It was a hot summer evening, and I was still working at the grocery store at the time. As a dairy clerk, my job mostly consisted of unpacking boxes. Plenty of boxes! Boxes of eggs, boxes of milk cartons, boxes of butter, boxes of yogurt, boxes of cheese, boxes of shredded cheese, boxes of cottage cheese, boxes of all kinds of cheese. It was unbearable. I used to sneak out during the day for a 45-minute break during most days. I’d go and flirt with the girls at the ice cream shop next to us or just get a nap on a bench nearby when my break was supposed to be only 15 minutes. I was extremely proud of my ways.
I finished around 10 pm as usual, and as I was passing by my supervisor Mike, he grabbed me by the shoulder, pointed me in the direction of that new cashier girl and whispered in my ear, in a horny teenage like voice: “Yo, Vick, did ya check her out?”
“Who? The fat Romanian chick?”
“Yeah, man. She’s got the biggest ass I’ve ever seen in my life.”
“That’s just wrong! Dude! What the…?” I looked away and started changing while Mike was gesturing around and showing me what he’ll do to the fat Romanian girl if he only got her.
Mike was bizarre and super racist. He was one of those people who liked to greet you with a racist joke and beg you to show your porn videos to his children, no matter if they are still in fourth grade. Mike was about 40 years old, lived most of his life in Washington D.C., in some terrible neighborhood where people were getting blasted every day for no reason. He finally found his peace and harmony when he moved with his kids and wife to Ocean City. A small and quiet town like this had not much to offer, but I could see his point of view. Mike was something else. We were working for this big chain of supermarkets and Mike, being the supervisor, was smoking inside the store, stealing from the groceries and always munching on something from the salad bar. He just didn’t care and most of these things he would even do in front of the customers. One day, there was this old lady at the store who, as soon as saw Mike, walked toward him and tried to chat him up. They argued for a little while, and she left. I had no idea what was going on, but I also didn’t care much to ask. Next day she showed up again and said that she had a son from him and even though she had no proof, she claimed he was Mike’s son and wanted child support. Mike couldn’t even remember the woman and his alleged son was already 17. A week later she filed a case against him. Some local juridical cable TV channel got the news about that and offered to fly Mike and that woman to LA. They were going to take care of the hotel rooms and the airline tickets as long as they were permitted to film everything and show it on TV. Mike agreed. “It’s like a little vacation,” I remember Mike bragging about it.
I had a second job at the time. It was printing t-shirts with funny decals on them for one local souvenir shop. The day, on which Mike was going to fly to California, I made him a unique shirt stating: I am not the father! And he wore it proudly on TV. Mike also had a second job as a bouncer, on Wednesday nights, at a club called Anglers’. Mike was the man, and he would always let all the girls in, no matter that most of them would end up being underage and not allowed to be in clubs or to drink in general.
I got on my bike, and 15 minutes later I was home. My 13 flatmates and I were happily living together in one massive house on Dorchester Street. We were four guys and ten girls. It was a mess. The house had four bedrooms, three of which with four bunk beds in each room and one of them with two, and all of us had the pleasure of sharing one single bathroom. There were some awkward moments, and it was a mission if you had to take a shit with all these people around you. The girls in the house were always fighting for stupid things like who stayed for how long in the bathroom and who didn’t clean all the hair from the bathtub, but I didn’t care.
When I got there my buddy, Stephen was already getting wasted on the porch with a bottle of vodka, and all the girls were getting ready for the night. Makeup, hair, dresses, perfumes, etc. I took a quick shower, changed and got out on the porch. We had a couple of drinks with Stephen while the girls finish getting ready and we headed to the club.
