***
Morris had an uneasy feeling about Simon's idea. It had worked too easily. A fifteen-year-old kid calls up some college girl he doesn't even know for a date; and then he gets it, with few questions asked? Morris had been around the block enough times to be suspicious.
He knew that if, for example, some mousy freshman girl had called him and his friends – rather, his ex-friends – trolling for a date, cruelty would have ensued. In the pit of his stomach, Morris felt like this was a similar trap. Why would these girls want to hang out with two high school kids on a Friday night?
But Simon seemed so jubilant, and Morris couldn't find it in his heart to break that jubilation by announcing his suspicions. As soon as the two jumped back into his jeep, Simon dug through Morris's CD collection. He found the Nelly CD – which his parents certainly wouldn't have allowed him to own – threw it into the disc player, and turned it up loud. The bass echoed off the houses of the neighborhoods they were driving through.
They were two pimps, out for a night on the town – two pimps, about to throw down with some wild college girls.
Simon absolutely loved nights like this. They were so rare, and beautiful. Most nights were boring, loaded with hope of something, anything interesting, anything fun – followed by nothing.
Nothing ever happened, nothing that made him feel complete. Homework, TV, dinner with family, reading, praying for the phone to ring, his parents stalking him on his dates, nothing. Nothing ever happened. Nothing was allowed to happen.
But tonight was different, would be different. Maybe the fact that Matt was planning to marry a Jewish girl was a sign of it. Maybe things were changing for the Camdens. Simon could not think of a better night to execute his plan.
The sky was clear, almost as clear as his head.
The night air felt cool, almost as cool as he felt.
***
Morris found a place to park a couple blocks from the bar. Friday night looked like it was hopping in this college area of town. Young people were everywhere he could see, walking across the campus courtyard, holding hands, walking along the sidewalks toward their favorite watering holes.
As the two pimps strolled toward McSweeney's, Morris could tell Simon was jazzed. The kid looked like he was a positively charged ion about to bounce off the positively charged sides of the buildings.
Ugh, Morris thought, I've been studying too hard for that upcoming physics test. I guess that's what happens when your so-called friends turn on you – you spend your newfound free time studying, your grades go up, you turn into a geek…and then you start hanging out with geeks.
"This is so cool," Simon gushed. "Isn't this cool, man? I can't wait until I get to college."
"Yeah," said Morris, still trying not to burst Simon's bubble. "This is, uh, pretty cool."
"Hey look, do you think that might be Barb?"
***
Barb recognized the two high school kids right away. She wasn't sure exactly why, but they stood out from all the other people on the street that night. Maybe it was because one of them looked young, so young.
From a distance, she figured Simon must have been the muscular one. He was blond, attractive, fairly tall, and he was the only one of the two who even remotely looked eighteen, so she figured it must be him.
She approached them and introduced herself, "Hi, I'm Barb. Let me guess, you must be Simon."
"Actually, I'm Morris. He's Simon."
Barb turned to the skinny, gawky kid and tried not to laugh. "Wait a minute, you're Simon? I thought you said you were eighteen."
"Yeah, that's right," Simon tried to play it cool.
Barb shook her head but decided to let it go. "Well, it's nice to meet you boys – I mean, gentlemen. Jill's already inside getting us a round of lemon drops. The place is packed so she figured she'd better get to the bar ASAP."
"Actually, I'm the DD tonight, so I won't be drinking," said Morris.
"Oh, that's OK. He can do your shot for you," Barb said, nodding toward Simon.
"Yeah, Mo, I got you covered," Simon boasted.
Mo? As Barb led the way into the bar, Morris grabbed Simon's jacket and held him back for a second.
"Listen, Camden. I babysat your drunk ass once already, and I'm not going to do it again tonight. Are we clear on that?"
"Relax, man, I can handle myself."
"Bullshit. You're a lightweight. After this first round of shots, you're done, OK?"
"No way, man. These girls like to party. As long as they're drinking, I'm drinking."
"Look, Simon, I don't think you know what you're getting yourself into. These girls could probably drink you under the table."
"Oh yeah? We'll see about that."
Shit. Morris wondered again why he was so attracted to this goofy dipshit. He could really be a clueless moron sometimes. But it wasn't entirely his fault. Morris figured that if he himself had been raised in a preacher's house, he probably would be just as goofy and naïve, if not worse.
***
As Morris stepped into the bar, he could see that it was packed wall-to-wall just like Barb had said. In fact, McSweeney's had to be violating some kind of building capacity code. Morris then realized that no bouncer had carded any of them on their way in. What kind of place was this, and how could it not get shut down?
Jill had somehow managed to save them a table for four in the corner. Simon had already downed his first vodka shot and was blissfully sucking on the lemon.
Damn! It burned going down, way worse than the spiked punch. But it didn't last too long. He would live. And the lemon made the nasty aftertaste go away.
"Hi, I'm Jill," Jill shouted across the table to Morris as he sat down.
"Nice to meet you, I'm Morris," he shouted back.
