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| Chapter 4 – Stacked Anchors |
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The funny thing about a dinner on a Friday night is that it can make or, just as easily, break your evening. Like it or not, dinner is a turning point, dinner can switch the tempo. Those who realize and accept this can play it their advantage. Those who don’t realize this have a sorry history of nighttime plans falling to pieces. Imagine if you went on an intimate date with your significant other. You’d most likely want to be in a restaurant environment that allowed the two of you to focus attention on one another. The restaurant lighting would be soft and affectionate. The table would be situated in a way where you were close to each other, allowing your world to be shut out from everyone else in the room. The music would be smooth – loud enough so you could feel the rhythm, but subtle enough that your one to one conversations could be carried even with just a glance, if need be. Finally, the actual meal you ate would be rich and warm. It would be the kind of dish where you could gently get lost in the ingredients, and the way it complimented your overpriced glass of Merlot. All of these elements within the restaurant would sweetly come together for you and your significant other. The result would be the two of you sharing an experience which would naturally lead the two of you to soon return home, only to seduce the pants off one another, and close out the night.
That’s all fine and dandy if you are, in fact, having a romantic dinner for 2. But things are quite different if you and your good time, late night, howl at the moon friends are trying to get some dinner only to act as a foundation for the evening. If you and your crew stumbled into a restaurant with hushed lighting and Sade’s Sweetest Taboo playing on the sound system, you’d be ruined. The sleepy atmosphere and the heavy portions would have killed whatever vibe and excitement you were brewing. That’s the problem with a lot of restaurants. They try to be everything to everyone - the mass romantics collide with those out to rev up every last second of their youth. The only way to avoid this tragedy is to know your spots.
Luckily for Trent and Marc, Sara knew her spots. She knew the places to take a date. She knew the places to take her girlfriends. And you can bet she knew the places to take her adorable and half-buzzed male friends on a Friday night. As the taxi cab took the trio closer to the pier, she got on the phone and called in a favor, resulting in a reservation at The Mitsu Bistro. The bistro was relatively new, meaning the place was filled with patrons and staff who were all about starting the weekend on the good foot. The boys treated Sara to an Asian-Fusion meal of some such variety, complete with pepperings of blue conversation and Simpson’s character impressions. They also treated her to numerous Dirty Martini’s… complete with extra olives, of course.
After dinner, the trio found themselves outside the restaurant trying to hail yet another taxi cab. As Marc began waving at passing vehicles Trent looked up to the skyline and noticed that Mother Nature was trying her best to convince the clouds to start pouring rain. Trent played with the zipper on his coat as he tried to stay warm. Trent also realized he was starting to really feel the effect of the Jauger shots the three of them devoured in lieu of desert.
“So explain to me again where we’re heading now?”, Marc inquired.
“It’s like I told Trent”, Sara replied, “A while back I became decent friends with this girl, Amanda. I met her at my gym, at that spin class I used to go to twice a week. She’s super cool, and even more laid back than our boy, Trent, here”, Sara paused to look at Trent still fumbling with his coat. “I guess Amanda decided that she hadn’t been to a decent party in ages, and so she’s decided to throw one at her place. She’s determined to show everyone who shows up a good time… you know… make sure that everyone meets lots of people, and make sure that everyone feels comfortable, and goes off like they should.”
“Hmmm… sounds good”, Marc commented
Trent cut them both off, “Sounds like a lot of pressure to have good time!”
Sara laughed, approached Trent, and zipped up his coat. She spoke in her cutest voice, “Ohhhhh Trent… don’t worry your pretty little head. You’ll have fun. You know there are gonna be lots of lovely ladies at the party. And how can they resist you, and all your charms?”
Trent and Sara were now both happily chuckling.
Sara turned to face both the boys, “And hey… besides… if for some reason if this thing is a total wash, we’ll just do what we always do…”
“You mean we’ll just stay in the kitchen, ignore everyone else, and entertain each other with obvious observations about the party and over the top impressions of everyone we meet??”
“Exactly”, Sara winked at Marc.
Trent finally caught the attention of a passing cab driver, he pulled over.
“Let’s go!”, Trent shouted to the others. He was so smitten with his cab getting abilities.
