Mike Gets a Surprise: Part One

I’m at Dan’s party, and so far it’s been a fucking great time.

His parents are on vacation, so that means we have the run of the house. Before I came over, I chugged a few brews out of the old fridge in the basement, out of sight of my mother. That old Viking fridge, boy. It must have been made about a hundred years ago. It’s always stacked with the beers. My dad should put a padlock on it, seriously. I put the empties behind some boxes so nobody will see where they went for a little while.

“Have a good time, but you be careful around that swimming pool,” Mom told me when I came up. “Danny’s parents are home, aren’t they?”

“Sure, Mom. Don’t worry about it,” I say.

What party worth going to ever has parents at home? Nothing bad’s going to happen anyways. My mom worries too much about me sometimes. And she’s got to know what’s going on over there, she was a kid once too. It’s just a bunch of people having a good time, nothing dangerous or anything. So I just say what I need to in order to get out of the house without any more hectoring, because I can feel the beers starting to come on a bit. I need to get pedalling my bike, before I end up wheeling it into a ditch or something. Or a parked car, I did that once too. Racked my arm up pretty bad, but that was okay. I just told people I got into a scrap:

“I got the guy pretty good, though,” I said, punching the air. “A couple good shots, right in the mind.” Everybody kind of forgot about the bruises on my arm after I told my story. That’s the way it is – all you have to do is explain yourself a bit, and the questions always stop. Even if it’s a lie. Actually, it’s better if it’s a lie, because for some crazy reason, people believe the lies more than they would the real story. Like, if I said I ran into a parked car because I was drunk, they’d say, “What? No way – on your bike? Get outta here.” The lie is always easier to digest, so I just tell a good story and they buy it all the way. It’s when you try to hide things by saying nothing that you get into trouble. People love secrets, and they just won’t get off your back until you spill them.

So anyway, I’m at Danny’s party, and I just couldn’t ask for a better way to spend my day. He’s invited over a lot of girls he knows, and some of the ones that work with me at Subway. Some of ‘em are only sixteen or something, but that stops bothering me after I have a few more beers. Lindsey Lohan is seventeen or so, isn’t she? The Olsen twins? Something like that. I dunno, they’re around that age, and grown men keep wanting to see them in Playboy, so should I feel bad about checking out some Subway girl? No way. It’s not like I’m forty anyway.

Dan, he’s got the beers beside the pool in one of those Styrofoam coolers, and I park my ass beside it for easy access. I don’t even care if I’m drinking too fast, because Dan’s got plenty more here on ice in case I puke. And you know what though? The truth is, puking when you’re drunk even feels good. If I'm drunk enough, I even like it. It clears your head out so you’re not all dizzy and everything. You’re all empty inside afterwards too, and then you can go drink some more. I mean, I’m not going to puke or anything, all I’m saying is, it doesn’t bother me very much if I have to.

I’m chatting it up for a bit with my buddies, and then I see this cutie across the pool I know from Subway. I’ve sort of had my eye on her for a while. She’s got this hot ass, and the other guys at Subway kind of rag on her a bit because of her looks. She’s too young to know how to handle it. She doesn’t know what to say when they hit on her, is what I mean. I wave at her across the pool. She comes right on over when I do it, too. That’s got to be a sign of some sort. Her name’s Shelly, she’s really cool. I like her a lot.

“Hey, how are ya Shelly?” I say. I’m feeling pretty sauced up, sitting here in the sunshine on my chair and everything. “You want a beer?” She looks a little uncomfortable standing over me. I have to shade my hand looking up at her, but that’s all right, it gives me an excuse to check out her rack from below. From down here, it looks like you could sit a couple of beers on top of her boobs without any problems.

“Hi Mike. Okay, I'll have a beer,” she says. She takes a bottle and plops down on the cement beside me.

“You havin’ a good time? Dan’s a great guy eh, having this party like this?”

“Yeah, he is,” she says, and sort of stops, looking across the pool at some people over there. She’s kind of quiet. That’s okay though, I’ll get her talking. I slide my shades up over my hair, and lean over to her a bit.

“Yeah, this is a nice party. Listen Shelly, I’ve wanted to tell you something for a while, I mean, I don’t want to embarrass you here, okay? It’s hard talking at work about things like this, you know what I mean? But I think you’re this really cool girl. You’re really special, is what I mean. Different from the other girls, you know? I just wanted to say that. Like, I thought you should know. I never get a chance to talk to you much, so I just thought I’d take the opportunity to let you know that you’re this nice person, and I like talking to you.”

Man, I’m feeling smooth right now, with all the beers in me. Saying all that shit to her, my heartbeat didn’t budge over fifty beats a minute, I bet. And Shelly, I had her attention the whole time I said it. Before I said anything to her, I had a hunch this is the kind of thing she wanted to hear, the way she came and sat with me and everything, but I swear to god I thought I blew it for a second irregardless.

“Oh, Mike - that’s such a nice thing to say,” she says, her cheeks getting all dimply with me and everything. So cute. She cocks her head to the side and pats my hand. Yeah, this is going really well now. She’s getting into me, a bit. “I think you’re really nice, too. Thank you for telling me that,” she says. It was a real movie moment. I thought I had her in the bag right then, except this dumbass guy I know showed up at that second.

Part Two