The Love Machine

by Nicholas Bruner

  “We’ll see about that real soon,” Corn said.

  “Hey, if you’re hanging out with this girl, you’re gonna miss band practice again tonight,” Grunt said. He brushed powdered sugar from his chest. “Where were you last night, anyway?”

  “Mackin’ on a chick, alright?” Corn said. “She was playing hard to get. I didn’t even notice the time.”

  “Yeah, okay,” Grunt said. “But see me and Barrow got the new song all worked out, only we still need you on the bottom end.”

  “If this machine works like Alva say it will, I’ll bring Tina by tonight,” Corn said. “Problem solved.”

  “Cool,” Grunt said. “Everybody ready for another spin?”

  Barrow sat back in the seat and covered his eyes as Grunt jammed the pedal.

  Thursday, 8:28 a.m.

  “Alcie, there you are,” Tina said, waving at her friend on the Junior/Senior Patio in front of school. “Where have you been? You’re almost late.”

  “Long line at the coffee shop this morning.” Alcie took a sip from a cardboard cup.

  “Ugh, more of that black tar?”

  “That’s how I like it. Sugar and cream are for the weak.”

  Tina wrinkled her nose. “Gross, I don’t know how you can even drink that.”

  “I need it to stay alive,” Alcie said.

  “You just think you do!” Tina laughed. “Try skipping it one day and see how it goes.”

  “Nope, can’t do it,” Alcie said. “I know what would happen. Halfway through first period and I’d be falling apart. Anyway, what makes you so chipper this morning?”

  “I don’t know. We’re working on a new song in first period choir, and that always puts me in a good mood for the whole day.”

  “Yeah, well, I have a big physics test first period. Stayed up ’til three last night studying for it. This cup of coffee is the only thing keeping my brain functioning.” Alcie took a long sip. “So you can stuff your ray of sunshine up your ass.”

  “Oh, poor Alcie’s a grumposaur today,” Tina said, giving Alcie a condescending pat on the head. “But it is weird. I feel like nothing could go wrong today. Like I am totally in control of my destiny.”

  Alcie shook Tina’s hand off and gave her a resentful look. “Check your horoscope, Pollyanna. I bet it says a piano’s going to fall on your head.”

  Thursday, 8:29 a.m.

  The bell hadn’t yet rung in the choir room and Corn and Barrow stood in the corner conspiring as the other students filed in the room.

  “Okay, so all we’ve got to do is hold the machine by the back of Tina’s head for sixty seconds.” Barrow put his hand to his forehead. “Yeah, that should be easy. Won’t look weird at all.”

  “See, I been thinking about that,” Corn said. “I figure, we stand behind the girls when we’re singing, right? So I can hold the machine there and she won’t even notice.”

  “Maybe,” Barrow said. “What if we just hold the backpack up? Push the button while it’s inside?”

  “Now you know that won’t work,” Corn said. “If it was that easy, my man would’ve told us.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right. We’ll just have to do it the hard way.”

  The bell rang.

  Thursday, 8:35 a.m.

  Grunt sat in his seat, eyeing the girl in the row across from him. The teacher was droning on about simultaneous equations or some shit. Grunt didn’t hear a word.

  Kyna, Grunt thought. God, she’s beautiful. Red hair down to her shoulders, skin so pale you could see the blue veins underneath. So delicate. Like one of the flowers his grandmother grew in the backyard. She sensed his eyes on her and looked back at him.

  His first inclination was to turn away. It’s what he did every time she caught him gazing at her. But he stopped himself. Not this time. He was going to have the Love Machine soon. Nothing to worry about. Instead, he smiled at her.

  She smiled back. And it was radiant.

  Thursday, 8:52 a.m.

  The choir stood on the risers as Mrs. Collier conducted their performance. Corn, in the last row on the risers next to Barrow, carefully lifted the Love Machine out of the backpack. He glanced at Tina, standing on the riser in front of them. Good Lord, that booty! If he moved his knee forward half an inch he could touch it, feel that smooth half-moon curve, so firm in those tight Guess jeans.

