Jazzy Girl Ch. 6

A gaggle of white swans honked noisily in the pond, which was actually a plastic children's pool ringed by an assortment of foliage and rocks for an "authentic" look, though where in the wild swans swim in plastic Power Rangers pools I have no idea. Homely girls in horrid orange and white taffeta gowns that threatened to eat them were escorted around by pimply faced ushers in powder blue tuxedos. Brazen squirrels leaped onto serving trays, snatching bread and nuts, and spilling martinis and white whine spritzers. The bride and groom, both blanched and dull looking, were arguing with the caterer about the aesthetic difference between chocolate covered cherries and white chocolate covered cherries, and how he was ruining their special day, just ruining it!

I hate weddings.

The New Blue News was booked, last minute, to work the reception of an outdoor wedding in Jersey. The bride's parents had turned their backyard into a kitschy wedding theme park with biting swans, wilting floral arches, moldy red carpeting and white doves that escaped and flew away an hour before the ceremony.

We were stuck on a couple of shaky risers next to the tool shed, under a maple tree which dropped heavy, golden leaves on us all afternoon. We played lots of Sinatra, Big Band, and great but overdone stuff like "As Time Goes By". The things you do for money. Sheesh.

There were three young girls in particular who kept bugging me to do some rap numbers, and giggling and making faces every time I said, "Sorry we don't that." Actually, it got to be a fun, flirty kind of thing after a while. I've been onstage enough to know when young girls find me attractive, and these kids were definitely interested. But girls at that age don't hand you phone number, they bug you with dumb requests and make faces. So I started making faces back, and even promised them one rap number later if they got me a beer. Off they went to the bar and, with much furious pointing towards the stage, convinced the bartender that the drink was, indeed, for an adult. They returned with their prize like Dorothy and friends with the witches broom, demanding their reward. "Later." I said, grabbing the beer and launching into "Summer Wind".

"Awwwww." they groaned, making more faces.

One of the girls was named Mindy. She was the Bride's sister, a flower girl, who was allowed to wear a very pretty little shift, instead of the horrible taffeta, which was a good thing because she was a cute teeny thing, just eighteen, freshly scrubbed, with white teeth and shiny skin and braided hair surrounded with a laurel of flowers. She was very toasty to look at, and I needed some sort of diversion because the rest of the day pretty much sucked.

See, Julie and I were fighting.

It had been a week since making love at her place. Julie and Christie had talked things out (though I don't think she ever told Christie about hiding in the closet and watching her blow me to heaven), and I decided to pretty much avoid the flat altogether. So I gave Julie a key to my place and we spent the next several days there, eating meals together, doing crossword puzzles, and trying hard to have normal, private sex. She was good about making sure I "had my fun" in bed, but no way was I able to get her, in any way, "off". I was patient with her, but she wasn't as patient with herself, and cursed and screamed at her "Goddamn stupid body!" every day. I was beginning to think that she didn't see much of a future in our relationship.

And that was sad, because every day I grew more and more in love with her. Her music was complicated, marvelously mathematical and precise, but edgy and unpredictable at the same time, much like she was. I wrote lyrics to many of her old pieces, and it was the best stuff I'd ever done. I was in awe of her talent as a composer, and as a performer. Her voice and stage persona were electrifying. And beyond all that, she was a smart conversationalist, and could give an opinion on any subject. She was brash and shy, smart about the world and dumb about herself; she was a concert of contradictions. Pure jazz. My Jazzy Girl. And for four vibrant (though passionless) days we were inseparable.

Then Bonnie called.

Bonnie! Whom I had wildly fucked that first night I met Julie. Bonnie, who also craved public sex. Whose body was a river of erotic wetness. Funny, crazy, lovely Bonnie! I thought I'd never hear from her again. Not after what I did to her sweet little bottom, in her apartment, with her fiancé watching from the street below.

But there she was, on the other end of the phone, telling me that she wanted to meet me, Sunday night, on top the Empire State Building, at night. She wouldn't say what is was about, only that she wanted to see me. I remembered our conversation just a few weeks earlier when I told her I'd never been to the top and would love to see the view, late at night, but that I would only go if taken, for "an event" I think I said. What could she have in mind?

She wouldn't say. She just wanted me to come. And, like the idiot I was, I said, "Yes."