Anglers’ wasn’t your usual club to hang out. Being set on a deck on the shore, it consisted an open area, and a long bar, some space for dancing, few tables and that was it. It was always super crowded, especially on Wednesdays. Once we reached there, we knew what to do. Usually, two bouncers were checking the IDs outside. Once we got close, we split into two groups and the ones who had 21 years of age went through the bouncer we didn’t know while all the rest who were under age headed towards my buddy Mike. He pretended he was checking their IDs and everything was just fine. He let them all in one by one. Many of us were there that evening. There were me and Stephen, Sarah, Joanna, Maria, Leanne, Christine, Ann, Sarah’s boyfriend Erik and his pals Cameron, Bryce, Ben, and Ethan. I think only about five of us were over 21.
We all got in, and it was on. The music was excellent, and the long island ice tea was only three bucks the glass. 30 minutes and three long island ice teas were enough to get me going. I was just starting to get tipsy when I got a text from a girl I saw from time to time. She wanted me to come by her place and sent me kisses.
Her name was Sandra, and I was quite fond of her. She was not the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met but was quite exquisite. She had brown hair and eyes brown too, beautiful smile and a tiny nose that always wiggled when she smiled. Short with all the right features, her body always seemed very symmetric. She was my type of a girl - studying to be a director, reading and a big movie fan. The first time we met at a party, but we spent the entire night out on the balcony, talking about movies. Sandra was always a bit shy and had kind of conservative background. It was already a month since we started seeing each other and I still didn’t manage to get any. I didn’t want to push her too much either.
Even though I was already a bit tipsy, I wanted to see her. The thing is that in situations like this, you know you are a drunk, and you will be up to something no good. But you also feel invincible. All I wanted was to grab her ass and kiss her beautiful mouth, and I started getting fucking excited while thinking about it. I replied her, and the bartender brought me one more long island.
“Hey, man, I didn’t order that!”
“I did,” Ethan said from behind me. “What’s happening, brother? I am so fucking wasted! Love you brah! Thanks for getting me into this club man, it means a lot. I know I am only 17, but this is the best fucking party I’ve ever been to, dude!”
I have honestly no clue how many times this guy called me dude, man or bro. It was only the second time I met him. He was some friend of Sarah’s.
“At your cervix!”
“Yeh. Very funny. Listen, dude. Maybe, just maybe, it’s not a bad idea for you to stop mentioning your real age and stop fucking jumping like some drug-crazed maniac for Christ’s sake. You’re getting too much attention.”
“Calm the fuck down, dude!”
“You calm the fuck down!!! Because if you don’t know what will happen is, that most probably you won’t only be kicked out of the club, but you might also have to spend the night in jail. And not just that, you being underage means that your parents will have to come pick you up in the morning. Is this what you want?”
“Okay! Sorry, bro. Chill! When you put it this way, I see what you’re saying. It can get ugly.”
“It’s fine. You’ll learn. But be cool, okay? Are you gonna be cool now or you wanna get yourself arrested?”
“I’m gonna be cool. Ethan cool. That’s my name. If they ask me, my name is Cool. Ethan Cool!”
“Yeah, whatever,” I tapped his shoulder in a friendly patronizing manner and looked to the other side.
“HEY, BRUH,” Ethan shouted next to me, so I turned.
“Cheers!” He raised his glass. His eyes glistened, and his smile came back.
“Cheers,” he said again and gulped the whole glass down.
“Dumbass!” I mumbled under my nose.
“Shots,” Ethan shouted, as if in a moment of enlightenment.
“No, thanks. I am fine!”
“I am so happy, dude, let me do something for you, let me buy you one more drink for getting me in, dude. We don’t even know each other well, but I think you are a pretty good friend.”
This guy is so damn weird I thought when I remembered that he came on one of those small scooter bikes.
“You know, Ethan. There is something you can do for me.”
“Yeah, anything, dude!”
“I need to borrow your scooter for like a half an hour.”
“Sure, dude. No worries!” He smashed the keys on the bar and hugged me. He looked ogle at me, while still holding my shoulders with both his hands, as he wanted to kiss me or something and said: “Fuck some pussy, dude!”
“Sure,” I said, grabbed the keys and left. Damn teenagers. I wonder how the bartender was even giving him drinks. He had more pimples on the forehead than a fucking sixth-grader.
