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A flood of golden, early-morning sunlight ignited the front lobby of the Bayside Laundromat as Jason looked up from a basket of slightly damp socks and worn out blue jeans he had been meticulously folding. He was surprised to find a girl about ten feet away, stuffing an oversized load of laundry into the "out of order" washing machine. A radiant aura surrounded her like an angelic halo, creating a mesmerizing vision of beauty. He had to squint his eyes. Then a cloud passed in front of the sun, and as the morning brilliance subsided he could see her more clearly. Here in a run-down laundry was the type of girl he had only seen in those magazines where the women are so beautiful it's hard to imagine any of them really exist. He was amazed by her appearance and examined every minute detail: the floral print skirt swirling around her tan thighs; the snug, white, cotton crop top that betrayed the obvious shape and size of firm breasts; her long blond hair flowing smoothly over her shoulders--looking immaculate at seven o'clock on a Sunday morning. As he watched her he felt a sick nervousness growing inside his stomach, or maybe it was a pain in his heart.
She had finally succeeded in stuffing the entire contents of her large laundry basket into the machine, and after digging in a duffle bag sized purse for several minutes was about to put five quarters into the coin slot.
"Wait!" Jason blurted out and abruptly ended his mesmerized trance.
The girl looked over at him with a puzzled expression. "What?" she asked in a soft voice, and her blue eyes sparkled in the golden light that flooded the room for a second time as the big cloud continued its eastward journey.
Jason felt unable to speak. A motionless daze enveloped him. This was simply the prettiest girl he had ever seen. He was amazed that he hadn't noticed her walking into the place, but then no one this sexy ever used the laundry. It was completely unexpected. He looked down and thought for a moment. If there was anything in life he wanted more than this girl he had no idea what it was, and if that were the case, then he would have to take a chance. He would have to speak to her.
"That machine's out-of-order. It doesn't work." The words had great difficulty detaching from the pasty nervousness of his tongue and ended up coming out in a high-pitched, hoarse crackle that caused his face to turn bright red. He walked over to her, picked up the sign that had fallen face down on the floor, and cleared his throat. "It's mostly the same people that come here to use this place, so I guess when it fell off the other day no one thought it was important enough to bother with putting it back up--since we all know that machine doesn't work and hasn't for about a year."
"Oh," the girl said and began taking the clothes out of the broken washer and putting them into the one next to it.
"Besides, you really ought to use detergent."
"What?" The girl looked puzzled.
"You know, 'soap.'"
She glanced over at him and smiled as she continued moving the laundry from one washer to the other. He watched her and realized she was making another serious mistake.
"I don't mean to tell you your business," he felt a little self-conscious and was speaking in a low voice that verged on a mumble, "but I don't recommend washing those bright colors with the white stuff." The girl had stopped what she was doing and looked at him with a quizzical smile.
"I don't have any soap," she said.
Jason felt confused. She must not have understood him. "Here," he said, and started pulling her things out of the washer. The girl just watched him with interest as he opened another washer and began throwing colored things into one and whites into the other--and the first lace bra he came to he stopped short and backed away as if a snake had bitten him. It was black with red trim and looked like something a goddess might wear. "I'm sorry," He said. "I shouldn't be messing with your things." He turned and started to walk away, but the slender fingers of her hand grabbed him by the arm bringing him to a stop.
She looked at him with a puzzled expression. "I don't mind your help, but you'll have to speak up because I can't hear what your saying. My father bashed me in the side of the head when I was five, so I can't hear through my right ear. You don't have to be embarrassed. It's only underwear."
"I guess I just don't feel comfortable touching your personal items like that." Jason pointed at the bra and was now noticing that practically everything she owned was lingerie and spandex dresses.
"You know something? I don't have enough change for two loads of laundry. That coin machine over there isn't working," she nodded towards the change dispenser, "and I just figured I could buy soap here."
"I have some extra change and laundry detergent. That's not a problem." Jason felt lightheaded--like he was dreaming. He couldn't believe his great fortune that not only had this incredible beauty come to the Bayside Laundromat, but that he had actually strung some coherent words together and was managing to have a conversation with her. He found himself wishing desperately he had a girlfriend as beautiful as her. Maybe any girlfriend would be better than no girlfriend at all, which was his current situation.
