Dear readers, all sexual events involve persons above the age of 20. A lot of the dialog is dialectic and its rendition is not necessarily grammatical but does honestly represent the way people talk and think these days.
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TWO BIRDS WITH ONE STONE
Best friend's girl grabs your cock? Waa-ta-do?
Can't believe it, did I say that. Can't believe, dam I can't believe what's happened. How did I get shoehorned into this? Am I responsible? I don't know? Is this nightmare my doing? I guess it is, I guess I am! I can't believe any of this. Maybe it's just a bad dream? Maybe in the morning it will all be over? But I don't think so.
I can't think, let me slow down, I have to catch my breath. Where is that Vodka bottle? Steady now. Don't drink too much. Ok, that's better. I'm stable. At least I think I am. So, ok, let me start at the beginning. I gotta talk this out. Yeah, the beginning, this all had a kinda' nice beginning, the beginning...
Don't ya know how things are sometimes so nice at the beginning, you'd never expect it to end like this. It's like taking home one of them beautiful groupies, fucking her and then waking up in the morning to find she's not at all as attractive as you thought when you were fucking her last night, in fact she is downright ugly and when she starts talking you realize she's a bitch and a basket case, and she already drunk half a bottle of your best whiskey before you woke up and she's gone through your stuff and she's wearing the sunglasses you mom sent you for christmas, and ya gotta get her out the door and out of your life, and she's yelling,
"Don't you dare push me you dickless fuck"...
But, ok, I'm getting ahead of myself.
Now I got my groove, yeah, let me lay it out for ya. It all started almost two years ago when Kenzo, a Japanese student moved into the apartment across the courtyard from me. I even helped him carry in his stuff up the wide stair case when he moved to our street up here on Franklin in Hollywood. Not that he had that much stuff but there was a steamer trunk that was delivered the next day and it took two of us to carry it up. I think he had all his electronic stuff in there cause it was heavy as hell.
Our's is an old building, only four stories. It's a walk-up, we've got no elevator. I was told It was a hotel back in the 1920s, lush Rocco design, curved white stucco walls at the entrance and an elaborate chandelier in the foyer, even fancy smaller lighting fixtures in each apartments. The original architect knew what he was doing. It's a classy place to bury your Hollywood dreams.
The building was sold and rehabbed ten years back but they kept it true to its origin. There is talk it is going to be a designated historic landmark. It's not cheap but I got in just after the rehab and since it's an old building it comes under rent control so they can't raise the rent more than 3% a year. It's a nice place to hang your hat, that is, if you wear one.
Kenzo liked to say his name was Pete, of course that wasn't really true. He'd adopted the name from Pete Rozelle, his idol. He told me his real name but I never get it right. Something like Kenzo Nakamura, I think he said his dad was a famous Japanese business man. Like a lot of Japanese he was always wearing a baseball cap, usually the Dodgers but sometime a Yankee cap. Sure I'm a baseball fan. Although the World Series seems to arrive all to soon these days.
Anyway, the two of us, we hit it off very quickly. After helping him lug his stuff upstairs we went over to my place, ordered takeout from the Japanese restaurant down the block and drank a few bottles of beer. I taught him a bunch of English swear words that they don't teach in school and he told me how to say, 'bugger' in Japanese which was 'baga,' strangely similar. Maybe the word 'snot' is the origin of all languages? 'Penis' was 'inki,' like Durante used to sing, 'inky dinky doo,' maybe he spoke Japanese? I forget the rest of these drunken party games we played translating stupid and dirty words and drinking beer. God, we laughed so I almost peed in my pants.
As for me, my name is Bobby Dalton, maybe you've heard of me? The guys in the music business call me 'Slim.' I used to play Bass guitar with the 'Tidewaters,' they listed me on the album cover as Guitar Slim, it was a vinyl but we had a CD version we'd sell at concerts. If you've seen the album, all 5 of us are butt naked holding a beer stein over our privates. I've got a bunch of brown wiry facial hair and I'm tall and lanky, does that ring a bell? The band had a brief run, a taste of fame but then the Hip Hop craze swept us off the stage. But I believe Rock and Roll is coming back.