The 3 of them hopped into the cab. Marc instinctively took the front passenger seat. Trent and Sara slide across and into the back seat.
Marc greeted the taxi driver and asked him how his night had been so far. The driver told them the night was only beginning. Marc began to attempt to explain where they wanted to be driven to, but quickly realized that he had no idea where the house party was.
He turned to Sara in the back seat, “Uhhh… where’s this little function of yours?”
“Oh… it’s out in Aurora.”
Marc was shocked, “What?!? The suburbs are like 45 – 50 minutes away! This is gonna be the cab ride from hell!” He turned to the cabbie, “No offense, buddy.”
Before the cabbie could respond, Sara fired back, “I know darling, it’s a little far. But here’s what I suggest - Let’s make a pit stop at Trent’s place. We’ve got more than enough time. We’ll go there for a quick drink… plus you guys can change your clothes.”
Marc sarcastically scowled back at Sara, “What in the hell is wrong with what we’re wearing?!”
“Nothing, boys! But I mean… come on. We’re going to a party, you can relax a bit. The casual Friday inspired khaki pants are wonderful. But you know what?! We’re not at a photo shoot for the next Eddie Bauer catalogue. I think you’ll have more fun looking a bit more rock and roll and a bit less like you’re breaking in your new church clothes.”
Sara bit her lip, “Plus, I think between the drink he spilled on his leg at The Rountree, and the appetizer he painted on to his shirt at dinner, Trent could use a quick spruce-up.”
“Judge yourself!”, Trent mockingly replied. “No seriously, that sounds good to me. Trent, I’ve got a few of your outfits at my house from a couple weekends ago, we can piece something together. And… of course… have a drink or two. I’ve got a bottle of wine in the fridge with our names all over it!”
The taxi driver put his car in drive, hit the gas, and turned up the radio.
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Perhaps one of Trent, Sara, and Marc’s biggest flaws was that they could have a good time, anywhere, doing anything. Maybe this isn’t a bad thing, but it threw such a monkey wrench into any plans they made as a group. Trent actually was mistaken; he didn’t have a bottle of wine in the fridge with their names written all over it. He had two and a half bottles of wine with their names written all over it. Trent also forgot to mention that earlier in the week while looking for a Halloween costume at the Salvation Army; he ended up procuring an old school Nintendo Entertainment System, complete with a beat up shoebox filled with video game cartridges. The sudden chance for the trio to throw back into their elementary school age gaming ways was too tempting, and mini Kung-Fu tournament broke out. Sara kicked both their asses, big time.
It was almost eleven pm before they wrapped up their stop at Trent’s and arrived at the house party way out in Aurora. As they pulled up to the driveway, they noticed cars lined both sides of the street. A quick survey of these automobiles lead them to believe that they were all owned by guests of the party, and therefore it must have been packed. From the outside, the house looked massive, just like all the other houses in the neighborhood. Even the lot the house was situated on was huge, about twice as big as the other lots. Marc quietly wondered if Sara’s friend had perhaps won the lottery… twice… in the last week.
As the threesome climbed up the stairs and opened the front door, they were hit by a loud blast of noise. It felt like a bomb went off. The party was in full swing, Basement Jaxx was thundering from the living room stereo. The unlikely combination of garage beats and mariachi guitar samples fired up guests in the living room, resulting in an impromptu dance off. No one was really serious with their dance moves, rather everyone was simply trying to entertain and out-do each other. Trent and Marc exchanged glances and shook their heads.
Sara led the boys through the house while scanning the rooms for familiar faces. As they went by the living room and down the main hallway, they passed a countless number people intent on hanging out socializing. As they moved near each person, Sara would quickly say “hi” or “hello”. Each responded distantly, but accordingly. Marc and Trent looked around at the house like criminals casing a bank before a big robbery. Sara couldn’t find a single soul she knew, and was starting to think that maybe she wasn’t in the right place. Luckily for Sara, there weren’t too many parties going down in Aurora that night, and despite what she may have thought, she was in the right place at the right time. Soon enough a familiar voice cried out from across the room.
“Sara!”. It was Amanda, the host of tonight’s main event.
“Helloooooo, crazy girl! We were worried we were in the wrong place!”, Sara giggled as she replied.