I had to tell Julie, I just did. I tried to play it all cool and natural, and convince her that nothing was going to happen, but Julie became unreasonable, and left the apartment, chucking my key at me. I hadn't told her everything about my relationship with Bonnie, but I knew she could tell that it was pretty hot and heavy going, and she was obviously jealous.

The sex thing was definitely hanging Julie up. I thought about exploring the exhibitionist side of Julie, like I had with Bonnie, but I still didn't understand the whole fetish, and hoped that she and I could work things out behind closed doors. But it wasn't working, and Julie was torturing herself, sure that she was some sort of freak. No wonder she blew up when I told her I wanted to see an old girlfriend.

She wouldn't talk to me, and we didn't even see each other again until jumping on the bus together to get to the wedding gig. We sat in separate seats and didn't say a word to each other all the way out Jersey.

After a flaccid first set we took a break, and I tried to talk to her. She stopped me and said, "Look, we know where this is going, so let's just let it go, okay?" and walked over to the bar with the rest of the band.

Well, damn it, I tried. What more was I supposed to do? Was I supposed to lose my mind like the Mad Cracker and start shooting fire-works all over the city just to prove the size of my affection?

Pissed now I grabbed a beer, walked the other way, across the yard, and disappeared into the garage which the family has converted into a playroom for their kids. The walls were painted red, blue and yellow. It had a large Sesame Street rug and hundreds of toys, board games, hula hoops, and bikes and shit thrown around. The place looked like Pee-Wee's Fun House. It set away from the house, in the back, and had an entry door and windows which looked out over the yard. I plopped into a big bean bag chair which crushed and sank as I sat, hefted my beer, and sulked.

Out the tiny window I could see Julie across the yard downing a glass of wine and throwing bread for the miserable swans. She looked pretty miserable herself.

I finished the beer and was about to go for another when I heard someone say, "Oooo! Sitting on duty! I'm telling!"

I turned around to see that my teenie groupies had followed me into the garage, including Mindy, the cutie, the flower girl with the floral laurel. "I'm telling!" she repeated.

"I'm on break." I said, "And yes, I'll a sing rap song for God's sake!"

"Ask him!" one girl giggled. They all shoved each other around, whispering, and sneaking little smiles at me. Finally, Mindy stepped forward and said, "You know that girl in your band with the big boobs?"

The other girls all giggled at the word "Boobs." "Mindy!" they chided.

"Yeah. What about her?" I asked.

"Okay," said Mindy, rolling her eyes, and chewing some gum, "Is she, like, your girlfriend?"

"Why?" I asked.

"Because," said one of the other girls laughing, "Mindy wants to go out with you!"

"Shut-up!" squealed Mindy, smacking her friends on the shoulder. "I'm serious!"

I looked out the window again. Julie was talking to one of the ushers, a tall, goofy-looking kid who'd had his eye on her all day.

"We're kind of broken up." I said. "So I'm free."

"Oooooo Mindy!" the girls teased.

"I am so going to kick your butts!" said Mindy, turning a bright red.

I stood up and walked over to them. They all retreated a bit. I was a good foot taller than they were. "Don't you think I'm too old for you all?" I said in my best adult voice.

"We're Seniors" said Mindy.

"Just." I said.

"My mom is ten years younger than my Dad." said another girl, hiccuping.

"Lisa's drunk!" squealed one girl.

"Oh screw you, Terry, I am not!" said Lisa, hiccuping again. The girls burst out laughing.

"You been sneaking some of the champagne?" I asked.

"My brother got us a bottle." said Mindy. "He's one of the ushers. That's him."

I looked out the window at the tall kid who was talking to Julie.

"Don't those tuxedos suck?" said Mindy.

"I like your belt." said Lisa, reaching and fondling my buckle.

"Lisa!" said Mindy, giggling.

"What?" said Lisa, really having no idea what the problem was.

"Don't grab his belt. God!" said Terry.

Lisa dropped her hand, suddenly aware of what she was doing. "Oh God!" she said, laughing. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright, you can look at it." I said.

"I like it, too." said Mindy, quickly, hoping for a turn.

"Go ahead." I said.

Mindy reached out and rubbed the buckle, which was shaped like a musical note. Her fingers were tiny, with short, painted nails. "Ooo, nice." she said, stroking the buckle. "Are these leather pants?"

"Yes." I said. "But I think they're too tight on me."