Now days I'm working at the Guitar Store over on Sunset to make ends meet. Nights and in between I manage a band, five young guys from Indianapolis, they call themselves the 'Hobbits,' maybe you've seen them. It's heavy rock but with a melody. We got on Jimmy Kimmel's show once when Martha and the Dreamers were a no-show. We've got a pretty good bass player named Steamroller Woody, who can pop a bass line that would make Rick James pop a smile, provided he could sit up in his coffin. When Woody is too stoned to play, I'll sit in for a session.
Let me be clear, I don't do or procure drugs for the guys. But that hillbilly heroin, oxycontin, does fuck up a lot of bands. I hope that's not what Woody is doing cause if it is I may have to do more sitting in then managing. I've asked him but he denies it, but if a guy is hooked he's gonna lie.
Kenzo was a graduate student at UCLA, said he had business connections through his family. I don't know much about them but he let it slip that they were owners of one of the big electronic firms. He was never short of money. We spent a lot of time that summer before his school term started. I'm ashamed to say he picked up a lot of bar tabs but I tried to be a good friend to him.
Kenzo had no lack of confidence. As for the future, he was confident, "The sky's the limit" was one of his favorite expressions. I guess the whole family were go getters, must be in the blood. His brother came down once to visit and Kenzo brought him over so I could meet him. He was in med school in San Francisco and studying to be a cosmetic surgeon, and Jesus, here in Los Angeles, there is hardly a face that doesn't get a touch up or needs one, provided as Woody Guthrie sang, 'you've gotta have the do-re-mi.' Even a guy as beautiful as Jim Morrison had a nose job. No question about it, the path ahead for these guys was a rosy one. He had a determination I wish I had.
Sure I was determined, determined to keep a month ahead of the bill collectors. Until you make it big in the music business you gotta pay your dues, sometimes that's all you do and then you fade away like an old man's fart in the wind. But you gotta stay optimistic, my new band was great, reviews were good, and we were picking up some paying gigs which is rare in LA where most clubs want you to perform for free. Up until now, the futures looked bright, I guess like it did for 'The Doors' just before Jim choked on his own vomit or whatever it was that laid him low.
That summer Pete and I partied. We got blasted at Korean restaurants at 3 am in the morning in K-Town. In LA the last call is at 2 am, but in Korea town they are on Korean time. The doors are locked and the pour goes on all night. After we finished our meals and drinks, I'd go for my wallet and Kenzo would push me away and flip an Amex card to the waiter who disappeared.
Sure like any guys, we talked about sex. I tried to explain what goes on,
"Here in the Hollywood, just about anything sexual goes. There is no need to rush to get married, there is pussy all over the place and you can dip with or without a condom. Of course it's best to use one but sometimes the old pecker wants to feel something besides vinyl. Sure, once in a while the Chlamydia catches up to you, lots of girls carry it and don't even know it. But you will a few days later when pus starts leaking out of your cock. So you go to the Doc and a week later your cock stops dripping and you're ready to go again."
But I was probably preaching to the choir, Kenzo wasn't the type of guy who was into chasing pussy, you could tell right off the bat. He hardly made eye contact with the pros who hang around the Korean clubs to mooch free food and money out of the married men and no doubt quench a few of their wicked desires in the locked rooms that are always available.
There was only one time Pete got interested in a fem hanger-on at the Korean club. She was a rather diminutive gal. About 5'1'' and dressed in a flaming red skirt with red hair, obviously a wig or maybe the hair was dyed. She had a small boyish ass and just a suggestion of two tits, but real big eyes, red curly hair and a doll face. She looked too cute to be true. When she grabbed him by the arm he introduced himself as Kenzo and they chattered away in some language I didn't understand. He didn't waste a minute. He seemed entranced, that was the first time I ever saw him attracted to woman.
There was an upstairs spiral staircase in the club. I'd noticed Korean guys disappear up the stairs with a girl and I'd noticed they handed what must have been a rolled up bill to the waiter who opened the pass rope. Kenzo disappeared with her before the dinner set up; as the waiter was bringing out raw beef, shrimp, sweet potato pancakes and chunk chicken. The meats were brought to the table in white porcelain bowls and the iron grill was smoking with sesame oil. That was when I realized my buddy was missing as was the girl in the red dress-both gone.
I kept making small talk with the Philippine girl who had taken my arm when we entered the place. Her English was good and her eyes promised a good time. I nudged the waiter when he came close to prepare the dinner and asked, "Where's my friend?" The waiter pointed at the ceiling and in perfect English whispered, "I smell cock."
What the hell did that mean? My 'girlfriend" poked me,