Amanda smiled, “No way guys, you’re right where you belong. It’s been kinda crazy here all night. I think people are having a good time. I’m having a blast!”, she stopped to focus on opening the bottle in her left hand, “I’m so glad you could make it!”. Amanda quickly sized up the two boys acting as bookends around Sara.
“Oh, I nearly forgot, allow me to introduce you to my friends, this is Marc…”
“Nice to meet you… I think Sara’s mentioned you to me before”, Amanda coyly smiled.
Sara continued, “And this is our super-friend, Trent. He’s a lush, but he’s the wind beneath our wings…”
Trent chimed in before Sara could make him look anymore like a juvenile, “Amanda… how are ya? It’s cool to meet you”, Trent paused and looked at Marc and Sara, “Ignore these two… they’re the real lushes. Take Princess Sara here for example… if you feed her more than two glasses of red wine, her teeth will turn a lovely shade of purple, she’ll begin to drool like a frat boy, and soon enough she’ll fall right off her bar stool. Her inner beauty just radiates, don’t’ you think?!”
Amanda was now laughing hysterically. Trent tried his best to figure out if she was laughing at Sara, or at his jokes. It didn’t really matter though, Trent was just happy that this girl was under the impression that he was the fun loving guy of the group. Historically, this was Trent’s most successful method used to win over the ladies. His track record of using flirting heavily disguised as humor was amazing. Based on his first look at Amanda, he had to bring out his A-game tonight.
And why wouldn’t Trent want to make a move on Amanda? She was stunning. Not in the super model capacity, but in a sporty and feminine way. She was a smaller girl; no more than five foot four in height. The spin classes she took with Sara must have paid off, her body was graceful and symmetrical and curvy in all the right places. Amanda wore a sleeveless fitted red top, which showed off a pair of tanned shoulder and arms. As she moved the details of her biceps triceps would gently reveal themselves. Trent continued to watch Amanda, who was still laughing. She moved back and fourth as she giggled away at Sara’s expense. Her shoulder length blonde hair fell across her face, as she leaned forward. As she moved back, Trent noticed the way her eyes were framed perfectly by the black rimmed glasses she wore. Yep, Trent had decided it was on. Hastily he made a mental note to not go overboard with the drinks so he could remain smooth and hopefully coherent. After a quick recall of the events that had already taken place tonight, Trent realized this might not be even remotely possible.
Amanda grabbed Sara by the hand, “Come you guys, let me give you the tour and introduce you to a few friends.”
Amanda led the group room to room. The house was huge and far way fancy looking for anyone in their 20’s. Every room seemed to be larger than the next. The nice thing about the design of the house was that it was very open, you easily could stand in one room and see what was going on in the next. However, the trio weren’t so focused on the architecture of the house, they were quietly observing the party goers around the house. It seemed like every one was doing something different. There were all sorts of little cliques in each room. There were a group of typical college boys, who were intent to do nothing but get hammered and have a few laughs. And judging by the way they were going off, and the way one of them dropped a full can of Coors on the floor, they were right on target. There was also a group of excessively dressed up girls sitting in the corner. It seemed like they were trying their best to look unimpressed like they weren’t having a good time, but in all actuality, they were having a great time, and trying their dammedest to catch the eyes of the 3 boys playing DJ with Amanda’s CD collection. Just like The Roundtree, and The Mitsu Bistro earlier tonight - this party had a cool vibe, there was something for everyone, and it looked like it was going to go ‘till all hours of the morning.
Amanda quickly finished her tour and led the group to the kitchen. The kitchen was the hub of activity. Because the kitchen opened into the living room there were a lot of people constantly moving in and out. Amanda paused and then quickly tried to make eye contact with a passer-by.
“Craig… Craig!”
“Oh hey, Amanda. What’s up?!”
“Everyone, this is my brother, Craig. Craig, I want you to meet a few of my friends. This is Sara, Trent, and Marc.”
Craig reached out his hand to greet the three of them. Craig was a big guy. He was almost 6 and a half feet tall, and his beefy frame probably almost weighed 275 pounds. He was a decent looking guy though, and seemed to be all smiles.
“Hey guys, welcome to the party. Hope you’re having a good time”, he paused to look at Marc, “Dude, you look so familiar.”