I found the scooter quickly at the parking lot outside the club and headed to 74th street where Sandra lived. I got there in about 20 minutes or so, knocked on the door and waited. When she opened, she looked more seductive than ever. I grabbed her, and we started making out, but I don’t know for what reason, quickly she pushed me away.
“WAIT A SECOND, you haven’t even said “hi” yet, and you start grabbing me,” she said indignantly at my approach.
“Well…hi baby. It’s been so long since I last saw your pretty little face. I miss you already!”
“It’s only been few days. If you really missed me that much, you could have called! And let me ask you something. How come every time I see you, you’re fucking drunk?
“I’m not drunk!”
“Yeah? But you sure stink of booze, and your mouth tastes like a dirty ashtray!”
“Well, I don’t really know how a clean ashtray tastes like, baby.”
“Don’t get smart with me!” Sandra said while strolling back to the living room and pointing the finger at me.
“I don’t know why you always have to care about shit like that! I AM FUCKING 22 YEARS OLD! I AM IN MY PRIME, BABY! I love partying, drinking, smoking, I love it all! I only wish you could come out with me more often!”
Our arguments were ridiculous. It was all about me drinking too much or partying too hard. Listening to Sandra, reminded me of my parents’ fights. The only one difference was, while my parents were trying to figure out how to stand one another after 20 years of marriage, we acted the same way and we’d only been seeing each other for a month. It was toxic.
She went to the couch and sat there sulking. She switched on the TV.
“There is beer in the fridge!”
“Do you want one too?” I asked somehow in fear.
They had Becks. I like German beer. I opened two bottles and sat next to her. Handed her one and clinked my bottle to hers.
“Cheers! Drunkard!” she said with a smile.
We both had a sip. I left the bottle on the table and leaned towards Sandra’s face. I kissed her on the mouth, and she didn’t oppose. I kissed her again, and again, and again. She had the sweetest lips, and I swear they tasted like cherry. We kissed passionately for a while. At one moment, I grabbed her hair from behind, pulled it back with one hand and sucked her ear. She moaned, and I knew she liked it. I ran my tongue inside her ear and through her neck. I was kissing and biting her and all of a sudden she pushed me back to the couch and jumped on top of me. Her long brown hair was fallen in front of me, covering her entire face. She snapped her neck, and her hair flew behind. I looked at her eyes. They were glistening, and she looked a bit mad. She grabbed my shirt and pulled it up. Then she started sucking on my nipples and biting them. It was fucking painful. Fuck, this girl is crazy! I was thinking. She was always so decent, but I seem to have provoked something crazy sexual inside of her, something that I’ve never even believed existed. I was wearing shorts, and she could see I was ready. She gave me some room, enough to pull it out. She looked at me, and I looked at her. I knew what she wanted, and she knew what I wanted. She moved back and got on her knees, right between my legs. I quickly got my shorts off and touched her lips gently with my thumb. I leaned down, kissed her and leaned back on the sofa. She never lost my sight. I was falling in love at this exact moment. Her eyes looked directly into mine, penetrating my soul. I relaxed and was slowly running my fingers through her hair, caressing her, fixing the small hairs and touching her face…lips…neck…chin… I closed my eyes and soaked in the experience.
All of a sudden the front door opened wide and a couple of her flatmates entered. They were deeply involved in their conversation and didn’t see us at first. They were both wearing McDonalds’ uniforms and carrying paper bags, full of burgers, fries, milkshakes, and who knows what else. Both of them froze when they saw us, and it all became merely awkward. I had myself covered with a small decorative pillow and Sandra was hiding behind the table. I knew her flatmates. I’ve seen them before. Rae and George were their names, and they were all right.
“Hey, guys! How was work?” I said trying to be casual.
“It was all right!” George said slowly moving to the kitchen and leaving the paper bags.
“George, let’s go upstairs for a while. Let’s give them some privacy.” Rae said with a smirk on her face and winked at me.
