Just Another Lost Angel...
Part 15: Some Are Born to Sweet Delight, Some Are Born to the Endless Night...
Georgiy Datsenko. Getty Images.Even with an empty bottle of Southern Comfort half sticking out of the sand next to me, sunrise had no problem waking me out of a sound sleep. It was early, and after I rubbed my eyes clear, my thoughts immediately shifted to Moose and Mary and the shit that had gone down less than 24 hours earlier…
I searched the horizon for answers, but there were none. That horizon shit is a lotta crap. All I kept thinking about was Dennis, Moose's best friend, and the warning he gave me before we left Massachusetts. I shoulda listened…
I wasn't ready to go back to the house in Miramar, and after I accused my father of having an affair with his Columbian secretary and he laid me and Moose off, he and I weren't talking. So, destination Miami was out.
My cousin Marcia and her husband Marty were legit hippies living out of a Volkswagen pop-up camper in a trailer park not too far from Dania. I decided to pay them a visit. The two of them were practical thinkers, and I thought they might be able to help me figure this out.
Marcia had a degree in education, and Marty was a motorcycle mechanic who later became a vocational teacher in a Florida high school. They were both in their mid-twenties at the time and fully embraced their hippie lifestyle. Every time I saw them, Marcia was wearing a sundress, and Marty was in cutoff shorts and a tee shirt. They both wore sandals and cheap beaded necklaces, the kind they sell at flea markets. They didn't wear any real jewelry other than plain gold wedding bands. They both had Florida tans, brown eyes, and curly dark brown hair and if you didn't know they were husband and wife, you'd think they were brother and sister.
I stopped at a package store, picked up a bottle of Southern Comfort, and headed over to see them…
They were happy to see me and told me right away they thought Moose was an asshole, and they had only met him once. They didn't think drinking and riding around on my motorcycle was a safe way of dealing with the situation. I couldn't argue with that.
I spent the day there off the bike, drinking and smoking weed, and their advice was not to take any shit from Moose. That night, I slept in the pop-up camper. Then, after a strong cup of morning Joe, I got on my bike and headed back to Miramar.
As soon as I pulled into the driveway, I could hear music blasting inside. The garage door was wide open, so I pulled in and parked my bike next to Moose's Norton. I walked in through the garage, and Cindy, Mary, and Moose were playing charades in the den, and they were high as kites. Moose looked surprised to see me. "Hey Vinnie, where'd ya go? You wanna play?"
"I went to see my cousins, and no, I don't wanna play…"
I went directly into my room, shut the door behind me, and after I read some of my poetry on the wall over my bureau, I laid down for a while.
When I came out an hour later, they'd lowered the music, finished playing charades, and were smoking a joint. I took a few hits.
Then Moose told me John packed his duffle bag and left yesterday, and the girls were heading to Georgia this afternoon. They were getting a ride with one of Cindy's father's friends, a long-haul trucker.
About an hour later, a Kenworth sleeper cab pulled into our driveway. It was a good-looking truck that towered over our single-story ranch.
As soon as they heard the truck, the girls ran out of the house carrying their small suitcases, their leather pocketbooks hanging off their shoulders. They hugged Moose and said their goodbyes to me, and then the truck driver helped them climb into the cab.
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The driver was in his mid-50s, about five foot six, with a beer gut, a thick gray beard, and a Confederate trucker cap covering his scraggly gray hair, some of which was hanging out the back and sides. He put his big rig in reverse and backed out of the driveway. As he drove away, he sounded his musical air horns, which played "I Wish I Was In Dixie", and just like that, Cindy and Mary were gone…
Moose and I stood in the empty driveway, looked at each other, and started laughing hysterically. Then Moose said, "Hey, I'm starved. Wanna take a ride over to Burger King for some Whoppers?"
"Yeah," I answered. "I'm starvin' too. Let's go…"
We sat in Burger King and stuffed our faces like we had done so many times before, and we never mentioned Cindy or Mary…
The next morning, we woke up late, mixed a couple of Bloody Marys, smoked a joint, and went into our backyard hoping to see our next-door neighbor, Crazy Phil…
Well, I just got into town about an hour ago
Took a look around, see which way the wind blow
Where the little girls in their Hollywood bungalows
Are you a lucky little lady in the City of Light?
Or just another lost angel?
City of Night, City of Night
Two weeks later, three young ladies, Moose's friends, came to Miramar to spend their 10-day vacation with us. Two were school teachers, and the third was a nurse. All good-looking, too…
To be continued…
*All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental…