A gaggle of white swans honked noisily in the pond, which was actually a plastic children's pool ringed by an assortment of foliage and rocks for an "authentic" look, though where in the wild swans swim in plastic Power Rangers pools I have no idea. Homely girls in horrid orange and white taffeta gowns that threatened to eat them were escorted around by pimply faced ushers in powder blue tuxedos. Brazen squirrels leaped onto serving trays, snatching bread and nuts, and spilling martinis and white whine spritzers. The bride and groom, both blanched and dull looking, were arguing with the caterer about the aesthetic difference between chocolate covered cherries and white chocolate covered cherries, and how he was ruining their special day, just ruining it!
I hate weddings.
The New Blue News was booked, last minute, to work the reception of an outdoor wedding in Jersey. The bride's parents had turned their backyard into a kitschy wedding theme park with biting swans, wilting floral arches, moldy red carpeting and white doves that escaped and flew away an hour before the ceremony.
We were stuck on a couple of shaky risers next to the tool shed, under a maple tree which dropped heavy, golden leaves on us all afternoon. We played lots of Sinatra, Big Band, and great but overdone stuff like "As Time Goes By". The things you do for money. Sheesh.
There were three young girls in particular who kept bugging me to do some rap numbers, and giggling and making faces every time I said, "Sorry we don't that." Actually, it got to be a fun, flirty kind of thing after a while. I've been onstage enough to know when young girls find me attractive, and these kids were definitely interested. But girls at that age don't hand you phone number, they bug you with dumb requests and make faces. So I started making faces back, and even promised them one rap number later if they got me a beer. Off they went to the bar and, with much furious pointing towards the stage, convinced the bartender that the drink was, indeed, for an adult. They returned with their prize like Dorothy and friends with the witches broom, demanding their reward. "Later." I said, grabbing the beer and launching into "Summer Wind".
"Awwwww." they groaned, making more faces.
One of the girls was named Mindy. She was the Bride's sister, a flower girl, who was allowed to wear a very pretty little shift, instead of the horrible taffeta, which was a good thing because she was a cute teeny thing, just eighteen, freshly scrubbed, with white teeth and shiny skin and braided hair surrounded with a laurel of flowers. She was very toasty to look at, and I needed some sort of diversion because the rest of the day pretty much sucked.
See, Julie and I were fighting.
It had been a week since making love at her place. Julie and Christie had talked things out (though I don't think she ever told Christie about hiding in the closet and watching her blow me to heaven), and I decided to pretty much avoid the flat altogether. So I gave Julie a key to my place and we spent the next several days there, eating meals together, doing crossword puzzles, and trying hard to have normal, private sex. She was good about making sure I "had my fun" in bed, but no way was I able to get her, in any way, "off". I was patient with her, but she wasn't as patient with herself, and cursed and screamed at her "Goddamn stupid body!" every day. I was beginning to think that she didn't see much of a future in our relationship.
And that was sad, because every day I grew more and more in love with her. Her music was complicated, marvelously mathematical and precise, but edgy and unpredictable at the same time, much like she was. I wrote lyrics to many of her old pieces, and it was the best stuff I'd ever done. I was in awe of her talent as a composer, and as a performer. Her voice and stage persona were electrifying. And beyond all that, she was a smart conversationalist, and could give an opinion on any subject. She was brash and shy, smart about the world and dumb about herself; she was a concert of contradictions. Pure jazz. My Jazzy Girl. And for four vibrant (though passionless) days we were inseparable.
Then Bonnie called.
Bonnie! Whom I had wildly fucked that first night I met Julie. Bonnie, who also craved public sex. Whose body was a river of erotic wetness. Funny, crazy, lovely Bonnie! I thought I'd never hear from her again. Not after what I did to her sweet little bottom, in her apartment, with her fiancé watching from the street below.
But there she was, on the other end of the phone, telling me that she wanted to meet me, Sunday night, on top the Empire State Building, at night. She wouldn't say what is was about, only that she wanted to see me. I remembered our conversation just a few weeks earlier when I told her I'd never been to the top and would love to see the view, late at night, but that I would only go if taken, for "an event" I think I said. What could she have in mind?
She wouldn't say. She just wanted me to come. And, like the idiot I was, I said, "Yes."
I had to tell Julie, I just did. I tried to play it all cool and natural, and convince her that nothing was going to happen, but Julie became unreasonable, and left the apartment, chucking my key at me. I hadn't told her everything about my relationship with Bonnie, but I knew she could tell that it was pretty hot and heavy going, and she was obviously jealous.
The sex thing was definitely hanging Julie up. I thought about exploring the exhibitionist side of Julie, like I had with Bonnie, but I still didn't understand the whole fetish, and hoped that she and I could work things out behind closed doors. But it wasn't working, and Julie was torturing herself, sure that she was some sort of freak. No wonder she blew up when I told her I wanted to see an old girlfriend.
She wouldn't talk to me, and we didn't even see each other again until jumping on the bus together to get to the wedding gig. We sat in separate seats and didn't say a word to each other all the way out Jersey.
After a flaccid first set we took a break, and I tried to talk to her. She stopped me and said, "Look, we know where this is going, so let's just let it go, okay?" and walked over to the bar with the rest of the band.
Well, damn it, I tried. What more was I supposed to do? Was I supposed to lose my mind like the Mad Cracker and start shooting fire-works all over the city just to prove the size of my affection?
Pissed now I grabbed a beer, walked the other way, across the yard, and disappeared into the garage which the family has converted into a playroom for their kids. The walls were painted red, blue and yellow. It had a large Sesame Street rug and hundreds of toys, board games, hula hoops, and bikes and shit thrown around. The place looked like Pee-Wee's Fun House. It set away from the house, in the back, and had an entry door and windows which looked out over the yard. I plopped into a big bean bag chair which crushed and sank as I sat, hefted my beer, and sulked.
Out the tiny window I could see Julie across the yard downing a glass of wine and throwing bread for the miserable swans. She looked pretty miserable herself.
I finished the beer and was about to go for another when I heard someone say, "Oooo! Sitting on duty! I'm telling!"
I turned around to see that my teenie groupies had followed me into the garage, including Mindy, the cutie, the flower girl with the floral laurel. "I'm telling!" she repeated.
"I'm on break." I said, "And yes, I'll a sing rap song for God's sake!"
"Ask him!" one girl giggled. They all shoved each other around, whispering, and sneaking little smiles at me. Finally, Mindy stepped forward and said, "You know that girl in your band with the big boobs?"
The other girls all giggled at the word "Boobs." "Mindy!" they chided.
"Yeah. What about her?" I asked.
"Okay," said Mindy, rolling her eyes, and chewing some gum, "Is she, like, your girlfriend?"
"Why?" I asked.
"Because," said one of the other girls laughing, "Mindy wants to go out with you!"
"Shut-up!" squealed Mindy, smacking her friends on the shoulder. "I'm serious!"
I looked out the window again. Julie was talking to one of the ushers, a tall, goofy-looking kid who'd had his eye on her all day.
"We're kind of broken up." I said. "So I'm free."
"Oooooo Mindy!" the girls teased.
"I am so going to kick your butts!" said Mindy, turning a bright red.
I stood up and walked over to them. They all retreated a bit. I was a good foot taller than they were. "Don't you think I'm too old for you all?" I said in my best adult voice.
"We're Seniors" said Mindy.
"Just." I said.
