Page 2 of The Leaves In Autumn
What does she have on? The schoolgirl plaid short skirt and white turtleneck looks like some guy’s idea of sexy. I suppose it is. But the knee-high white socks? Where did she find those? The wave she sends is not returned. A pissed look is all I have to offer. She has a comeback.
“For your information my friend’s birthday is today too. This is all for him.”
“Oh yeah? What’s his name? Quick!”
“Channing.” She says it innocently and without missing a beat.
I turn into the driveway, but put the car in reverse, ready to back the hell out.
“Barbra, you should have told me. I’m not in the mood to party with some random guy you’re dating. I never heard you talk about the dude. You two have fun. I’ll call tomorrow.”
She points to a spot.
“Park right here. We are the only two guests. Channing couldn’t make it. Come on.”
“He couldn’t make his own party? Dump him.”
“Absolutely not! He is too sexy for his shirt.”
Funny. I put it in Park and turn off the engine.
She disconnects. But her red lipsticked mouth keeps talking as she gets within an inch of my window. One of the huge gold hoops she wears taps the glass.
“We can have some fun, Aargon. I realize you are generally against the idea but make an exception. Please. I made a fantastic meal. Hungry?”
As I exit the SUV with the wine, she is already walking up the porch steps. The pleated skirt and her big poofy hair bounce in rhythm. At least I get a good view of a nice ass for my forty-eighth. She gives the bunch of multi-colored balloons a punch as she passes, sending them dancing. Music reaches from inside the house. I know this one.
“So sexy it hurts,” she states matter-of-factly, over a shoulder.
“What is this? Why are you dressed like that?”
But as soon as I enter the living room the question is answered. She turns and holds her arms open.
“I’m throwing Channing a theme party! Isn’t this great?”
Before I answer the ridiculous question, I scan the small room. The birthday fairy threw up in here. A sign reads,Happy birthday, sexy!It is stretched over the entry to the kitchen. Tables are filled with candy I recognize from another era. Two Super Soakers rest in a wicker basket.
But the piece de resistance stands in the far corner. A life-sized cutout of a shirtless Channing Tatum. Think that is the Magic Mike character. His head is dipped and the look frozen in a come fuck me expression.
“Are you kidding me? That’s your friend, Channing?
“Yep. It’s his birthday today.”
“Bullshit.”
“Google it! April 26th, just like someone else’s we know. You’re practically twins.”
I have to give it to her. I am holding back a laugh for coming up with a clever way to get me to have a birthday celebration.
“What’s the outfit for? And the fanny pack? Is that a VCR I see?”
“It’s a nineties theme! That’s when Channing was a teenager. I thought he’d like revisiting those days.”
I smirk a response. But this is pretty cool because we are the only guests, which does not require me to put on a fake, ‘I’m having a great time!’ face.
“And wait till you hear what I have planned. Want to know what Channing’s favorite foods were back in the day?”
I grab the wine opener on the counter and get to work. This night will require drinking.
