One Swinging Summer

One Swinging Summer
                                       A Fictional Memoir
                                       by Patience Hellsmith  


To The T-JAMS, because I promised.

"There's a place downtown,

Where the freaks all come around.

It's a hole in the wall.

It's a dirty free for all.

And they turn me on.

When they take it off.

When they take it off.

Everybody take it off.

There's a place I know,

If you're looking for a show,

Where they go hardcore,

And there's glitter on the floor.

And they turn me on.

When they take it off.

When they take it off.

Everybody take it off"

Kesha, "Take It Off"

CHAPTER 1
CHARMING

Drunk people are no fun to deal with if you are not also drunk. I should not have come tonight. The flashing lights and the pounding music are not what I need. I sigh as I make my way to the front door, avoiding a mass of sweaty dancing bodies. I catch my favorite bartender's eye, and she nods her OK when I motion that I am leaving my drink in the safe spot with her behind the bar. I squeeze out the door, like a salmon swimming upstream, avoiding all the eager bodies fighting to get into the bar that I am trying desperately to get out of.

Once outside, I lean against the wall and take a deep breath. A deep smoke-free breath. I can feel the wall behind me thumping against my skin, as the music pounds on inside.

"You again?" I hear laughingly spoken beside me. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to escape."

I look over and smile back at the voice- one of the two cops checking ID's at the door. "I am just not in the mood tonight," I say in reply. "If it wasn't my friend's birthday, I would have bailed already."

"No hot, young thing in there to keep you occupied?"

I laugh, "That is the last thing I need right now. I had hoped that a girls night out would do me good. I am usually right in the middle of them, drinking and dancing off the stress of the week, but I just can't get into it."

"I give you ten minutes before she notices that you're gone and comes looking for you again."

"Yeah, I know. But it is way more entertaining hanging out here, watching you two deal with girl fights and fake ID's."

He rolls his eyes at me, in a 'glad one of us is entertained' kind of way. His attention is dragged back to the line of people waiting to get inside.

'He's sweet,' I think as I watch him work. I've gotten to know him on a superficial level over the last few weeks, since he has started moonlighting here on Friday nights. He's cute as hell. That is if you like that tall, dark and handsome stuff. 'His arms are bigger than my head,' I notice as he hands an ID back to an older lady, who is obviously thrilled that she still gets carded. He notices her joy too, and winks at me over her head. My turn to roll my eyes.

It isn't my first time out here getting air tonight. Actually, I've been out here every chance I've had, which is why he made that 'you again' comment a minute ago. 'Oh well,' I think as I shake off the guilt, 'I did my part by showing up tonight, if I need to escape every now and then, well, so be it.'

Last time I was out here I amused myself watching all the girls hit on the hot, sweet cop. During a lull in the line, he looked over and shook his head at me asking, "Why is it that I only get hit on when I am dating someone? When I am single...nothing, but I get a girlfriend and everyone starts getting all flirty and forward. Where are they when I need them?"

I just laughed and said, "Isn't that the truth."

This time though, I find myself watching the other cop. The new one. I hadn't seen him here before tonight. He has been just as friendly, actually probably more so, but in that overly charming way. I don't trust charming.

"What's your sign?" I hear the charming cop ask a very young kid in a small crowd of other smirking, nervous, very young kids.

"Uh...What?" Is the young man's not so intelligent reply.

"Your sign. Your ID says your birthday is in February. What is your sign? Are you a Leo? A Sagittarius? Everyone knows their sign."

"Leo?" the kid asks with wide deer-in-the-headlights eyes.

"Are you asking me or telling me?" the cop asks, sternly.

The kid looks around at his friends for support, but they look just as panicked, smirks gone from their faces. A tall, thin, redhead boy is looking at his own ID in a sad, forlorn way, knowing money he thought was well spent on his ID is about to be lost. Along with the chance to see the inside of this bar tonight.

"Leo." States the kid, in a last ditch effort to bluff his way out of this.

"Sorry dude, next time you buy a fake ID, you should do your homework. This one is now mine." He looks at all of the kid's friends and asks "Anyone else want to try this game? Winners get in, losers lose the ID."

His face is very serious, but his eyes are shining with laughter as they all turn around and head back to the car. He looks over at me and catches my amusement. "I learned that trick the hard way," he chuckled at me under his breath. "My first fake was taken from me the same way."

"So you learned all the signs of all the horoscopes?" I ask incredulously.

"Oh no, I don't know any of them. Well, except for my own, and the sign for my second fake ID. If he had immediately stated any sign in a comfortable and sure manner, he would have called my bluff. I just knew he didn't know."

I laughed at him. "What's that line in that song?" he asked. "Old enough to get there, but too young to get inside?" He shook his head, still laughing, and went back to checking those at the head of the line.

Still laughing myself, I turned around to the sound of someone calling my name. My abandoned girlfriend had found me, and was here to pull me back inside.

"It took her fifteen minutes. I was wrong." Smirked huge arms, as I allowed myself to be lured back in.

Back inside, I picked my drink up from behind the bar, took a stiff swallow, and prepared to pretend I was having fun. I let Julie lead me to the dance floor, and actually didn't have an awful rest of the evening. We drank a bit, danced a lot, and generally had a decent time. I knew I was driving Julie home tonight, so I kept my drinks to three, and drank them early on. By the time she was ready to go, it had been hours since I'd had anything but cokes. That was good, because it meant I was sober as I made my way to the bathroom for one last pit stop before I dragged Julie home. But that was also bad, because it meant I was sober, and therefore had no patience for the drunks that I had to pass on my way.

