Chapter Twelve: The Wet Spot
I walked in my front door to twenty-seven messages on my machine. Nine were from Mandy, who wanted “us to work it out”, eleven were from my Mother, who didn’t want us to “work it out”, one was from my business manager informing him that my Mom had run up her Visa again and was requesting my assistance to meet her monthly payment, one was from Brian saying he was “so very sorry” that we had never found the time to talk, and five were from AJ.
This was extremely unusual, the five from AJ. AJ never left me messages. Well, not unless I was in deep shit.
“Nick! Call me buddy. Beep.”
“Nick, buddy! Call me when you get in. Beep.”
“Nickers! Give me a ring-a-ding-ding. Beep.”
“Nick my man! Give me a ring when you get in. Beep.”
“Nick! Pick up the fucking phone and call me or I’ll beep your neck!” Whew! Things were finally getting back to normal.
I decided unpacking was my first priority, mainly because the guys wouldn’t expect me to be home yet. I ran the bags up to my room and decided on a quick shower. Aaahhh. A shower in my own shower. Lovely, just lovely. I have ten different types of soap in there. You should have seen the contractor’s face when I explained why I wanted the cubbies built into the tile. Maybe he thought I kept my pugs in them.
Years on the road has given me a strange love of soap, and I don’t necessarily mean that in a weird way. I just wash with it, and yes before someone asks I wash all of myself , and I do mean all. I get between my toes, in my ears, the little dent below the nose, knees and elbows, and various other places to sensitive to mention (apparently a few of them are places that are not commonly cleansed. At least that’s what AJ said.). This is, according to Howie, the strangest thing about me (and he had so many to pick and choose from). I will wash every speck of my body, put on clean clothes, and then flop in a room covered in banana peels, candy bar wrappers, and empty pizza boxes. I don’t see what the problem is, I don’t sit down on the trash, just near it. And my sheets are clean - thank you housekeeping. I never get in a dirty bed after a shower. Of course this means coordinating your showers (morning or evening) with what ever it is you plan to do in that bed. It takes more time but it beats the hell out of avoiding the wet spot.
After my shower I discovered another messge from AJ. Perhaps he felt the last one was too violent. This one only threatened to “sew my eyelids together.” During my snack another call came in, this one promising to “sew all my flys shut.” AJ! You be so cruel.
After a short nap, with the machine off, I decided it was time to face the music. It was either call AJ or buy an ‘N sync CD. I decided to call AJ.
“Nick, you little...” I could hear him taking deep breaths. That’s it Aje, in with the good air, out with the shit. “Got home safe, I see.” Yea. And three hours ago. “Listen, do you have any plans for Wednesday?”
“Other than making it through to Thursday, none.”
“How would you like to go out on a boat?” Stupid question.
“AJ, that’s a stupid question. I’d rather be on a boat than anywhere else.” Well, almost. But I saw no sense in bringing sex into this. Not yet.
“Listen, Howie’s friend has loaned him this great yacht! It’s emormous. Were going out and Howie wanted to do some more scuba and he thought you might want to come along and be his buddy.”
“Sure.”
“Were bringing Amanda and Maggie, so you can...bring someone as well.” I’ll give him credit, he barely paused.
“A friend?”
“Sure, or who ever.” I think it’s whomever, but I’m too smart to correct AJ.
“Sounds good, what time and where?”
AJ gave me directions to the dock and we arranged for a time. As soon as I hung up I made a mad dash for my bedroom. It only took me a few minutes to locate my planner and then the number I was looking for.
Ring ring ring. Come ON! This is perfect.
“Hello?”
“Hey Mike! Ever been to Florida?”
-