“I was just thinking the same”, Marc scratched his head, “Did you take that shitty ‘Intro To Astronomy’ course in university?”
“Yeah… I did. I remember now, you were in that class too. In fact, I think I remember borrowing your homework a time or two”, Craig was now laughing hysterically loud, “Buddy, you’re alright, come on, join us at the table here, we’re gonna play some cards and shoot the shit.” Craig then reached for the case of beer in Marc’s hands, put it in the fridge, and opened and offered a bottle back to him. Craig sensed there was only one correct answer to his invitation, “Yeah, man… let’s play some cards”.
Sara had no intentions of sitting and settling down for the evening, “Ok card sharks, have fun, I’m gonna walk around with Amanda.”
Trent quickly piped up, “and I’ll be joining you girls too!” Sara wrinkled her nose in pretend disgust, Amanda smiled.
Craig pulled a chair up to the table for Marc. As Marc sat down he noticed someone had started to play an Oasis CD on the stereo. He tried to identify what song was playing, but Craig quickly dragged Marc into a conversation, forcing his attention from the evening’s soundtrack.
Although Craig and Marc barely knew each other, Craig’s excessively social behavior allowed them to catch up like old friends. Craig brought Marc up to speed on his life since astronomy class. Craig talked about how he finished his degree and opened a gym, and how he was living his dream of being paid to work out and look at fit girls. Craig went on to explain how his parents retired, bought a sail boat, and left them the house they were partying in, and substantial start up loan for the gym. Craig explained how he and his sister, Amanda, were now running the gym. After a few rounds of cards and Corona, Craig went a bit Tony Robins on Marc. Craig gushed how he was amazed at what he and his sister were capable of when they pushed themselves, and did what they wanted to do, not what was safe to do. Marc avoided discussing the inner workings of his life. The last thing he wanted to think about right now was the office. Craig, focused on the hand of cards he was dealt round after round. Perhaps Craig’s inability to mix business and pleasure was a blessing because he was doing awfully well at the table. He’d won 7 of the last 10 rounds. If this was Las Vegas, the Pit Boss would have already come over and comp’ed him a fancy suite for the evening. However, this was a house party in the suburbs, there was no Pit Boss, and they were only playing for drinks. And let’s face it, when you’re winning at drinking games, you’re really loosing, because you’re not required to partake in the drinking.
Luckily for Marc, the table was filled with hooligans who were intent on everyone carrying on regardless of how well they held their poker face. To Marc’s right hand side were two girls who were set on entertaining everyone around them with their awful / spontaneous karaoke. What ever was pumping from the living room stereo they’d sing loudly along with, regardless of weather or not they actually knew the words. Marc sat in silent horror as they reduced the Oasis CD to chants of “Whaaaaaaaaaaaaats the stoooooory moooooooooorning glory, meeeeeyeahhhhhh”. The girls did turn out to be angels though, they included Marc in their sing song games. Every time a song came on that they didn’t recognize, they turn to Marc and demand he identify it and tell them the words to the chorus. Marc was good at this kind of thing, the girls drunken entertainment turned into a chance for Marc to drop knowledge about all types of musical trivia.
Also, sitting at the table with Marc and Craig were two guys who seemed to happily be in their own world as they played cards. The pair chatted back and fourth at a hurried pace, their conversations seemed to be a miss-mash of inside jokes, one liners from old movies, and language that almost seemed made up. One of the boys had a running joke he patiently waited to set loose on anyone who passed the table. He kept an unlit cigarette pursed between his lips, as he played cards and spoke gibberish with his friend. As a house guest walked by the table and saw the unlit cigarette, they would instinctively offer a light. He would then look up from the deck of cards, pause for dramatic effect, and then state very loudly, “I don’t smoke!”. The puzzled look on the victims face seemed to be priceless to the pair of boys, causing them to double over in laughter. At first the others at the table couldn’t figure out the two boys at all. But after a few rounds – of cards, drinks, and the cigarette trick – the entire table found themselves screaming the “I don’t smoke” punch line in unison over and over.
Marc suspended his focus from the cards, and noticed time was flying, he was having a fantastic time at the table. He was beginning to feel comfortable and entertained with the game of cards, his new friends, and they drinks they kept feeding him. Just as he made this observation, the table started to clear out, the karaoke girls went to refresh their drinks, and the cigarette boys folded their hands and called it a night.
