By A.J. Llewellyn
Last night, I was minding my own business watching Dog, the Bounty Hunter which is my secret passion...and my secret shame. Why do I find this guy so hot? Anyway, I was taking a guilty break from edits, wondering what The Dog looks like, nekked once you get all that leather and Indian feathers and stuff off him, when my mate Tony, Australian by way of Hawaii and Las Vegas, burst through the front door.
Now, it's not that I was interfering with myself in a personal way, but I was thinking about it. I was also thinking Tony was in Vegas hooking up with this girl he met over the weekend.
Note to self, stop giving friends keys to the house.
Anyway, Tony has been dithering about his sexuality. Straight one minute, gay the next, he entertains me with running commentaries on his conquests and his heartbreaks.
"Mate!" he shouted. "I've brought my girl here to meet you."
I sat up on the sofa, not happy about being diverted from The Dog when he'd just taken off his leather vest to hunt a crack addict hiding in his grandma's weed infested backyard.
"Where is she?"
"In the car. We just flew in from Vegas. We won ten grand at Pai Gow poker. We're taking you to dinner to celebrate."
"Oh, no you're not. I'm in for the evening. Besides, my car is in the shop. I can't drive anywhere."
Tony reached across the coffee table, grabbed the remote and turned off the TV.
"We just bought a second hand convertible in Vegas, A.J. Come on. I want you to meet her. I'm getting married to her in the morning."
"Excuse me?" I bleated.
He nodded. "She gives me serious wood, A.J."
I reluctantly threw on some jeans and went down to the car. I'd been expecting a bit of a floozy to be honest because I know Tony's type, but this one was rough. As in a million miles off rough road.
She eyed me with the same lack of excitement. Holy Cow, I was thinking. He's marrying a street hooker!
I climbed into the back seat and we roared down to Jerry's Famous Deli where a smitten Tony was all over his paramour, whose name [not her real one, I'm respecting her privacy here] was Cindy. We waited in line for a table and Cindy who was actually very sweet and very nervous meeting me, seemed smitten but more in a "Oh, this guy might actually be nice to me" kind of way. I knew instantly when men kept walking in and staring at her and their girlfriends frowned, that Cindy was probably a porn star.
"Retired," she replied when I asked her. I mean it wasn't a difficult assessment. Guys were acting like total asses the second they spotted her.
Cindy quit the biz a couple of years ago, when she got pregnant. She married her co star who knocked her up. She's been nursing a bad crystal meth habit and he got custody of the kid. She was depressed talking about the kid and hinted at dark deeds done to fight for visitation rights.
I knew Tony was in way over his head and I just wondered how I could stage an intervention before this morning's nuptials back in Vegas.
As it happened, fate intervened in a most unpleasant way.
Cindy it seems, must have done a lot of movies. She was so uncomfortable with all the unwanted attention and the very long wait that I gently suggested we go elsewhere. I felt very bad for her and I think we kinda bonded.
So we left and we headed toward the beach. We were on a canyon road when a cop who I had noticed behind us, turned on his lights, briefly launched his siren...Cindy quickly pulled over and fell apart right in front of our eyes.
"Here, take my wallet," she said, fishing out what looked like an overstuffed taco. She went to hand it to Tony who was in the front seat with her, but decided, for some reason that I was a more responsible adult and she threw it to me.
"Look for my attorney's number and call him. He'll know what to do. I've got a lot of warrants out for my arrest."
The odd thing was the cop did not make a move toward us. She got out of the car and walked toward him, a dramatic wiggle to her gait. Getting out of your car when you're pulled over is a big no-no in LA, but under the glare of one street lamp, I rifled through her wallet, my panic mounting. I was visualizing her hog tied on the street any second now.
"Don't bother, A.J." Tony was looking over his shoulder and he was clearly upset. "Look."
I wasn't sure I wanted to look, but I turned and realized she was yukkin' it up with the cop. Geez. Another fan.
Unbelievably, she disappeared behind the police car with him. We could hear sounds of passion.
"Wedding's off," Tony whispered and covered his eyes.
She came back to the car as if nothing happened and the cop drove off with a ridiculous grin on his face.
Tony couldn't look at her. I handed her back the overstuffed taco and sat in miserable silence.
It was not until we arrived outside my place that Tony finally broke the silence.
"Why'd you have to fuck him?"
Since I was sitting in back and it was now very dark, I couldn't see her expression but her voice could have cut diamonds.
"It was just head. Grow up, Tony. This is the real world."
"Not to me it isn't." He shook his head. She looked surprised when we got out, but as we headed inside, I turned to see that she was reapplying her lipstick in her lit compact.
"I thought she loved me," Tony muttered.
"Was she good in the sack?"
"No, not really. She likes to cuddle. I like to cuddle. I was trying not to force myself on her. I wanted to be the one guy who didn't just want to fuck her."
Back inside the house, we watched a rerun of Dog, the Bounty Hunter.
The Dog was relating a story about his redemption from a life of crime. His wife Beth hovered close by and one look at the handcuffs dangling from her waistband, Tony looked overjoyed.
"Geez," he grinned. "Now that woman gives me serious wood, A.J. That's what I want. A big blonde with tits out to nowhere who is licensed to carry. I bet she never gives anyone but her husband head."
No, probably not. On the other hand, Tony, like I is allowed to fantasize about tangling with somebody like Beth. Fantasies, unlike reality, are free.