Mindy shook her head. "Nu-uh. They look great."

"So." said Terry, laughing. "You guys going out?

Mindy dropped her hand away from my buckle and said, "I swear I am just kidding you guys! God!"

"Oh she so loves you!" laughed Lisa.

"That's it!" said Mindy, snorting, "You guys are so lame! I am moving back to Chicago! I hate you!"

Out the playroom window I could see the band taking to the stage, ready for the second set. "Okay." I said, "I'll try to do your rap song now. But don't expect much!"

"Yea!" they shouted, following me back to the stage, hooting and shooting like my own private cheer-leading squad.

"I have a request." I said to Tyler, as I hopped up onto the stage. "Can you give me some kind of a rap beat?"

"Sure." said Tyler, knocking out an easy rhythm on the drums, and I improvised a silly rap song.

"Her name is Mindy,
From the Windy city,
She sure looks pretty,
And for her I sing this stupid rap ditty,
Uh-huh! Uh-huh! Uh-huh!"

The girls screeched with joy, pushing and shoving Mindy around and teasing her until she turned a beet red.

"Her friends are lame,
'Cause they're all the same,
I forget their names,
But they drink too much Champagne,
Uh-huh! Uh-huh! Uh-huh!"

I improved a couple of more verses and finished to good-natured applause from the crowd, squeals from the girls, and some very strange looks from the band.

"Okay," I said, chugging down another beer, feeling no pain really no longer caring about the Bride's request list, "Let's have some fun." I launched into "Hoop Girl", and the band gleefully followed. We finished to great applause, and several corny loud "Bravos!" from Mindy who sat on her Daddy's lap. He, and all the other adults, seemed to enjoy the second set, as we went from one original tune to the next. All our new stuff. Julie's music and my lyrics. We finished with a kick-ass version of "Jazzy Girl" which Julie really tore into, sending an electric thrill through all the powder-blue tuxedo boys.

Julie and I clicked on stage, like we always did, but as soon as the set was over it was brick wall city, dude. Julie just wouldn't give me any truck. She wouldn't let me explain that I had no intentions about Bonnie. She wouldn't let me say that maybe I was an idiot for agreeing to see her, or that maybe I'd call it off. I couldn't say anything. Looking back I realized that only thing I could have said, and should have said, was what was in my heart, "I love you."

But I was too pissed, and getting too drunk, to think clearly. It was over with Julie, and I didn't give a fuck about anything any more.

So after the set we split again. Julie went to throw crumbs at the poor swans, and I grabbed another beer. Most of the guests went inside the house to get their dinner, some thin roast beef and hard potatoes, and, of course, the horrific white chocolate strawberries.

The band went to eat, but I wasn't hungry. I was in a weird mood, thrilled at the set, but still pissed at Julie for not trusting me, pissed at Bonnie for calling and starting this whole issue, and, I think pissed again at Julie about her frigidity. I hated to admit it, but I was taking it personally that she and I couldn't have sex alone. I just didn't get this whole exhibitionist thing.

So I grabbed my beer and went back the garage playroom to hide and sulk. I stared out the window and saw Mindy, alone, searching for me. She saw my face in the window, and came inside.

"You were so great." she said, stepping into the dusty garage. She seemed a little nervous around me, stammering and not knowing what to do with her hands. She nonchalantly poked around the playroom, picking a few toys here and there, finally settling on a jump rope, and attempted a few jumps. "You really were so funny. No doubt! Everyone is talking about it. It was so funny, though our moms are yelling at us because of the champagne."

"She's right." I said. "You should stick to beer."

"Can I have a sip?" she said, and I handed her my bottle, which seemed to big for her little fist. She took out her bubble-gum, and took a sip. It must have been too bitter for her because a bit dribbled out of her mouth as she pulled it away in distaste. I pulled out my shirt and dabbed her mouth with the end. "Thanks. Yuk." she said. "You actually like that stuff?"

"Yep." I said, leaving my shirt untucked, and taking a big swig. It was my sixth beer that day.

Mindy seemed nervous, and kept playing with the toys, kicking over some blocks, riffling some cards, chewing and popping her gum mindlessly. She was desperately searching for something to say or do. Without her friends egging her on she felt adrift. I thought again how pretty she was. She looked younger than eighteen. She had a child face, a lovely, lithe body just filling out, and her charmingly arranged hair, braided on top her head, and crowned with wildflowers. Her eyes were moist with infatuation.