One guy had been trying to hit on me all night long. I guess saying no all night just presented a challenge to him, because I got to say it again on my way back from the bathroom.

"Why won't you dance with me?" he asked. Again.

"I told you, I have a boyfriend. You have not seen me dance a single dance with a man. It's not personal. I am here with a girlfriend. I'm not dancing with any guys tonight." I tried to say the words with a smile, because usually in this bar, if you keep smiling you can deliver news like that, keep walking, add a wave as you pass by in the crowd, and off you go. Free to keep moving, letting them down easily and friendly, and no one gets hurt. Plus they are usually pretty drunk, so all the moving, smiling and waving confuses them.

This guy wasn't having any of it. He stepped in front of me, making me come to a complete stop. "Will you dance with me later?" he asked. Or I should say- slurred.

"No." I stated simply. Obviously this guy needs the little words.

"Why not?" he blinked down at me, swaying just a bit.

So I said it slow, "I...have...a...boyfriend"

"You do?"

"Yes." I said.

"Where is your boyfriend?"

"He is not here right now."

"If you were my girlfriend, I would never leave you alone." He said.

I countered with the southern staple we all use when there really isn't anything else to add and said, "Well there ya go," and tried to go around him.

He blocked me again. "I could be your boyfriend."

"Sorry, that job is taken."

"But he is not here?" he asked.

"No" I said back, "not right now. And I have to go now, so, bye."

He blocked me again, this time putting a hand out to grab my arm. If he wasn't about to fall down and pass out, I may have been scared at this point, but really I was just getting irritated.

"He should not leave you alone. He should be here and dance with you. If you were my girlfriend, I would dance with you. You wouldn't have to sit and watch everyone else dance."

"Look," I said, "My boyfriend is a fabulous dancer, and he is usually here with me, but not right now. This conversation is over, I have to go now."

"But...where is your boyfriend?" he asks one more time.

I take a deep breath and let it out in a loud, annoyed sigh. Just as I am thinking 'to hell with this' and am about to give him a push to watch him topple over so I can step over him and leave, I hear a deep, booming male voice beside me say, "I am right here."

The drunk and I are both startled, and I slowly look to my right. All I see is chest. A big, solid, wall of chest. And I giggle to myself because all I can think at this point is 'so he's where the term barrel-chested comes from.'

I slowly look up. More chest. A blue uniformed, bullet proof, massive chest. Jeez, how tall is this guy? As I look higher, I see that the chest belongs to my charming horoscope cop from outside. He is staring at the drunk, and says to him, "I am her boyfriend."

Drunk guy then looks to me, and has the nerve to say, "Really? This guy is your boyfriend? I thought you said he wasn't here."

I laughed out loud and said, "He wasn't here. Now he is. I told you I had a boyfriend, and he is a fabulous dancer."

It was drunk guy's turn to say, "Well there ya go," and he turned around and wobbled off.

CHAPTER 2
THE VIEW FROM A GOLF CART

An hour or so later I found myself outside the bar, sitting in the little golf cart that the bar employees use to get around the parking lot. They do hourly checks of the lot, keeping an eye out for people breaking into cars, or people passed out beside cars, whichever. They also use it to drive people, usually women that were here alone, out to their cars. Sort of a security escort kind of thing. Right now though, it was occupied by me. And my fake boyfriend.

Julie is around here somewhere, saying goodbye to her birthday crowd. I was waiting here on the momentarily unused golf cart for her when my charming cop walked by, on his way home for the night. I was silently watching him pass when he looked over, saw me sitting in the shadows, and then veered my way. He sat down beside me on the cart and just said, "Hi."

"Hi," I cleverly say right back. We sit in silence for a few minutes. It was surprisingly not an awkward silence. I had never seen this man before today, but just sitting beside him watching the occasional bar patrons get in their cars and leave was quite comfortable. Safe, even. It was probably the whole cop thing. You would think the opposite would be true- a cop comes and sits beside you, outside a bar, you would think awkward would just be the beginning. With maybe some nervousness, followed by that paranoid quick check to make sure you are wearing your seat belt even though you are just sitting on a non-moving golf cart.

I'm actually the first one to speak, which is weird for me. I usually enjoy seeing how long someone can just sit quietly without feeling the need to break the silence.

"I've never seen you here before."

"I come here all the time," he stated. "I'm here with friends most every weekend. It's my first time to work the front door in uniform though. And that was only to cover for the normal guy. I prefer to hang out here, not work here."

"Hmm." Was my classy retort.

"I have seen you a few times," he said. "Not that I'm a stalker or anything. I just pay attention, you know? I guess it's part of the job. Even off duty, you watch."

A small group of guys I had seen earlier inside the bar wandered by, laughing and talking with each other. From the sound of it they were harassing the oldest one about finally getting out on the dance floor this time.

"You are here a lot." He continued, this time being the one to break the silence. "But you aren't the bar fly type. You either come alone and join friends or you come with a small group. You dance every chance you get. With almost anyone who asks. But you aren't one of the ones constantly in some dark corner kissing on some guy. You drink. Not the girly drinks, either. The good stuff. But I've never seen you drunk. The door guy knows you. You only use the one bartender, and when you get hot or bored, or are trying to escape the advances of some guy, I usually see you sitting up in the DJ booth with Mike. It's like your escape. You can watch from up there, be above it all, but still part of it all."

By the time he finishes, I'm looking at him. Studying him, really. He isn't looking at me as he speaks, but is talking to the night.

"Yeah, no stalker tendencies in you, no sir."