“Hey Shane….”

“How’d you know it was me?”

“Caller Id…..wanna come over….make me some pasta?”

“You’re serious….”

“As a heart attack….come on over….we’ll talk, we’ll eat….I’ll show you my place…..you can fill me up with your life story…..”

My life story…..this is it…..isn’t it?

I take a shower. I get dressed. I smile in the mirror. I have a great smile. Lots of teeth, great lips, Carmen said so. I stop, get serious, she did it, invaded my thoughts. I was not going to think about Carmen. And like most things it didn’t work. I shook my head, looked away from the mirror and grabbed my leather jacket and met the car. It was chilly lately and the jacket made me look sleek, hip, I was trying to be anyway.

She sends a car, a town car. Grey leather interior, shiny wood paneling, no smoking. Bourbon and ice, I left the ice. The drink made me feel a little warm, a little silly. I hadn’t had a drink in while. We drove through the city, followed the coast for a while, not sure which direction, I don’t do navigation to well. I went with it.

 The hills and we are climbing. Past these stately homes, past the houses on stilts, past tree’s and possibly Madonna’s house. And we stop, nice driveway curling up the hill almost to the top and we stop, the sound of night birds and buzzing bugs great me, the driver motions for me to the follow the path, and I do.

There is a fountain with an archer in it. Blue luminous light filters out. Nice cottage style home, small quaint, like maybe servants quarters or so I read in novels and such, this was fucking great. Nice white bench in front of the house, I rang the bell.

She answers no maid or butler. She smiles and is happy to see me. She has on one of those blue and black gator shirts from the 80’s; I forget what they are called. I only ever called them gator shirts, anyhow she’s wearing that and white slacks no shoes, painted pink toenails, no makeup, no gloss, just flawless and beautiful and I’m on the completely wrong side of the tracks.