“Ok, see ya later Vick.”
“See ya,” I mumbled.
Women! They always know when to strike and how to make one another uncomfortable.
They left to their rooms, and the fight began. Sandra was furious with me.
“YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT! How dare you come here drunk and embarrass me in front of my flatmates? And this fucking bitch! She’s saying: “Let’s give them some privacy.” I am going to fucking strangle her in her mother fuckin sleep. I promise you that.”
“Shh, baby, be quiet. They can hear you!”
“Don’t shush me! I don’t give a damn if they hear me or not. For all, I know they should listen to me! AND YOU, YOU GET YOUR SHIT AND GET OUT OF HERE! HEAR ME? GET OUT OF HERE!” she was shouting at me out of her mind.
I was standing there naked, trying to calm her down.
“Listen, babe. We are all grown-ups. Things like this happen. It is OKAY! No need to go crazy about this!”
I tried to hug her and block the violent swinging of her arms. She pushed me back and spat in my face.
“WHAT THE FUCK?!”
“GET OUT OF HERE ASSHOLE!” she kept on shouting and started punching me.
I got my shorts on somehow through her violent swings, got my shirt in my hand and she ran me out. She slammed the door shut behind me. I didn’t really know how to feel about all this. I was falling in love with a crazy girl who liked to insult me whenever she wants and even spat in my face. My brain was refusing to process what just happened. I sat on the scooter and cleaned my face with my shirt. I put my, wet with angry woman’s saliva, shirt back on and lit a cigarette. I sat there for a while. It was quiet here at the end of 74th street. The house was far from Coastal Highway where most traffic was and so late at night was almost impossible to see or hear any cars around. I finished my cigarette, flicked it in their backyard, started the scooter and headed back.
On my way back to Anglers’, I was feeling entirely in touch with everything around me. Even though the night was a failure, I was enjoying the beauty of the evening. I drove by a mini golf park, and there were still people playing, at almost 2 am. Such a lovely city is Ocean city. I stopped at a traffic light and looked at the sky, full of stars.
A van, full of drunken teenagers, halted right next to me. Incredibly powerful country music was coming out of it, and there were about six drunk chicks and two guys in the back of the van. They all looked underage. They were all laughing, kissing, joking and sharing bottles. One of the girls flashed me. Her boobs were huge.
“HEY! HEY, YOU! ON THE SCOOTER! YOU! HEY!”
I pretended I couldn’t hear her and pointed at my left ear.
“HEY, YOU,” she kept going. “COME OVER! JUMP ON! GO WITH US!” she was shouting over the loud music.
“Yeah! What about my bike?”
“CAN’T HEAR YOU!”
“I SAID, WHAT ABOUT MY BIKE?”
“FUCK YOUR BIKE! LEAVE IT!” The girl with the big boobs smiled frisky at me.
I smiled back. The light turned green. I heard the screeching sound of the tires, the girl with the big boobs fell back in the lap of one of her girlfriends, and they were gone. All they left behind was a puff of smoke in my face. I waited for a few seconds until the smoke disappeared and started the engine.
By the time I reached the last traffic light before Anglers’, I was getting more and more distracted, thinking of tonight’s events. I saw the green light disappear, but I didn’t stop. It turned red, but I was okay with that. I felt ready to face whatever was coming. What was coming was a police patrol car on the left side of the crossroad. They were standing outside of the car and chatting. As soon as I passed by them, they jumped in and turned on the siren. I sped up as much as I could and took the first one in right then left, then right again and halted. I left the fucking thing in someone’s backyard. My mind was completely shut. All it could think of was - run. From there I ran. I ran for my life. I ran for the cheap long island ice teas. I ran for the unfortunate spit in my face. I ran for all the big breasted teen girls who like to flash strangers for no reason. I ran for all the drunken idiots driving at night.
