Serial Reading: "Just Like Suicide" pt.1

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[cont.]
“Oh, here, let me pull out this chair. You need to sit. Do you have a designated driver or a date? No? Yes? I don’t understand you. You are mumbling. Swallowing might help. Here. Let me get you some water. Dennis and I are going to drive you home. You’re too talented to become road kill on Mulholland Drive. I won’t take no for an answer, young man.” She shoved his Scotch out of his reach.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Dennis joined them, hooking his arm around her. “Hey, you,” he told her, his bright smile at full wattage, always a sure fire sign that he hated being there. “I thought you might need a rescue for a second there.”
“Tommy was here to protect me. Dennis, this is Tommy. He’s a painter.”
“Of course he is. Good to meet you, son.”
Tommy burped.
“Tommy indulged himself at the free bar too freely this evening.”
“Not as badly as some of the other guys here. There’s nothing like being surrounded by perfect young male bodies to drive us middle aged men to heavy drink. Here, son, help yourself to some of these biscuit things. Waiter, can you bring us some coffee? Thank you.” Turning back to Tommy, “Have you been to one of these parties before?”
Tommy shook his head no. “This is my first and last. Damned monkey suit is uncomfortable.”
Dennis laughed in agreement. “At least we aren’t spray painted blue, wearing skimpy loin cloths.”
“Tragedy it’s only guys working tonight and no blue babes.”
Dennis shook his head. “You know, that amount of pigmentation on skin can’t be safe.” Dennis sipped his fizzy water, staring at every one of the blue waiters scooting by. “Is it simply me getting old or do some of these guys look seriously under-aged? They have absolutely no hair on their bodies.”
“They have that weird thing on their backs so the theme doesn’t seem to be about Krishna or Vishnu or the Druids. I must be missing the reference.”
“Maybe they’re supposed to be sea creatures?”
“‘Forests at the bottom of the sea’? No,” said Tommy. “Nothing so poetic. They’re take-offs on that movie with all the 3-D stuff. It’s gonna get released in a few months. The first trailer just came out on the internet.”
“Oh, you’re right. I have heard about it. An alien disaster movie, isn’t it? Is the director here or something?”
“Sugar, you know he’s somewhere here in the back, probably with the producers and most of the actors,” she said patting her husband’s arm. “Rina always gears the parties to her biggest guests. It’s what she’s famous for. It helps Roger get those high profile clients.”
“That explains why all the waiters look so sharp. This is as much an audition for them as it is a party gig. Speaking of Roger, have you had a chance to talk with him? No? Me neither. But he’s putting on quite a spectacle himself. He can’t keep his hands off that redhead who’s his assistant. Oh my god, look at that waiter. He can’t be older than twelve. Can twelve year olds serve alcoholic beverages nearly naked? Is it legal?” He popped yet another antacid into his mouth.
Tommy suddenly perked up. “That’s perfect. Call the cops for a battle of the blues. Little boys blue and men in blue beating each other black and blue. Oh blue, blue, and blue, blue, blue, I got the blues before sunrise, tears standing in my eyes. Yeah, baby.” He laughed and his eyes suddenly looked sober. “So let me earn my keep. Stand back, folks, and give me some room. I want to dedicate this ditty to Eric Clapton and Papa Smurf.” He closed his eyes and started belting out a song, head tilted back. His voice wasn’t half bad but she’d never seen anyone play air guitar to the blues before.
“I got the blues before sunrise, all you feed me is standard lies. I got the blues before sunrise, all you feed me is puny pies. I used to love you, darling, til I was covered in itching hives.
“I have to leave you baby, these falling walls in Hollywood malls. I gotta leave you baby, these falling walls in cold grey halls. I’m gonna pack up and leave you, darling, block all your whining calls.
“I have to leave you baby, your little waist and Louboutin heels. I have to leave you baby, your arugula and sautéed eels. I’m gonna pack up and leave you, darling, so you’ll feel just what I feel.
“Well now goodbye baby, don’t wanna pay no stinkin’ dues. Well, goodbye baby, see what it feels to lose, ‘cause I’m tired of pain, little baby, gonna trade these blues for dancing shoes.”
The crowd, leaning forward with phones videoing every nanosecond, applauded with more than politeness at Tommy’s improvisation. He in turn bowed so deeply he could kiss his knees, daring his tight pants to split open. The woman in the audience with the tiny waist and Louboutin heels came over and gave him a bit more than a chaste kiss. This performance certainly confirmed all the stories she’d heard about Tommy being a clever goofball when inebriated. He had been arrested last month after bar hopping for trying to use a string of lights stretched across Chung King Road in Chinatown as a tightrope. Another artist had videoed it and put it up on YouTube. The last she looked, it had over forty thousand hits. These videos certainly would rev up that reputation.
Dennis pulled out his buzzing phone and whispered to her, “Sweet pea, I’m sorry to be a killjoy but I’ve got to check on a patient tonight. If you need to stay, would you mind calling a cab?”
“No, I was fixing to suggest that we go anyway. I’m done mingling and even these little bitty heels are really really not designed for standing on cement for hours. But would you mind very much if we dropped Tommy off at his place in north Hollywood? It’s pretty much on the way.”
“Would it be ok with you if I called a cab for him and paid for it?”
“Oh, sugar, he’s an artist. If you leave him cash to cover it, you know he’s not going to spend it on the cab and I really don’t want him driving. Don’t you think the best plan is for me to take him home in his car and you can follow us? I promise I’m not over the limit.” Parties routinely imperiled drivers’ licenses. One of her best friends actually met the man she married at a DUI class in Hollywood, courtesy of a Sunday afternoon potluck and its keg of pale ale.
“You’re probably right. I’ll find out what he drove over. Please don’t keep us waiting. I do need to check on the patient sooner rather than later.”
”You are a dear, dear man. Let me just go over and thank Rina. It’ll be one little minute and I’ll join you before the valet can bring y’all both cars.”

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