Eager to keep to the conversation going, she came up with "Um, can I see your belt buckle again?"

I knew she wasn't that interested in my buckle, but this was her way of reinitiating a physical contact that we'd had earlier. In her mind this was a safe, familiar way to be intimate.

"Sure." I said.

She reached out and fondled the buckle. "It's so cool" she said, not really having anything else to say. "You should tuck your shirt in."

"I'm too tired," I said wearily. Out the window I saw Mindy's brother trying to wrangle another drink from the bartender. Somehow, knowing that her brother was right there, right outside the window, gave me a thrill. I don't know what the hell came over me. Something to do with being pissed at Julie, mad that it was all over, and way too drunk. And, there was something else. I think was excited with the idea of being intimate with this young, attractive girl, with her brother was so close. Had I caught the exhibitionist fever? I looked down at my pulled out shirt tail. "You do it." I blurted out to Mindy, not really thinking.

Mindy hesitated, then pushed my shirt back into my pants, first just tucking it under the waistband, then pulling my belt away from my stomach and making room to push it in further. I kept looking out the window, pretending not to feel anything, when secretly I was thrilled. Mindy's brother only had to look up, and he might see his sister standing very close to me. My heart started pounding, and I knew I didn't want this feeling to stop. I felt scared, but powerful. And aroused.

Mindy got the last of the shirt in. Her whole hand was inside my pants. She was about to pull it out, when I grabbed her hand and held it there.

"What are you doing?" she asked, knowing what I was doing.

"Isn't that your brother?" I asked, ignoring her question.

Mindy started to pull her hand away, but was distracted by my question. She looked out the window. Her brother was outside walking around, munching on a chicken leg, sipping his booty of beer, checking out the band instruments.

"Yeah. Barry." she said.

"He older than you?" I asked.

"A year." she said.

"He tease you a lot?" I asked.

"Yeah. He can be a doofus." she answered.

While we stood there, looking at doofus Barry, pretending not to be in any kind of actual contact, I pushed Mindy's hand down into my pants.

I didn't know what the hell I was doing. I was a little pissed, a lot drunk, and suddenly very, very turned on. I couldn't help myself. Suddenly I wanted to deflower this kid in front of the whole wedding assemblage, particularly her older brother. I honestly didn't think I'd go that far, but I was running on instinct here, and couldn't, or wouldn't, stop. The only thing that would have stopped me is if Mindy had screamed or run away, or even pulled her hand out of my pants.

But she didn't do either of those things. Actually, she went so white that she couldn't move. She had her hands inside a man's pants. A real man! And a cute one! Who had sung a song just for her! Hell yes this was dangerous, but this doesn't happen to a girl every day!

It was a tight fit, so I removed my own hand, and left hers there. She started to cautiously explore the mysterious confines of my pants, brushing about the soft leather, scraping against the zipper, slipping under the elastic underwear waistband, searching through the folds of tucked-in shirt to the taught skin of my hairy belly. Her index finger pushed into my belly button while her hand hovered above my steadily growing cock.

"Look at Barry." I said. "I think he's hitting on Julie."

She was nervous, and didn't want to talk. As long as I looked out the window she had the illusion that I didn't know what she was doing. It was a seductive lie, and she took advantage of it, wiggling her fingers around, reaching further down, until they tickled the head of my cock. Upon touching my penis she froze, startled, unsure of how to continue.

I kept talking. "God! She pissed me off the other day. I'm just so mad at her." I was sounding like a pre-teen, all emotion and petulance.

Mindy stared out at her brother, handing Julie a plate of food. "He's a dork." she said, barely able to get any air out.

"Does he treat you like a kid?" I asked.

"He calls me Little Princess." she replied, resting her fingers now on my cock, freezing, registering the moment, the feel, the experience.

"I don't think you're a kid." I said, unbuckling my pants, slowing pulling down the zipper. I could hear her breath quicken. We both continued to stare out the window. I leaned forward, ostensibly to get a better look. "You seem pretty grown-up to me." With the increased room in my pants, and by leaning forward, I had pushed my cock straight up into her palm.

Her eyes started darting all over the backyard, looking for parents, friends, police, anyone who might catch us. She didn't do much with her hand but hold my cock. There really wasn't enough room, and she frankly didn't know what else to do.