  “Let’s take it from the top, one more time,” Mrs. Collier said. “Sing out this time. No distractions. Keep your arms at your sides.”

  Perfect, Corn thought. Two minutes and nobody allowed to move.

  The class sang, at first in unison:

  You made me love you

  I didn’t wanna do it

  I didn’t wanna do it

  You made me want you

  And all the time you knew it

  I guess you always knew it

  Corn positioned the Love Machine and pushed the button, noting the time of the second hand on the wall clock. The machine started to hum and glow.

  A tenor next to Barrow leaned over to get a look. “What is that thing?” he whispered.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Barrow murmured back. “Sing your damn part.”

  Now the different voices started to move against each other, basses rising as tenors fell, altos shimmering at the top of the range:

  You made me cry

  I didn’t want to tell you

  I didn’t want to tell you

  I want some love, that’s true

  Yes, I do, ‘deed I do

  You know I do

  Tina’s face took on an odd expression and she glanced back, but she didn’t dare turn around in the middle of the song. Her clenching fists suggested she was going to thrash him as soon as the song was over. If this doesn’t week, she’s definitely going to kill me, Corn thought.

  A couple other guys on the top riser had noticed by now and were craning their necks, while the girls on the second riser were trying to see without moving their heads. Twenty more seconds. Corn watched the ticking of the second hand on the wall. Fifteen seconds. Almost there.

  Mrs. Collier stopped the song with a cutting jerk of her hand. “Cornelius Cobb, what in God’s name are you doing back there?”

  Corn dropped the Love Machine into his backpack. Not quite sixty seconds, but it would have to do. Tina shrieked and whirled around, hand raised as if to smack him. But she caught sight of his face and stopped short.

  Thursday, 8:53 a.m.

  Alva gnawed on the eraser of his pencil as he puzzled through the physics problem. He felt somebody staring at him and swiveled his head. Alcie, two rows over and one desk back, snapped her head back to her test.

  That’s the second time I’ve caught her looking at me today. He gave her a little wave.

  “Keep your eyes on your own test, please,” Mr. Schumacher intoned from where he sat grading papers.

  I wonder if she still thinks about me? About us? Alva returned his attention to his paper. No way. We’re through. She couldn’t have been clearer about that. Just keep your mind on the test.

  Thursday, 8:54 a.m.

  Tina stood transfixed. That hi-top fade. Those mischievous eyes. That deep brown skin with a hint of red in it…. Tina had never noticed all that before. How could she have missed it? This handsome hunk of man, so near her all this time. How could she have been so blind?

  “Corn?” Tina said softly, uncertainly, her fist relaxing and her raised hand falling to her side. He grinned and her whole body tingled.

  “Mr. Cobb?” Mrs. Collier said. “Ms. Barnett, could you turn and face me, please? I swear, what is wrong with everybody today?”

  But Tina didn’t even hear her, fascinated by this incredible man standing before her.

  Chapter Four

  Thursday, 7:22 p.m.

  Corn and Tina strolled into Grunt’s garage with their hands in each other’s back pockets. Corn wore blue jeans with ripped knees and Tina a pair of hot pink short-shorts that accentuated her rear end. The music
stopped and Tina gazed up at Corn with a rapturous look.

  “Late enough,” Grunt said from his seat behind the drum kit.

  “Hey, I’m here, ain’t I?” Corn said. He detached Tina’s arm and whispered something in her ear. She took a seat in a folding chair. Corn picked up a bass from its stand and glanced over at the keyboard station while he plugged it in. “Wow, even Alva’s here tonight!”

  Alva waved from behind a stack of Yamaha keyboards, electronic pedals, music stands, and equipment cases.

  “Yeah, it’s a full house,” Barrow said, adjusting a tuning peg on his guitar. “Listen to this song we worked up. Start us off, Grunt.”

  Grunt counted off and they launched into the funk song they’d been working on the day before. Corn nodded for a few beats and started popping a funky pattern, playing low and heavy on the beat and working in higher-pitched flourishes on the off-beat. Alva added in keyboard washes over the top.

  When they finished, Tina stood up from the chair, clapping. “That sounded really good, y’all! What’s the name of it?”

