Looks like she forgot to spin around three times.
“How’s that for celebrity, Nate!” Tom yelled, pointing to a headshot of the midget on the wall with her name on it: Sweet ’N Low. He had to yell because the music was so loud—“I Know What Boys Like,” by The Waitresses.
“It’s messed up!” I yelled back, grinning ear to ear. Strangely, I was having a good time—in the least likely of places.
A mousy, peroxide blonde led us upstairs to a table someone had pushed close to another stage. Smiling, I said hello to a room with ten more people, all men, who had come for Nate’s party. I suppose the real Nate had known about all this, but it felt a little like watching a commercial where the announcer keeps chanting, “But wait, there’s more!”
There was more—thousands of dollars more. Tens of thousands, which Rob handed out in stacks to everyone.
When he handed me my stack, he said, “I’m just giving it back to the guy who gave it to me—here’s to a short marriage!”
Groans and laughter all around.
“He knows I’m kidding,” he said, pounding me on the back just this side of painfully.
There were strippers everywhere, hanging all over us—physically, not figuratively—each plying us with drinks. They all knew about the high rollers in town, so the drinks didn’t stop. Normally I don’t drink because I dislike the taste and hate feeling drunk. Something told me Nate didn’t either, or at least not very often, because the only drinks in his house were chocolate milk and soda. But somewhere between Nate’s kitchen and the entrance to the bar I decided to leave both Dan Jenkins and Nate Cantrell behind. Tonight I’d be channeling Kevin the junkie and Mike Nichols, the Howlers enforcer. When the first shots arrived, I held my nose like a girl and took three excruciating sips of something that could have been battery acid. God, it tasted awful.
A girl beside me crossed one long leg over her other leg and mine too and told me she was working her way through college. She was a strange creature, part silicone and part human, whose powers included flowery pheromones, glitter, and a modified private school uniform that suggested shockingly permissive parenting. I mean, she was popping out, you know? I did my best to pop it back in, much to everyone’s raucous amusement. That got me a lecture from the manager of the club. Rob pulled him aside in the middle of it and said something that could have been threatening and we didn’t have any trouble from him for the rest of the night.
I drank another shot—one-handed this time because the girl pressed on my other side was reading my palm.
“How did you learn to read palms?” I said to her.
She said something, and then had to say it again, louder, because of the music.
“My mother said I’m part gypsy!” Then she said she was working her way through college. She told me her name but had to say it louder because of the music—“Electra! What’s yours?”
I told her, and then had to say it louder because of the music—“Mike Nichols, but everyone here calls me Nate!”
“Why don’t they call you Mike?” she said, and right away I knew Electra wasn’t a real gypsy. Otherwise, she would have known.
“They don’t know about it,” I said. “It’s a secret. I only tell people I’ve just met.”
Electra told me I was on a mission fraught with danger, that evil forces surrounded me, trying to tempt me from my righteous path.
Evil forces. How cool.
“I’m Amber,” whispered a voice in my ear. Her hands snaked down over my chest, probing evilly.
Looking around, everyone had at least one girl hanging on them, even Nate’s gay friend. But only I had three of them.
“Jake the Ripper,” I said, and attempted a complicated handshake over the back of her right hand with my free left one. “So what’s your major?”
“I’m studying psychology.” Her whisper sounded almost painfully loud in my ear, which she turned into a kiss.
“You should become a psychologist,” I said.
“Oh my God—that’s my plan!”
I caught Tom’s eye from across the table, and he started rubbing his fingers together, pantomiming something.
It took me a moment, and then I said, “Oh!”
Untangling, I pulled out one of the stacks of hundreds Rob had given me and began stuffing each girl’s G-string the way some of the other guys were doing. Tom motioned, Slow down. I didn’t know if he meant the drinking or the tipping, so I took another drink to keep the tips-to-drinks ratio even.
Rob flashed me a thumbs up, and some of the other guys started laughing at me.