Craig turned to Marc, “Uhh… apparently we’re not so cool anymore?”
“It would see that way, either that or we really are card sharks. Maybe we should pick up and take this party to the casino!”
Craig was bellowing out laughs yet again, “Yeah… maybe we should, although I don’t think I’m gonna be able to convince the other 40 people in the house”, he looked around the room and caught the eye of a few party goers, they noticed his glances and walked over to the table. Before Craig could offer introductions, one of them spoke up.
“Marc?!, Is that you?!”
Marc cursed his rotten luck. He was now eye to eye with a pretty little girl. A pretty little girl who knew who he was, and he had no clue who she was. Marc tried his best to play detective in the 3 seconds he had to respond before things becoming awkward. The girls seemed to be smiling… this was a good thing. But what was their connection? She didn’t seem like a familiar face from the office, and all of his good friends were in the next room. He had no clue who she was and responded how any man in his situation would…
“Uhhhh… Hi! [awkward pause] How are you?!”
“You have no idea who I am, do you?”
“Well… uhh… that’s not entirely… you see…”
Marc placed his head in his hands and then back up, “I’m sorry. You’re right, I have no idea who you are. I’m an idiot.”
To his surprize the mystery woman didn’t lash out, and instead began to laugh nervously, “Marc, I’m Lauren, Lauren Miller. Rachel Miller is my older sister.”
“Ohhhhhh! Ok, wow… this makes sense”, Marc was now blushing.
Marc hadn’t seen Rachel Miller since university. Rachel graduated with Marc. Prior to their convocation the pair had countless classes and courses together. There was a group of about 10 of them that all spent their time while in school bingeing on chocolate covered coffee beans, and studying late into the night together. The crew of 10 were very tight, yet after school finished, they all parted ways, not intentionally, but just because their lives seemed to take them down separate paths. Rachel was the leader of the study group, always rallying the troops when they were fading, always reminding everyone of their strengths, and encouraging everyone to press on. Marc hadn’t seen Rachel in almost 2 years, and hadn’t even spoken to her in at least a year. And now her younger sister, Lauren, was standing in front of him. Despite the fact that the city was huge, Marc was now beginning to realize the world was really a small place.
Marc stood up to hug Lauren, she navigated her way around Craig and leaped forward.
“How are you, Lauren? You’ve… uhhh… grown up. You look great. How long has it been since I saw you?”
Lauren pretend to count on her fingers, “I think it’s been at least 6 years”
“What? Really?”
“Yeah! Really.”
Marc and Lauren were still hugging, Craig felt obliged to spoil the moment. “Come on you two, less touching, and more sitting down to play cards.”
The pair separated, Marc turned to the table where the new group was now assembled and being dealt cards.
Craig continued, “Come on we’ve got a good group here, let’s play some strip blackjack!”
Lauren called his bluff, “Yeah… we’re gonna pass. First of all, you can’t go making stuff up like ‘strip blackjack’. It’s called ‘strip poker’, and I know how it would end up – a bunch of sorry guys sitting around in their fusty old boxer shorts. And second, I need to have a smoke. Marc, weather he likes it or not, is gonna join me and keep me company.” She then grabbed Marc by the hand and said, “Come on, let’s catch up… do you smoke?”
Craig raised an eyebrow, “I don’t smoke.”
Craig was practically on the floor laughing.
Lauren led Marc outside to the back patio. It was late in the evening and the rain was pouring heavily. It was cold, Marc and Lauren huddled politely together under the shelter of the overhang of the roof. Light from the living room illuminated select parts of the patio.
Marc spoke as Lauren sparked her cigarette, “So…. What’s up? What’s new in the last 6 years?”.
She smiled, exhaled smoke, “Oh not much.”
“Ha, ha, very funny… not much.”
Lauren looked up at the night sky, “Let’s see… where to begin… I don’t know… I’m in school right now. So my life consists of studying, working, studying, and one in a while I treat myself to sleeping”.
“Bah… Don’t’ worry about it. Sleep is so overrated, anyway. What are you taking?”
“Journalism”, she raised her head to look at Marc.