All the introductions had been made, and an awkward silence followed. Only it wasn't silence, because it was filled with deafening crowd noise. Hoping to get the conversation going again, and realizing that he, Jill, and Barb each still had a shot in front of them, Simon raised his second glass into the air.
"I'd like to make a toast, to meeting new people."
Jill and Barb raised and clinked their shot glasses, and Morris raised the invisible glass in his hand.
The shot went down. God, this one burned stronger.
-Suck the lemon. Suck the lemon. Make the gag reflex go away. Suck the lemon. It's gone. You're OK.-
"Woo hoo!" Simon shouted, not knowing where it came from.
Morris was laughing. Jill and Barb were laughing too. Jill spoke.
"So, Morris, Simon said you guys are seniors at Glenoak?"
"Yeah," Morris answered, not blowing Simon's cover.
"Have you picked out colleges yet?"
"I'm trying to get a football scholarship somewhere."
"You play football?"
"Yeah."
"My boyfriend plays football. Sorry, I meant my cheating bastard ex-boyfriend plays football. He taught me all about it. What position do you play?"
Simon was losing interest in their conversation, and so was Barb. She slinked out of her seat, around the table, to Simon, and whispered in his ear – well, it would have been a whisper if she hadn't had to raise her voice over the crowd noise.
"Let's go get another round."
Simon knew he wasn't ready for another round, but he got up and walked toward the bar with her anyway. The place was so crowded that they had to carefully navigate their way through the sea of people to get there. Simon was glad he was so thin. It was easier for him not to bump into people.
As they walked, he realized that other than a little rumbling in his stomach, he wasn't feeling any ill effects. His brain felt clear. His balance was intact. Maybe by the time they reached the bar, he would be ready for the next shot.
They finally reached the island in the middle that was the bar. Even though there were several people waiting to place orders, one of the bartenders immediately came over when he saw Barb. The guy looked like he was in his early to mid-twenties, dark haired, maybe just a little sleazy.
He planted a little kiss on Barb's cheek and asked, "How ya been, babe?"
"I'm okay, Jack. How 'bout you?"
"Can't complain. Business is good, as you can see," he winked at her.
"Definitely."
"So who is this?" Jack looked over to Simon.
"This is my company for the night, Simon."
"Company?" Jack laughed, and Simon couldn't tell why. He turned to Simon and said, "Watch out for this one, kid. She's a wild one."
Simon nodded, not knowing what else to do or say. What the hell was going on here?
"What can I get you two?" Jack asked.
"Do you want another lemon drop, or do you want something else?" Barb asked Simon.
"Lemon drop is fine. Let me pay for this round," Simon said.
Was he slurring his words? He couldn't tell. It didn't matter. The crowd noise was too loud for it to be noticeable, even to him.
"Simon, I've got an idea," Barb said, with a naughty look in her eye. "Do you want to make this one a body shot?"
"What's a body shot?"
"It's when I sprinkle the sugar on my neck and put the lemon slice in my mouth. Then you do the shot, lick the sugar off my neck, and take the lemon out of my mouth without using your hands."
"Cool," said Simon. "Let's do it."
"Jack, we need two lemon drops."
"Coming right up, babe."
What was that rumbling in Simon's stomach?
Was it the last two vodka shots, or was it his nerves?
-Be cool. You can handle another one.-
In just a minute, Jack returned with two full shot glasses. They looked about twice the size of the other shots Simon had just done.
"I made them doubles, but I'll only charge you for regular shots," said Jack, winking again. "That's eight dollars."
Simon handed Jack the twenty he had won from Morris, and left Jack a dollar tip from the change.
"Well, here we go," said Barb as she leaned her head back seductively. She licked her fingers and moistened a spot on her neck, then sprinkled a tiny bit of sugar on. Next, she picked up a lemon slice and placed it between her teeth. Simon noticed that several of the other guys in the bar were looking at Barb intently, as if they were fantasizing that they were in Simon's position.
-It's time to take care of business.-
Simon picked up the double shot and tried hard to down it all at once. It didn't quite work.
God, it burned. And it tasted awful. What the hell?
After about five gulps, he had finally finished the double. Shit. He needed that lemon, fast. He quickly licked what he hoped was the right spot on her neck, although he didn't seem to taste any sugar. Then he moved up to her mouth and bit down on the lemon.
While his lips were there, Barb moved hers closer to his.
-Dammit, I need the fucking lemon right now. I could give a shit about lip-locking with you. I'm going to vomit into your mouth if I don't get a hit off this fucking citrus now!-
Somehow he survived.
While Barb mashed her lips onto his, he mashed his teeth down on the lemon. The motion must have simulated a kiss, because Barb seemed pleased.
She looked at him happily and said, "My turn."
As Simon spat out his chewed lemon wedge, Barb licked her fingers again and swabbed them across his neck. Then she sprinkled on a dash of sugar, and put a fresh lemon wedge in Simon's mouth, with the skin-side facing him. Barb downed her shot in two gulps at the most. She hovered around Simon's neck, licking every last crystal of sugar clean off it. Then she moved her mouth up to his and seductively retrieved the lemon, using a lot more tongue than Simon had expected.
And that was his last clear memory of the evening.