  “We don’t know yet,” Barrow said.

  Alva called out, “Hey, you’re in choir, right, Tina?”

  “Yes, I’m in there with this big hunk of man,” she said, putting a hand around Corn’s bicep and squeezing while he flexed.

  He smirked. “You got that right, baby.”

  “Oh, gross,” Barrow said, miming sticking his finger down his throat.

  “All right, break it up, you lovebirds,” Alva said, coming out from behind the keyboards. He fumbled around in a tangle of cords in a corner. “Barrow, sing me those lyrics you were talking about earlier.”

  “Whipped cream, rub it on your body,” Barrow sang. “Whipped cream, enough for every body.”

  “Umm, right,” Alva said, pulling a microphone out from the tangle. “Do you have that written down somewhere?”

  “Nah,” Barrow said. “I just kinda ad-libbed it.”

  Alva handed the microphone to Tina and plugged it into a free amp. “Do you think you can sing that while we play? Maybe add in some other words too, if you think of something?”

  “I’ll give it a try,” Tina said, taking the microphone. She and Corn let their fingers slide slowly apart.

  “Okay, let’s get another count,” Alva said.

  Grunt counted off again and they started, this time with Corn playing from the beginning.

  “Whipped cream, whipped cream.” Tina was hesitant, but Corn smiled at her and she seemed to gain confidence.

  “Whipped cream, mmm, rub it on your body.” She kept her eyes on Corn while she sang, giving the words a breathy, sultry sound. “Whipped cream, mmm, enough for every body. So sweet, so creamy, rub it on a man who is dreamy.”

  Corn’s eyebrows rose and sweat formed on his temple. The others glanced at each other but continued playing.

  “Mmhh, use your tongue, oh, don’t stop ’til we’re done. The whipped cream, don’t you waste it, nnnh, whipped cream, can you taste it?”

  Now Tina glided over to Corn with hips swinging. She ran a finger down the neck of his bass while she sang. “Whipped cream, ooh. Creamy, mmm.”

  She continued oohing and moaning while her finger left the neck of the bass and traveled up Corn’s arm, across his chin, down his shirt and chest.

  The bass stopped abruptly. “Excuse me fellas,” he said, hurriedly switching off the amp. “I’ll see y’all tomorrow.”

  He and Tina left intertwined like vines, Corn giving a wink on their way out the door.

  “Good practice, though,” Grunt yelled after them, putting down his sticks.

  Thursday, 9:35 p.m.

  At the stop sign Grunt pushed the accelerator to the floor, squealing the tires and sending the car rocketing down the residential street. He checked the rearview mirror. “Hell yeah, we laid rubber that time!”

  “Could you, like, slow it down about eighty miles an hour?” Barrow asked from where he was flattened against the back seat, his long hair flying straight behind him, hands clutched white around his guitar case. “We have time. It’s not past my curfew or anything.”

  Alva, in the passenger seat, stuck his hand out the window and let it surf through the wind. “You know, Tina held herself pretty well for her first time singing with us.”

  “She’s real talented too,” Barrow shouted. “Top girl in choir.” He stuck his head forward. “Can y’all even hear me over this wind noise?”

  “Yeah, we can hear,” Alva said. “And Corn’s not wrong about her, um…booty, either. I mean, it’s big, but I think it’s starting to grow on me.”

  Grunt drummed his fingers on his steering wheel in time to the music. “Yeah, it’s probably growing all the time.”

  “Maybe we should invite her back,” Alva said.

  “No way,” Grunt said. “We won’t get any practice in. They’ll just make out the whole time.”

  Alva stroked his chin. “Still, it worked out pretty well tonight.”

  Grunt hit the brakes at the stop sign outside the condo complex, bringing the Nissan to a lurching halt.

  “You know I only live three buildings down,” Barrow said. “You don’t have to—”

  They shot forward as Grunt smashed his foot to the floor and jerked again as he almost immediately switched to the brake pedal, simultaneously careening the steering wheel to the left. The car came to a smoking stop at the foot of the walkway leading up to the condo building. “All right, a complete three-sixty!”