Gay Superman was looking at me with concern.
“…doesn’t drink,” I heard him say.
“…be fine,” Rob said, flashing me another thumbs up.
I was fine because I had all these friends and we were having fun.
“Everyone, hey, let’s play a game!” I shouted at one point.
From the corner of my eye I caught the naked girl on the stage shaking her head in disgust, but nobody was watching her anymore.
“What kind of game?” Kamalesh said, breaking off from an animated discussion with the skinny brunette on his lap.
“I call it: Let’s Pay Attention to Me.”
Everyone clapped and cheered, “Nate! Nate! Nate!”
Then someone said, “What are the rules?”
“The rules,” I said, “are simple. Ask me any question about history, art, music, science, geography or sports, and if I answer wrong I gotta do whatever you tell me to.”
Hoots and hollers from everywhere, making me feel like the cool guy and the class clown all at the same time. And since I’d never been either of those before, I ate it up.
“What’s the capital of Bavaria?” someone yelled.
“Munich!” I shouted back, then added, “and it’s the third largest city in Germany, the others being Hamburg and Berlin. That’s an easy one, gimme another.”
There were expressions of surprise on most of their faces. The strippers didn’t count, they were perpetually fascinated by every little thing someone did.
“…the circumference of the Earth?” someone else yelled.
“Latitudinal or longitudinal?” I said.
“Both!” the jilted stripper said, leaning against the pole on the stage, and everyone agreed with her.
“Easy,” I said. “North to south is 24,859.82 miles, or 40,0008 kilometers. East to west is 24,901.55 miles, or 40,075.16 kilometers.”
“He’s making it up,” Rob said, a fake smile plastered across his face.
“Nope,” Tom said, looking at a handheld device, “I looked it up—he’s right on the miles, I can’t find the kilometers, though.”
“How’d you know that?” someone said.
I tapped the side of my head.
“I’m a teacher, remember?”
“Yeah—a gym teacher,” Rob said, still wearing the same pasted-on smile.
“Next question!” I shouted, and a discussion began about what it should be. They were all determined to get me this time.
“I got one! I got one!” Gay Superman shouted, looking at his own handheld. “This one’s a film question: who was Katherine Hepburn’s love interest in the 1957 movie, Desk Set?”
“Gig Young,” I said, without hesitation, and downed another shot—my fourth, and it hardly burned at all this time.
Looking at me with an expression of wonder, he said, “What have you done with Nate?”
“Ask me in about two weeks!”
Laughing, pointing, pounding the table—they thought I was referring to married life with Erika.
The questions kept coming and I got them all right, much to everyone’s astonishment. Years ago, I began scanning encyclopedias, stacks of trivia cards, watching Jeopardy, and otherwise filling my head with useless knowledge. Then I’d go to Damon’s and beat the pants off diners in other restaurants playing trivia across the country. For a while it had been a fun way for me to connect to other people, however s
uperficially.
“Ok, I have a question,” the ear kisser said. She was a doll-like beauty with skin so soft it felt like powder. “If you get this one wrong you have to do whatever I tell you, right?”
“Uh huh,” I said, giggling.
“Ok then—what’s two plus two?”
She stared at me brazenly, sizing me up like she wanted me dead and mounted over a fireplace. It was awesome.
“Three?”
Grabbing me by my shirtfront, chest hairs and all, she tugged me forward and kissed me. It was a great kiss, and I knew right then that if I wanted to…Instead, I backed away from that one and just enjoyed the kiss, quietly hoping she didn’t have any recreational viruses.
She pulled away with an audible sucking sound and pointed to the now empty platform.
“Now get up there and give us a show, Professor Stud Muffin!”
Everyone started chanting, “Stud Muffin! Stud Muffin!”
The volume surprised me, and that’s when I noticed there were more people with us than when I arrived. At some point the crowd from the first floor had come up to join the fun—even Sweet ’N Low, standing on a table and chanting with them in her strange, magical, high-pitched voice.
