Logan Bruno,
Rogue! Gigolo! Yes, that's right. I know all about your many dalliances and conquests - Shawna Riverson, Ashley Wyeth, Janine Kishi, Tess Swinhart, Mrs. Kuhn. Your family spilled all your dirty little secrets. I bet you thought I'd break down in uncontrollable sobs. Actually, I did. But afterward, I went out and landed a conquest of my own. Yes, Logan, the fruit has been spoiled and I am a painted lady.
Your EX-Girlfriend, Mary Anne Spier
P.S. Janine Kishi! What were you thinking?
My tears over Logan had long since dried by Wednesday. That night in the sex shop opened my eyes and gave rise to a new Mary Anne. One more confident, more spontaneous, and completely in control of her sexuality. I realized as I stood in the soft-core porn aisle, the penis pump fallen at my feet, that even if Logan refused to give me a ride on his rollercoaster of love, plenty of other boys would be happy to oblige. Countless love carrots were waiting to be discovered and I, Mary Anne Spier, would taste them all.
Unfortunately, my meeting with Stephen Montalbano did not go well. Actually, it didn't happen at all. Thursday night, I headed to the youth hostel as planned. I looked rather acute in a freshly pressed cream-colored blouse and a gray kilt and a pair of Stacey's crotchless panties. I was getting a little antsy on the tram, so I jogged the last block to the youth hostel. Face flushed with excitement and anticipation, I approached the hostel...just in time to see three policemen lead Stephen Montalbano out of it. A fourth policeman was close behind with a nun and a goat. I knew I wouldn't see Stephen Montalbano ever again.
I was filled with a sinking disappointment the entire tram ride back to Verbruggenhuis. That antsy feeling hadn't gone away. That vibrator I found under Greer's bed was starting to look pretty good. So was Alan Gray. Dejected and desperate, I slowly walked from the tram stop to Verbruggenhuis.
As I approached Verbruggenhuis, I noticed a dark figure on the roof of the van der Velden-Gegenhuber house next door. At first I figured it was Mallory and Gerhild playing pirates or horses or something. But there was something suspicious about the way the figure was laying flat with a pair of binoculars pressed to their eyes, looking right into a lighted window of Verbruggenhuis. I decided to investigate. I stood in the narrow alley between the two houses and looked up. From where I was standing I couldn't tell what the person was staring at. Curiosity overcoming my fear, I climbed the ladder that ran straight up the side of the van der Velden-Gegenhuber house. (I'd only ever seen such ladders in movies. I felt like a real Hollywood starlet climbing up one).
I pulled myself onto the roof and discovered Gerhild's brother, Georg, staring through the binoculars at a half-naked Anna Stevenson. She was sitting in a chair, playing the violin, completely oblivious to the Peeping Tom.
"What are you doing?" I asked, sternly.
Georg startled and scrambled to his feet. "Uh...stargazing," he replied.
I started to protest. I knew exactly what he was doing. I may be shy and a little naive, but I'm not stupid. I almost read him the riot act, but then...I got distracted by the way Anna Stevenson's right breast pressed into the violin. It was quite exciting to watch, concealed by the cloak of darkness.
Honestly, I don't know what happened next. Somehow Georg and I ended up on the chaise lounge his sister Gudrun uses for tanning. Clothes were flying, tongues were panting, and Georg Gegenhuber was riding me like a shetland pony.
As of Wednesday morning, Georg and I had been wrapped in a blanket of sexual ecstasy for nearly a week. Like I once overheard Sharon say about Mr. and Mrs. Pike, Georg and I were "mating like rabbits". Of course, we were using protection. No glove, no love. Stacey taught me that. Georg slipped on a condom before our every encounter. Ultra thin and ribbed for her pleasure. Dad wouldn't sign the permission slip for me to take Sex Ed. last winter, but I do read Teen magazine.
Georg said he had a surprise planned for me that afternoon, so I knew I needed to eat a hearty breakfast. Kristy, Abby, and I were on our fourth pancakes when Dawn and Jessi walked into the kitchen. Jessi and I avoided eye contact. I was so embarrassed about her walking in on me in that kitten mask. I almost started crying again. Maybe she didn't know what I was doing? She is only eleven, after all. But, by the way Jessi refused to meet my eyes, I knew she knew exactly what had been going on. I just hoped she hadn't figured out Georg's identity. Jessi would tell Mal, then Mal would tell Gerhild. I did not want Gerhild to know I'd been making mad, passionate love to her brother. Gerhild was kind of weird. I didn't need her trying to force me to walk the plank or something.
"Can I have some pancakes?" asked Dawn.
"The syrup isn't organic," replied Kristy.
"That's okay," said Dawn, putting two pancakes onto her plate.
I knew I'd been busy living the life of a Harlequin romance heroine, but it hadn't escaped my notice that Dawn had been acting odd. She hadn't screeched at anyone in more than twenty-four hours. And she wouldn't take off her baseball cap and sunglasses. If I wasn't so consumed with thoughts of handcuffs and new ways to pleasure Georg with them, I might have inquired about Dawn's troubles.
I spent most of the morning shopping with Shannon and Greer. (Dawn refused to leave Verbruggenhuis). In the afternoon, Kristy, Abby, and I decided to hang around the Leliegracht. Kristy and Abby kicked a soccer ball around, then organized some kids for a game. I sat on a bench and read a book about bondage, hidden in the pages of a Dutch fashion magazine. It was a peaceful day that allowed me to conserve my energy for my evening tryst with Georg.