“Journalism… really? Fuck, I’d have loved to taken that. I always had these romantic notions of what it would be to be a journalist. Trying to show your readers the world, trying to persuade your audience using only the written word. It just seems so cool.”
Lauren exhaled again, this time while laughing, “Marc, you’re insane... there’s nothing romantic about it at all. It’s grunt work, and long nights, and English professors who don’t really speak English.”
“Still… I can dream.”
“Yes sir, you can. Although, I think you’d be better off dreaming about finding a unicorn or something”, Lauren continued to chuckle, “So what are you up to these days?”
“Oh… I’m just working… I do project management at an engineering firm.” Marc trailed off going noticeably quiet as he spoke.
“I see”, Lauren sensed it was time to change the subject, “What about writing, Marc?”
“What?”
“What about writing? You know, it’s kind of a strange synchronicity type thing that I saw you here tonight… I spoke with my sister this week. I was bitching to her about how difficult a few of my composition classes are, and surprise-surprize, your name came up.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. She told me that you took all kinds of English, and composition, and debate, and journalism type courses for fun while you were in school. Is that true?”
“Yeah… it’s true, some people waste their junior year taking basket weaving and chocolate making courses. I spent my time taking poetry classes. I tend to keep quiet about that.”
“Why on earth would you keep so tight lipped about it? My sister told me that you used to ace all those courses, and that you actually received a scholarship. My sister also told me that you almost switched degrees a few times, but never went through with it. Is that true as well?”
“Yeah.”
“And…”
“And nothing… I just didn’t seem like the right thing to do. You know?”
“No, I don’t know!”, Lauren noticed Marc was staring at his shoes. “Look darling, I’m not here to change the world tonight. All I’m asking is this... I have a composition term paper due in a few weeks, it’s for one of my senior classes, and one of those non-English speaking English teachers will be grading it. I’d love it if you could review what I’ve written and give me some pointers.”
Marc looked up, “Oh sure… I’d love to help you. Anytime.” Marc, began to shift the focus of their conversation as he noticed Lauren light another cigarette, “So… whatever happened to your sister?”
“She lives in Europe, Spain actually. She moved there about 6 months ago with her boyfriend…”
As Lauren began to dive into all the details, the back door opened, and again, as the door opened the living room stereo came thundering across. This time Cat Stevens was unexpectedly cranked out. Marc looked towards the door; Trent was now standing in front of them.
“Dude, there you are… I’ve been looking for you for the last 15 minutes. What are you doing out in the rain? Come it’s time to go, the taxi’s here. Our dearest Sara seems to have had her fill and is sleeping on the couch. It’s not a pretty sight.” Without waiting for a response Trent went back in the house and woke Sara.
Marc turned to Lauren, “Uhh… I guess I have to go. Hey… it was great seeing you. I hope school goes well for you”. Marc began to awkwardly turn to walk away. As he turned his back to her, Lauren playfully tripped up Marc’s feet with hers. Marc turned back to face Lauren.
“Hey… I wasn’t kidding, I want to see you again. You know for the school help and stuff. Maybe, you should give me your phone number.”
Marc realized how dumb he now looked, “Of course… of course.” Marc handed Lauren one of his business cards.
“Wow, a business card, how personal!”, Lauren laughed.
“Look I know, it’s a bit of a dorky move, but the number on there is the easiest way to get a hold of me.”
Lauren bit her lip, and leaned forward to hug Marc. They said goodnight, and Marc went back inside to find Trent and Sara. He met up with the pair out front of the house as Trent was loading Sara into the taxi. Sara came-to and looked at Marc.
“Hey… you didn’t leave!”
“No, of course not!”
“Marc, I’m so proud of you…”
“Why?”
“Because you didn’t pull a Batman!”
“Oh Jesus… that again.”
Sara broke out into song, performing her best end of the night rendition of the theme to Batman. Marc crawled into the back of cab with her. Trent closed the cab door behind them. Marc squinted at Trent’s forearm, and noticed Amanda – 415 606 4455 was scribbled across his arm in green marker. The three were now in the cab and heading home.
Marc turned to Trent, “Hey man how long ‘till we get back to my place?”
“About 45 minutes.”
“Cool”, Marc commented as he looked out the window, “Wake me up when we get there.”
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