AREA 47

SECTION 89:

COURTNEY, Chapter 19

“You can have her,” Blue informed her dad, from her perch on Reed’s lap, meaning Courtney.  “She’s lots better’n BTO.  Clutch!”

Courty said, “I won’t ask what BTO means.”

The ’Vette started moving around the leisurely curve of the long driveway——Blue steering & shifting——Reed stepped on it, after the gate, and they burned minimal rubber exiting onto the residential drive.

At the first light: “Hey Dad, when I’m moved in with you, can I get a haircut like hers?”

Three seconds.  “I’ll have to think about it.”

“I knew you’d say that,” Blue said with disgust.  But then she brightened.  “Navigator.  Where to?”

“Griffith Observatory.”

“The Telsa Coil!  Make ’em do the Telsa Coil.”  Courty assumed that Blue meant: Tesla Coil.

“I will,” Reed said.

“But where do we drop her off?” Blue asked.

“Forgot to tell you,” Reed said.  “You’re the chaperon.  See the ring on her finger?  We’re engaged.  But she’s afraid to be alone with me.  This is like a first date.”

The light changed to green, but the look Blue gave Courtney was pure gag-me-with-a-Valley-Girl-spinoff-product.  Then she swiveled her head around to look back at her dad.

“You guys are log cabin.  Clutch!”

The day turned into an absolutely tremendous high.  The chemistry between Courtney and Reed reacted powerfully, becoming hypnotic, making Courtney’s whole body feel erotic.

The three of them played a killer game of Truth Or Dare on the way to Griffith, on and off while there, and as they first drove away.

When Blue mischievously asked Courty what she REALLY, REALLY thought of Reed’s music, Courtney had to go for Dare.  Reed was driving.  A delivery truck had cut across their lane, moments earlier.  Blue told Courtney, “You’re dust, Lady.  Bare buns to this yuck on four wheels!”

“What?”

“Show ’im your bare butt!  Moon ’im.  Hurry, we’re passin’ ’im.”

“Now wait a minute,” Courtney said.  “I object!”

“Objection overruled,” Reed the pornographer gleefully yelled, as he accelerated.

Early dinner at Mother Bob’s on Sunset.  While Reed and Courtney argued Women’s Rights, Blue and Courtney played Nim.

Sweet & sour Cornish hen, carrots & string beans amandine, orange ambrosia, spicy gingerbread hearts.  Courty humored him: she would have preferred pepperoni pizza from the next-door take-out joint.

Reed’s favorite table.  Reed’s favorite brew: Anchor Steam.  The atmosphere was laid-back semi-chic; Courtney recognized Ralph Warren, a TV actor.  Courtney assumed that Mom would have been able to identify and drool over dozens, since the dress code was so obviously ‘Beverly Hills Slumming It’.

Reed, who wanted to know everything about her, got Courtney into talking about herself.  She found herself being remarkably candid and open.  She talked about her writing, about her poetry, about her struggle to find her ‘Voice;’ and the interminable struggle for publication and economic reward for her work.  Reed, in turn, told her quite a bit about his past.  Courtney was fascinated by some of his early hi-jinks from the Brashful days; the unexpurgated versions.

As if an unspoken conspiracy between father and daughter, Blue demanded to be taken home first, completely abdicating her chaperon duties.

And eventually Reed and Courtney were parked in front of Mom’s, across the street.

Engine off.

They were both silent.  It was a comfortable silence.

“I’ve had a lot of fun today,” Courtney said.

“Ditto.”

More comfortable silence.

“So let’s drive to Vegas and get married tonight,” Reed said.

More comfortable silence.

They were not touching.  They were just sitting there; soft neighborhood sounds murmuring, punctuated by some Hispanic kids playing out late far down the block.  But the feeling was cool and magical.

“I haven’t a thing to wear,” Courtney said.

Reed shifted his position on the seat; more focused upon her.  “Where would you like to be married?”

There were all kinds of cute things to say, but she just smiled and remained silent.  Then she sighed: this couldn’t go on forever.  She didn’t seem to be getting out of the car.

“Fiji,” she said.

“It can be arranged.”

Courtney looked at him.  She realized that she was not going to get out of the car.  She opened her mouth, and started to speak, but a wave of inhibition stilled her.  She pushed, and pushed, and PUSHED against the inhibition, finally saying, “Let’s go to your place.”  She looked away.  Those words: How hard they had been to say!

More silence.

Pleasure and danger.  The magic took on an element of spice, that made it more exciting, but less magical.

Reed said, “It sounds silly, I know, but I really feel as if I’ve lived my whole life, gone though all the shit that I’ve gone through, just so that I could eventually find you.  And be worthy of you . . . to be able to catch you when you came alone.”

“Please start the car and drive,” she said.

COURTNEY, Chapter 20
 

Copyright 2005 Area 47