I ran in between the houses toward Anglers’. If they caught me, I was going to be in big trouble. I was driving someone else’s scooter, drunk and had no papers. I managed to get in and went as far from the entrance as possible. Cameron was sitting or somewhat sleeping on a table in the corner by himself, covered in vomit.
“Aaargh,” he mumbled something.
“What the hell did u drink?’
He couldn’t look straight, and his head kept on falling on the table. I left him there and went to the bar. Mike was there. I pooled a stool and sat next to him. He was sipping on a whiskey on the rocks.
“Can I get one of the same?” I asked the bartender, pointing at Mike’s drink. “And one for him too.”
“Hey, buddy! Thanks.”
“No problem! Shift’s almost over, ha?”
“Yeh! One more hour and I’m getting all these drunken assholes out of here.”
“Did you have fun tonight?”
“That chick is dope, bro.”
“She asked me to go see her.”
“Nice! Did you? Did you go?”
“Of course I went!”
“You, dawg!” Mike smiled, nodded his head in approval and punched me hard in the shoulder. “Details…details, bro!”
I sighed wearily and looked him straight in the eye. “She spat in my face, bro!”
Mike gazed at me and his gaze - contained and questioning, searching for the truth, didn’t last long. He burst into laughter and couldn’t control it no matter how hard he tried. The laughing seizure continued for a good few minutes.
“Very funny, ha-ha! It was fucking horrible!” I was exasperated.
“Bitch’s got a temper, yo! Sorry, bruh!” Mike said while trying to hold his breath. “How? Why??”
“Nah, man! Forget it!”
“No way, bro? You gotta tell me everything!”
“Yeh? No! I don’t wanna talk about it!”
I started to get annoyed, and Mike felt it. The smirk on his face disappeared, and he tried to act normal. He took a cigarette out of his pocket, cleared his throat and lit it up. I did the same. We stayed for a moment like this, smoking, not talking to each other, staring into the distance.
“Women are fucking complicated! One day they love you, next day they spit in your face and the day after they ask you to pay fuckin child support for a child you never even knew existed. How is that fair?”
“I don’t know what to tell you, bro! It sucks!”
“I know it sucks. Thank you very much! I am just trying to be nice, and you…you know what? Fuck you!”
“Fuck you too, asshole!”
We looked at each other and laughed. Mike finished his drink, stood up and tapped me on the shoulder.
“Gotta go bruh, hasta manana!”
“Yeah, see you!”
I downed my whiskey and decided to look around for Ethan. I found him on the dance floor. He was getting himself squashed by these two fat mommas, but it seemed like he was having fun. I got closer and handed him a beer.
“Hey, what’s up dude?” Ethan mumbled.
We clanked the bottles, and he kept on dancing. One of the fat mommas was trying to get cozy with me.
“Did you score some pussy?” Ethan asked.
“You can score now! Right? Ladies?” Ethan winked at them, and they smiled at him in a shy but very grotesque kind of a way. One would think that this teenager is their pimp or something.
After a few beers, this heavily pimpled teenager, I met at the beginning of the night, has turned himself into some modern age, Casanova. I handed him the keys.
“Thanks for the bike, dude! I left it a block away from here in the backyard of some house. You can’t miss it.”
“Why so far, dude?”
He asked, but he didn’t really care. He was swinging and grabbing that huge juicy ass without even looking at me. I left the scene.
As I moved away, one of the fat chicks started frenching Ethan, and the other one danced her way behind his back and sandwiched the kid. At least someone will have fun tonight, I was thinking, while the fat mommas were grinding on my friend who was still in his puberty.
I found the others and stayed with them for a couple of more beers until the bar closed. I didn’t feel the need to speak of this night’s events to anybody but felt a bit paranoid on the way back to the house and looked over my shoulder every once in a while.
I never saw Ethan again. I wonder if the fat chicks raped him to death or the cops got to him. In any of the scenarios, I am sure he had the time of his life.
Did you enjoy my story? Please let me know what you think by leaving a review! Thanks, Vick SokoloveWrite a Review