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August 30, 2010 Posted by | Photo | | Leave a comment

The Return of Jack Collier (Chapter Ten)

The Return of Jack Collier

A Jack Collier Story

By Brett N. Lashuay

 

 

Last week’s entry can be found here.

 

 

Chapter Ten: When Men Talk Beauty

 

            If you’re going to say something like I had, that bisexual women are the most beautiful in the world, you’d better have some good reasoning behind it. Of course all men understand that bisexual woman are hot, but not all women get why, beyond thinking that we’ve only got three ways on our minds. It’s not that, although it’s obviously part of it. So I explained to Alice why I’d said it.

 

            “Movies and TV have taught me nothing if they haven’t taught me that the most beautiful women in the world are bisexuals,” I told her.

 

            “Really?” she asked.

 

            “We’re children of the nineties,” I said. “When lesbians were first becoming popular they put some really pretty actresses in the rolls, right? Either because they were trying to combat the bull dyke stereotype or because they liked watching hot chicks make out.”

 

            “Yeah,” she said, “I remember.”

 

            “Right,” I said. “But when lesbians became a little passé they started to mix it up with bisexuals, who were played by genuinely gorgeous women. Thus, the most beautiful women in the world are bisexuals, followed by homosexual women, straight women come in at a respectable third.”

 

            “Are you still saying I’m beautiful?” she asked.

 

            “Yes,” I said, “yes I am.”

 

            “Because I’m bi?”

 

            “Because you’re you,” I told her. “A photograph wouldn’t cover it, not all of it. You’d need to see and talk to you to see everything. Then you’d need to be able to touch you, just so you could be sure that you are real. What I’m saying is you’re obviously too beautiful to be anything else.”

 

            “I like that,” she said. “You know. You said you’re only good at women, but if you’re only going to be good at one thing it’s good that you’re this good.”

 

            “Thanks,” I allowed. “Although, I should tell you that I have subsequently found out that TV was a lying whore instead of a gentle motherly teacher and that movies were not to be trusted at all.”

 

            “Well, that spoils the whole thing,” she said.

 

            “Not really,” I said. “You’re still the most beautiful woman I know.”

 

            “Oh, well that’s okay then,” she laughed. “You’re pretty cute too. No wonder all those girls over there are fawning over you.”

 

            “But you see, that’s the reason why I’m nervous about things,” I told her.

 

            “You’re in love with Karen and Debbie,” she said.

 

            “Sort of, but I would really like to try and have a go with you,” I said. “I mean, try at a relationship.”

 

            “You’re not interested in fucking me then?” she asked, and the word sounded so obscene and disgusting from her voice that it somehow went all the way around and came out incredibly alluring. “I mean I was hoping you’d like to have a try at that.”

 

            “I’m very weak at the moment,” I said. “I’ll probably have some strength together by November. If I’m going to do it right I need to have my full strength.”

 

            “I don’t want to wait until November,” she said. “If I wait until November, you might decide you don’t want me, or you’ll be struck by lightning or choke to death on a turkey sandwich or something. You know how dry Thanksgiving turkey can be sometimes.”

 

            “I’m telling you,” I warned, “skinnier than you.”

 

            “I don’t care,” she said. “I saw you in the hospital a couple of days after you came out of that coma, I’m sure you’ve improved from that state.”

 

            “Well I can sit up and wipe my own butt for one.”

 

            “Well there you go,” she said. “I don’t think you get it. I’m not the only one you need to touch to see that they’re real.”

 

            “You know, I want to see you too,” I admitted. “I just want to be strong enough for you to visit.”

 

            “You want to be good enough, you mean,” she said. “But thank you for couching it in a way I haven’t heard a million times before.”

 

            “Did I say I wasn’t good enough for you?” I asked.

 

            “Yes,” she said. “Your confidence is shit, which is surprising when you consider how we women can’t seem to stop ourselves from leaping at you. I mean I’m ready to come over there so I can literally fling myself at you, and you’re busy trying to deflect me with talk about being weak. What do you think that does for a girl’s self-esteem?”