I did my best. I’d seen Chippendales at one time or another over the years, on TV shows and commercials for light beer, so I knew some of the more popular moves. But just because I knew them, it didn’t mean I could execute them—especially in my condition. But I had an easy crowd, and they applauded heartily with every flex, hooted with laughter at each macho pose and screamed with delight when I began removing my clothing. Everyone but Rob. He’d been something of a pouty pants all through the trivia and he wasn’t even bothering with a fake smile anymore.
When I finally sat down, a lady working on her associate's degree fed me another shot with one hand and dug through my pocket with the other. After that, it would take a return to the Great Wherever to remember anything more from that night.
Chapter 28
The transition from sleeping to awake was a journey from disjunction to the creeping realization that I had a very, very bad day ahead of me. I smelled bad, but I couldn’t link the general feeling of nasty with the conclusion vomit breath. That would come later. Nor could I connect the experience screaming psychos breaking glass with the rays of light streaming through the blinds like lasers at a Rush concert.
Nate’s blinds. That was my first real thought, followed by, I’m in Nate’s bed.
“…oooouuuh.”
Which summed it all up nicely.
Things started coming quicker for me—the pulsating room, the excessive light and the growing sense I needed to—
Rushing to the bathroom, I completed that thought into the toilet bowl, heaving so hard my ribs hurt. Not long after, I heard commotion from the other room. I sat with my back against the wall, wiping tears from my face.
“Nate?” came a familiar, concerned, voice.
“Rob?” I said, knowing it wasn’t Rob but acting confused, squinting, and noting how it never ended. Weak and hung over and I could still manipulate people.
“No, it’s me, Tim,” Gay Superman said. “How you feeling?”
“Yeah…”
“Oh dear. You need more time or can you get up?”
“More time…”
I thought I heard a giggle.
“…funny.”
“I’m sorry,” Tim said. To his credit, he did sound sorry. “What got into you last night?”
“Jesus, this is horrible,” I said, ignoring that for now.
“You’re dehydrated, we need to get some fluids in you.”
“What time is it?”
“Eight thirty—you have time. I’ve been downstairs getting the dining room ready for the guests.”
It took me a moment to register that, and then I said, “Dude—that’s awesome. I was supposed to do that. How did you…”
“How did I what?”
“Nothing,” I said. “Just, thanks man.”
I almost said, How did you know we were having it in the dining room, but then realized the real Nate would have told people already. I also didn’t ask what the heck he was doing here or how I got home.
“Get yourself some water and a shower, and I’ll make you oatmeal—best thing for you.”
I nodded, then winced at the motion.
I felt better after my shower, but delicate as hell. Water helped, oatmeal helped, but moving my head and even small noises threatened to send me to my rightful place beside the toilet. Just then, I wished I’d wound up in the body of a fifty-year-old alcoholic—those guys are immune to hangovers.
Tim was great. He stayed quiet, plied me with water, aspirin and oatmeal and cleared everything from the dining room that didn’t belong. When the doorbell rang and some friends of his showed up to decorate, he let them in and supervised the work.
Sometime later, I called Sheila and told her the wedding “had moved to six.” When I’d first invited her, I took a gamble and said it would be at noon. If the change of plan bothered her, she didn’t let on. Nice of her, really, considering I put her whole day on hold for a wedding I didn’t care about.
A little while later, Erika called.
“Hi, Hun Bun.”
I tried for a jubilant tone of excited enthusiasm.
“What?”
“Are you ok?” Erika said. “You sound…”
“I’m fine. How are things?”
“Uh huh,” she said, sounding like she didn’t believe me. “Betsy and I will be over later to get ready. Is the room all set?”
“Yeah, it’s all set. Tim and some friends of his are in there decorating.”
“Ah…why doesn’t that surprise me,” she said.