At four-thirty on the dot, I spotted Georg walking up the block. He'd spent the day at work, giving bus tours. Georg really was my dream boy. Not only was he open minded and willing sexually, but he was a genuine tour guide! My friends always joke about me being a walking guidebook (everyone enjoys my facts though), but I had found the real deal in Georg. He knew everything there is to know about Amsterdam and The Netherlands. It was, after all, his job. He knew all the little trivial facts that don't make it into the guidebooks. It was much better touring Amsterdam with him than with Mallory and Gerhild. Gerhild's all right, but she knows nothing about Amsterdam. She can barely even string a single sentence together in Dutch. I guess I couldn't blame her since she doesn't live in Amsterdam year round.
I slipped away quietly. Kristy had a nine-year-old in a headlock, so I doubt she noticed. I wasn't bold enough to kiss Georg in public (that would be so embarrassing), so I waited until we were in his house. Then I sort of tackled him. Georg giggled as I bit his neck. I was never that free with Logan.
"I have a wonderful evening planned," Georg told me, after returning from upstairs, where he'd gone to change. He looked very handsome in his khaki shorts, green polo shirt, socks, and brown sandals. I had borrowed Dawn's sailor dress for the evening, so I knew we looked like the perfect couple. I playfully ruffled Georg's mop of curly hair and bit him once more on the neck, then he escorted me to the tram stop. Tiffany Kilbourne was also on the tram, wearing too much make up and more of Stacey's clothes. I pretended not to see her and she returned the favor.
Georg covered my eyes as we exited the tram, not wanting to ruin the surprise. We walked a few feet, then Georg said, "All right, Mary Anne, you've told me this is one of your favorite places in the world,"
"I'm so excited!" I squealed.
"Ta da!" yelled Georg, uncovering my eyes.
"The Hard Rock Cafe!" I shrieked, jumping up and down. "The Hard Rock Cafe Amsterdam!" I hugged him, thinking of all the souvenirs I could buy. I didn't even care that people were staring. Well, I cared a little. At least enough to blush violent red.
Georg smiled. "You said it's your dream to visit every Hard Rock Cafe in the world,"
"Oh, it is," I replied. "And I want to own a t-shirt from every Hard Rock in the world,"
Georg and I were seated right away. Surprisingly, the restaurant had hardly any customers. Strange since Stacey always says the Hard Rock is one of the most sophisticated places in New York. I was starting to miss Stacey. I hoped she'd come back soon.
"What I love about the Hard Rock," I told Georg,"is that no matter where it is, the menu's the same! It reminds me of the very first time I ate at the Hard Rock New York. I was with the Baby-Sitters Club. It was amazing. Kristy ordered filet mignon, only she called it fill-it mig-nun." My eyes started to mist from the memories. Georg looked kind of confused. He was used to seeing me in the throes of passion, not dabbing at my eyes with wadded napkins.
After dinner (we both had cheeseburgers and Cokes. At Hard Rock, it's not the food that matters, it's the atmosphere), Georg and I window shopped. I wasn't familiar with that part of the city (the Max Euweplein) and, of course, Georg was happy to show me around. Georg said he had another surprise for me, so we hopped a tram to the Leidseplein. I hadn't spent much time in the Leidseplein either, but Dawn spoke of it often. Protesting, as usual, I suppose.
"So, where are we headed?" I asked Georg, as we walked through the Leidseplein.
"I guess I can tell you," he said. "We're going to see Boom Chicago, an American comedy troupe. Gudrun, Gerhild, and I went earlier this summer. It's very humorous."
I was a tad disappointed. I'd hoped we were headed for someplace kinkier than a comedy club. I smiled anyway. Georg was trying to make the evening special. So far, it was far better than the dates Logan and I went on to Tuesday Chili Boat Nite at Renwick's.
"That's the McDonald's that got vandalized," said Georg, pointing across the street.
"Vandalized?"
"Didn't you hear? Some crazy environmentalists broke in and stole all the hamburger patties. They also destroyed a soda machine and smashed a few windows,"
A cold feeling ran down my spine. "When was this?" I asked.
"Monday night?" Georg replied. "Yes. Monday. The police caught two girls. I think they attend my school, actually. The police are still searching for the driver of the getaway car. He drove into a butcher shop, then ran away. Another girl got away, too. She is what you Americans call 'on the lam'. Is that the correct phrase? The other girls won't give up her identity, or the driver's,"
Dawn! I could not believe it. My own stepsister, a fugitive from justice! It explained so many things - the baseball cap, the sunglasses, the refusal to leave the house, the constant mutterings about "the pigs". I assumed she was angry over Kristy and Greer eating bacon the other morning. Oh, Dawn, I thought, what have you done? My eyes welded with tears. Dad would be very upset. As an attorney, he believes in abiding by the law. I wasn't sure how Sharon and Mr. Schafer would react. They were social activists in their younger days, too. Dawn often bragged about how they helped burn down the Forestry building at Humboldt State during an anti-war protest. After a day or two, Sharon would probably forget Dawn's criminal record and eat her shoe.
My family was about to be launched into turmoil over the rashness of Dawn's actions. There was only one thing I could do. "Georg, I'm sorry, but can we just go back to your house?" I asked. "My mind is in chaos and its only cure is your banging it against a headboard."
Georg appeared taken aback at my suggestion. Truthfully, so was I. In the past few days, I'd gotten quite bold in my sexual propositions. Perhaps, Amsterdam truly was turning me into the All-New Mary Anne Spier. Shannon kept insisting the city brought out the worst in everyone. I disagreed. Amsterdam gave me so much and freed me from the chains of my virtue, chains unfairly bound to me by Logan and my father. In Amsterdam, I was someone stronger and no one would control me ever again.