 

            “I don’t know how I feel about anyone or anything.” I said. “Or rather, I know how I feel, but I don’t know what to do about those feelings. No, I’m trying to sort out those feelings so I don’t hurt someone I care about.  I’m just trying to make sure I don’t do things wrong. I fucked things up in the past, I don’t want to do that again.”

 

            “Well, you’re not doing anything right now,” she admonished. “You have to risk getting things wrong if you hope to even try to get them right.”

 

            She had a point. So, what the hell? If she wanted to come see me, why not invite her? I wanted to see her, I wanted to kiss her, I wanted to be with her. I couldn’t bear the idea of not being with Debbie, and I loved Karen, but I also very much wanted to be with Alice. And to think all it took to get here was to be shot four times in the chest. Try it sometime, let me know if you get similar results.

 

            “You want to come over and see me for a few days?” I asked. “Maybe next week, if that’s not too early?”

 

            This time her laugh did resemble the clear tones of a set of small silver bells, but at least she accepted. You will excuse me though if I decide to keep that week to myself. It was not a week of sexual excess, orgies did not happen. It was nice though. The closest to a group thing that went down was when Debbie came over and the three of us went out to dinner. I noticed they spent a lot of the evening talking to each other like old friends, but that was as far as it went. It was a healing visit though, sometimes spending time face to face is important.

 

            At the end of a week though, she had to go back to D.C. and get back to work. I drove her to the airport, and while we were on I-94, she started trying to decide what had happened that week. I was still trying to work things out myself, so it was helpful to have her there.

 

            “Debbie and I talked for a while when you were sleeping,” she said as I pulled the Hudson onto the ramp.

 

            “Oh yeah?” I asked, almost wanting to say that I wasn’t sleeping, I was listening to girls giggle for five hours. “And did either of you tell the other to back off?”

 

            “No,” she shook her head and laughed in a way I wasn’t sure I liked. “It wasn’t like that. I asked her some questions, and she asked me some questions.”

 

            “Oh,” I said, and then started being a detective. “What sort of questions?”

 

            “It was girl talk,” she smiled. “Even if I told you, it would be meaningless because it was all in code.”

 

            “What sort of decisions did you come to then?” I asked.

 

            “That’s the problem,” she said. “We didn’t. She said she loves you, and that you love her. Then she said you two aren’t together.”

 

            “No,” I said,  “not right now.”

 

            “Are you going to be?”

 

            “What did she say?”

 

            “She said to ask you.”

 

            “Ah,” I said. “She would.”

 

            “Are you going to be together?” she asked.

 

            “I don’t know,” I said. “Are we going to be together?”

 

            “One of us would have to move. Quit our job or something,” she sighed and looked out the window. “I like my job.”

 

            “I wouldn’t ask you to move,” I said.

 

            “What are we going to be then?” she asked.

 

            “Oh shit,” I said glancing at her. “You’re going to ask me? I don’t even know what I am on my own.”

 

            “I mean this is either a kiss off, or you need to ask me to go steady.”

 

            “Steady?” I asked. “I haven’t heard steady since high school.”

 

            “It’s a time for high school things,” she looked at me with a meaningful glance I was supposed to interpret, but was completely inscrutable.

 

            “Would I move in with you?” I asked. “And what would I do for money?”

 

            “You’re a half-owner of a private detective company.” She said.

 

            “No,” I shook my head. “I signed it all over to her. It’s her company.”

 

            “You’re going to have to tell her that then,” she told me. “She said it’s half yours.”

 

            “She’s going to keep saying that I suppose,” I said. “And I guess she’ll keep acting like that’s how it is, but it isn’t.”

 

            “Okay.”

 

            “The point is that I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

 

            “When you do,” she said, “will you tell me?”

 

            “When I know,” I said, “I’ll call you and ask you out for drinks so we can talk about it.”

            “I thought you don’t drink,” she said.

 

            “I’ll take you out for one though,” I smiled. “Get you that screaming orgasm I promised when we first met.”

 

            “You still talking about drinks?”

 

            “Maybe,” I smiled.

 

 

August 30, 2010 Posted by | Fiction, Jack | | Leave a comment