“I’ll see you later then?” I said, not liking her attitude.
“Ok,” I said. Then I threw in, “Love you.”
“Love you too.”
When I hung up and turned around, I found Tim standing nearby, watching at me.
“So how’s Miss Piggy doing this morning?” he said.
I just looked at him, my mouth open, and then I barked a laugh that quickly turned into a groan.
Miss Piggy!
“Come again?” I said, struggling to intuit a Nate-like response.
“I still don’t know what you see in her,” Tim said. “She’s pretty on the surface, but there isn’t much more than that as far as I can tell. It’s not too late to back out of this. We could fly out of here right now, just lock it all up and spend a week at Disneyland. We could ride the Teacups and make them spin real fast—you know how you used to love that.”
I shrugged. It sounded fun, but then I’d be responsible for ruining Nate and Erika’s relationship. I suspected I’d earn a cosmic ton of trouble for a stunt like that.
“You can afford the child support easy, little brother—even if she is pregnant.”
Little brother? I thought. No wonder he knows Nate so well.
My normal response to a grilling from someone is to say, “We’ve been through this,” but I wanted to hear more.
Instead, I said, “So…you think she might not be pregnant?”
“Nate, we’ve been through this,” Tim said. “I mean, sure, I’m not positive, but you guys did it like once, right? On that camping trip with your outdoor club?”
I nodded.
“It’s just, you know, funny,” he said. “You win the lottery, then two months later 60 Minutes does a story about the lives of winners—with you as the star, because you’re keeping your job and helping all those kids. Then, not a week later, there’s a new member of your hiking club with a supposedly broken tent, you guys get busy, and then she’s pregnant? Some people try for years and it never happens. Did you even…you know…inside?”
“Uh,” I said.
Tim waved it off.
“Scratch that—I definitely don’t want to know. It’s just fishy, that’s all—not her hoo-
ha, the story. I’m sure she smells just great.”
While I tried to work out whether to act indignant or not, Tim leaned over, gave me a hug, and then said, “I’m sorry. Forget I said anything. It might work out, who knows?”
He started to step away, then turned back and said, “Hey, listen, I know you feel like crap and all, but I have a question.”
“What’s that?”
“Last night, that trivia game you started. Look, you’re a smart guy and all, but…I mean, wow, if you didn’t win the lottery you could have won it on Jeopardy or something. When did you get so smart?”
I had to tread carefully. Whatever the Great Whomever was up to, I was beginning to think it was pretty cruel. Nate seemed ok—not a fiend, like every other ride up until now. And his brother was a real class act, but when all this ended they’d both have to live with my mistakes. Nate wouldn’t be the brilliant trivia guy anymore, but people would expect it because of my moment of weakness.
“Ah, that,” I said. “I’ve been studying. Reading trivia on the net, trying to improve myself. There’s a lot of different websites you can go to. It’s nice of you to say I’m smart but I’ve never felt that way.”
“Come on, Nate, you seem different,” Tim said, looking at me steadily, trying to read me.
“I am different. I’m getting married, everything’s changed.”
He looked away.
“I better get back to the decorations.”
I understood his confusion, having seen it on faces of countless others over the years. His eyes couldn’t see what his mind now screamed at him: this one isn’t your brother, he’s an impostor.
“Thanks Tim. For everything.”
“You usually call me Big Bro,” he said, then left the kitchen.
I spent the rest of the day sleeping and trying to recover from my hangover. Tim woke me when the guests began to arrive. I ended up taking another shower, which seemed to help.
Sometime after four, people started trickling in. So far, they were all Nate’s friends. I was able to figure out who some of them were by watching and listening: fellow teachers from the elementary school and their families, some parents he’d gotten to be friends with, and a group from Nate’s hiking club, many of whom comprised the strange cast from my night at Hardlickers, not a few of them looking worse for wear. I also got the sense that none of them were Erika’s friends.