly irregular. Because she hadn’t been knocked up yet, she assumed that she simply couldn’t conceive and kind of relaxed. But here she was. And what the fuck was she going to do about it? Just like in high school, there was no one she wanted to tell. She’d gladly put on her white jeans now, but they probably wouldn’t fit.
Pablo had the fire blazing down on the beach. Somebody was playing bongos, probably Kirby. Kirby had taken some kind of African drumming class at the junior college a couple years back and now spent a lot of his free time down on the boardwalk, banging away for spare change. He was actually pretty good and it had become a big part of his identity. When he wasn’t in the water, he was hanging out with his fellow tribesmen. He looked kind of funny with his bleached blond dreadlocks but hey, he was happy. Sounded like he brought along some friends tonight, the music was loud and getting louder. This was going to be a long night. Couldn’t she just close the blinds and pretend she wasn’t home? Nope. Any minute now Pablo would come looking for her. She needed to get her ass out of bed, dressed and down there before the party moved up onto her deck.
Whose baby was it? Impossible to say. She’d been sleeping with both Frank and Pablo around the time she conceived. Whose baby did she want it to be? No good answer to that question either. But one thing was sure, this was nobody’s business until she’d figured out her game plan.
She pulled on some pants, grabbed her jacket and a flashlight and headed for the beach. Just as she walking out the door the phone rang but at that exact same moment Pablo started calling her name from down on the sand. He was screaming at the top of his lungs. She had to get down there. The machine could take the call.
FELIX MADE SOME FRIENDS
FIRST FELIX MADE A DOG OUT OF BRANCHES AND LEAVES. There was a non-toxic vine that grew in the camp area, which was strong and sinewy. He used it to bind the limbs of the creature and secure the tail to the body. When he was finished, the dog was almost waist high and thickly built, like a fighting animal. A good companion, exactly what you’d look for in man’s best friend. It didn’t stand very well on its own so Felix suspended the creature from a branch up above and let it hang an inch or two above ground level. He called it Don Jefe.
Rigoberta came next. Felix envisioned her as a bear with sharp deadly fangs and claws that could rip a man in half. He spent an entire afternoon carving the teeth and claws out of the bleached white branches of the manzanita. Rigoberta stood on her hind legs with front paws raised for battle, one higher than the other. She was heavier than Don Jefe and had to be lashed to a tree trunk in order to maintain her up-right position. Rigoberta lived at the entrance to the camp.
He made a family of small cats and called them las sacapuntas after a little cat-shaped pencil sharpener he had as a boy. There were six kitties and he positioned them in the branches above the camp so they could take care of the aerial surveillance. He didn’t make any rats because he hated rats but he did make lots of birds, big pterodactyl-like birds that he hung from the highest branches. They would sway in the breeze and he’d pretend they we
re soaring through the heavens.
He stuck with creatures. The idea of making a person out of sticks somehow intensified the loneliness. It also seemed a little crazy and that was something Felix worried about. The long days and nights alone were taking a toll. He’d never been alone, even for one night. He was used to spending all his time working with his family and neighbors, sleeping in that tiny house surrounded by his brothers and sisters. He was talking to himself a lot, crying sometimes for no apparent reason.
Growing marijuana was an easy job. He was used to hauling water up steep hillsides back home but here all he had to worry about was regulating drip lines. The fertilizer was store-bought as were the pesticides, he just had to know when and how to use them. Felix had come up with his own potion to keep the deer away. He mixed raw eggs with water and a bladder-full of his morning urine then sprayed that on the crops. It worked remarkably well for deer and most of the other animals. He had rat-traps throughout the site and most mornings they were full. So the pest problem was under control.
The plants were doing well. They were about chest high and bushy. Hernando had explained how the bud was the valuable part and he’d been pleased with how these plants were developing. Hernando thought this would be the best crop so far and to reward Felix he’d enclosed some pornographic comic books with the most recent food drop. “Perversas”, “Erotika”, and “Suculentas Formas”. Hernando was quite pleased with his gift, said it would help Felix pass the time, and insisted that he take a look right away. They were just drawings, cartoons really, but the explicitness of the renderings was somehow even more pornographic than the real thing. Felix was deeply embarrassed and Hernando found that hilarious. When Hernando left, Felix threw the magazines in the trash pit.
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