Crumpled foil against slick, sweaty hands. My fingertip's rough edge found what I was looking for and pulled it into my waiting blowhole. I took a quick puff before opening the passenger side door.
She'd wrapped a black scarf around her neck as if to conceal the fact that she'd recently been bitten and could turn at any time.
A dark mystery waiting to be solved?
For some reason I had that song "Ride my Pony" by Ginuwine circling around my head. It seemed so out of place in this situation that I just had to chuckle.
I knew just where I wanted to take her.
A green cardboard box lay open on the passenger side floorboard . I still had eight beers left. Moosehead. I could think of several adjectives to describe that beer, most of which were rather unflattering. Terrible, horrible, detestable, drinkable. Hey, it does the trick. The Moose is Loose. Ten bucks for a twelve pack. They sell to minors at the convenience store down the road.
Source: Pixabay.com
I know exactly where I was going.
Turner Boulevard.
They say the sculptor had lost his mind and killed his entire family. I'm sure it was just an urban legend, but I really didn't care. Everybody trespassed on his property when they wanted to get laid. It's not like there were any fences or keep out signs.
The ride over have been uneventful. I tried to talk about music, art, and politics, but she didn't have much to say about anything so I reached over and grabbed two beers out of the open container. It was a neat trick to pop them both open at the same time using my lighter and middle knuckle.
She accepted the one I handed her but didn't appear to be interested in doing anything more than looking at the bottle.
The street was as dark as it ever was. Tall looming trees hunched over the asphalt giving the spooky appearance of a long wooden tunnel.
The house itself was fenced in by a giant black iron gate. I had no interest in going inside. The front yard was all I needed to do the trick. It was three acres if it was a foot; completely filled with huge metallic objects that reached nearly a hundred feet into the air.
You could climb on them, play with them, or even sleep underneath them. I'd spent many nights here just staring into the black abyss.
I wondered if Jenny's panties were black too. They must have been. Do they make black tampons? I spit out a mouthfeel of beer. Focus.
We sat on the lush green grass underneath an enormous aluminum man with a large square hat and springs for arms. She'd actually finished her beer and was on her second one when I blurted out something that I probably shouldn't have.
"What made you decide to call me after all this time?"
She squirmed a little bit, clearly uncomfortable at being prodded.
Poking at a random strand of jet black hair, she answered with a sullen sort of pride.
"No man is an island? I guess. Something fun or something" her voice trailed off into a mumble.
"Do you want to have some fun?" I was honestly pretty drunk by now.
She was pulling at blades of grass like a child might do when asked a difficult question in a similar spot.
Not getting a response, I reached into the nearly empty pack of Newports and pulled out something special.
Things hadn't exactly been going my way, but I thought I could still salvage the situation.
I lit the end of the rolled up paper and inhaled deeply, keeping my eyes locked on hers. I tried not to cough as I held it near her mouth.
Fingers crossed.
She grabbed it from my head and took a big puff.
Things were looking up.
Part one is here: https://steemit.com/fiction/@jeezzle/jenny-is-your-bed-still-empty
Part three is coming soon.