  Alva opened the door and stepped out, flipping the seat forward for Barrow. Barrow gave Grunt the finger as he exited.

  “You know you love it,” Grunt said.

  “If my parents were looking out the window, they’re never going to let me drive with you again,” Barrow said.

  “I guess your ass will have to walk to school then!” Grunt said as Alva climbed back in.

  The car took off with a roar of the motor, leaving Barrow shaking his head on the way up his driveway, guitar case in hand.

  Thursday, 10:15 p.m.

  Alva looked up from his workbench at the sound of somebody bounding down the stairs. Corn jumped to the floor, pulled the Love Machine out of his backpack, and dropped it to the ground with a loud thunk.

  “Dude, that’s fragile! Do you mind?” Alva glanced at the clock on the wall. “And anyway, shouldn’t you be with Tina?”

  “Screw you, Alva,” Corn said.

  “What?”

  Corn punched a wall, leaving an indentation of his fist in the drywall. “I mean it, Alva. Screw. You.”

  Chapter Five

  Thursday, 10:16 p.m.

  “I take it something’s wrong?” Alva said.

  “You’re damn right, something’s wrong,” Corn said. “Your damn machine is a goddamn lie, that’s what’s wrong!”

  “How’s that? Tina was all over you earlier this evening.”

  “Yeah, sure, she’s all over me until it’s time to get some action. I took her to the movies, you know, the dollar theaters. Nothing But Trouble or some stupid movie. Didn’t matter, we weren’t gonna watch the show, if you know what I mean.”

  “Sounds like things were going well at that point,” Alva said. He had pulled out a pen and was writing in a black-covered composition notebook.

  “Oh, come on!” Corn said. “You’re taking notes?”

  “I can’t improve the Love Machine without knowing how it’s working in the field, can I?”

  Corn gave him an indignant glare.

  “Why don’t you just tell me what happened next?” Alva said.

  Corn sighed. “Okay. Well, we’re settled in our seats, I have my arm around her shoulders, and we’re kissing and making out, you know. And then I slip my hand down under the collar of her shirt, real smooth.”

  “And then what happened?”

  “And then, it’s like her eyes opened up real wide, and her whole body shuddered, and she looked at me with a look of…pure disgust. And she stood up and slapped the shit
out of me and walked out of the theater!”

  “I see. What time was this?”

  “Half an hour ago. About nine forty-five.”

  “And what time did you use the machine on her this morning?”

  “Eight fifty-two, I remember that. What difference does it make?”

  Alva rolled the pen between his thumb and forefinger while he mused. “I was wondering about that.”

  “What? Wondering about what?”

  “How long the effect would last. Obviously it’s not permanent. If you think about it, the Love Machine is only stimulating the amygdala and syncing the brain waves, it’s not rewiring the gray matter itself, so—”

  “So you gave me the machine without even warning me it would happen.” Corn became unhinged all over again. “Screw you, Alva! I mean it, screw you!”

  “Hey, you’re the one who took it before it was tested!” Alva said. “But you can try it again if you’d like. I need to make a few adjustments, and then you can have it ’til tomorrow.”

  Corn waved his hand and bounded up the stairs. “Forget it, Klugmann! Count me out of your new, improved Love Machine. I’ve had enough of your screwy inventions.” He stopped at the top of the stairs. “Oh, and one more thing!”

  “What’s that?” Alva called up.

  “Screwwwww you!” The door slammed behind him. From behind the door came Corn’s muffled voice. “Oh, sorry about the noise, Mrs. Klugmann.”

  Alva smiled and picked up the envelope with the personal ad in it. Sounded like the Love Machine was working fine to him. He licked a stamp and stuck it in. He’d drop it in the corner mailbox on the way to school so his mom wouldn’t see it in their mailbox at home.

  Friday, May 3rd, 11:41 a.m.

  Alcie leaned forward in her chair in the cafeteria and waved a french fry at the other girls as if calling a meeting to order. “I saw Jason Burman in the hall today and he had on these basketball shorts. I so want to massage that boy’s quads.”