She began separating her clothes into two washers. "My name's Cheri. What's your name?"
"I'm Jason." As he took her soft hand in his in an awkward handshake he imagined pressing her fingers against his heart.
"That's really sweet what you said about my things. Most of the men I'm around don't think twice about trying to rip the clothes from my body. I'm sick of it. Most of this stuff is really expensive. I can't afford to keep replacing outfits." She finished throwing her colors and whites into the two separate machines. "Is there some way I can repay you for the soap and change?"
"That's okay--don't worry about it." Jason was thinking of a hundred things. Filling his mind was an image of a white sand beach, a clear sky with a bright sun, the cool ocean roaring softly in the background, and Cheri lying by his side in a tight little bikini.
Two hours later he found himself carrying a basket of folded clothes out to her car. Despite a lengthy conversation that made the time fly by, he realized he hadn't found out much about her. Mostly the conversation had been small talk--favorite songs, favorite television shows, favorite foods, and so on. Other than this, he only knew that she was eighteen, had her own apartment on the cove, and her parents where somewhere else far away--and she didn't want to have anything to do with them.
Cheri's car was a candy apple red Camaro, and he wondered how a girl who was the same age as him could afford such a luxury. Cheri smiled brightly and waved good-bye. He listened to the fading rumble of the Camaro as it disappeared down the road, then headed back into the laundry and retrieved his own basket of clothing.
He headed home down Broadway toward the ocean. His heart was sinking fast into a black wave of despondency. As if aware of his mood an infantry of thick, dark clouds had gathered along the coast, painting the south side an overcast shade of gray. He couldn't stop thinking about Cheri, and this only made him increasingly miserable. He wished he had asked for her phone number. He was walking along with his head down thinking to himself what a complete idiot he was when the loud blare of a car horn jolted him out of his bleak mood. A red Camaro pulled up to the curb and the passenger window glided down. Jason walked up to the car and stuck his head in.
Cheri was smiling at him. "Why the hell didn't you ask me for a ride home? How am I supposed to know you don't have a car? I'm not a mind reader!" She motioned for him to get in. "I needed to stop at a place up the road and was just on my way back, lucky for you. You were probably thinking you would never see me again, weren't you?"
"Yeah. As a matter-of-fact that's exactly what I was thinking." Jason opened the car door, and as he got in Cheri turned the volume back up on the radio:
Her skin is pale like God's only dove
Screams like an angel for your love
Then she makes you watch her from above
And you need her like a drug...
"You know who this is?" Jason said as they were pulling away from the curb.
"Sure," Cheri answered. "It's U2. Right?"
"You got it."
"So where do you live?"
"It's a about a mile down--off Broadway. You have a ways to go." Jason noticed that she seemed to be preoccupied with thinking about something. In the awkward silence that followed he started singing along with the music:
And you don't know if it's fear or desire
Danger's the drug that takes you higher...
Her heart is racing...you can't keep up
The night is bleeding like a cut
Between the horses of love and lust
We are trampled underfoot
You say in love there are no rules...
"You have that memorized?" Cheri asked. "You have a nice voice."
"I know the words to every song on Achtung Baby by heart." As he spoke, Jason's gaze was drawn to the oversized purse sitting between them. It was leaning open. Inside he was surprised to see a rubber band wrapped wad of dollar bills about three inches in thickness.
"That's a lot of money to be carrying around with you," Jason commented. "You should deposit it in a bank account."
"Oh that?" Cheri looked startled. She grabbed the purse with one hand and pulling it shut, shoved it in the area behind her seat. "It's tip money. I work as a waitress. It looks like a lot, but it's really only about a hundred dollars. You know...it was a busy weekend."
Cheri watched him for a moment with a worried expression--as if she had some reason to be concerned about his knowledge that the money existed. He could clearly see the disturbed look on her face as their eyes met. He wondered if she thought he might try to take it. He knew she was lying about how much was there. He worked as a clerk at a grocery store; he knew how thick 100 dollars in singles was. Jason was thinking to himself what a stupid mistake it was to open his big mouth, and couldn't think of anything reassuring to say to help the situation. If he had known it would trouble her so deeply, he never would have brought it up.
He looked away, and as his gaze returned to the road he could see there wasn't enough time to stop. Cheri looked forward at the same moment. Jason felt his weight thrown against the seat belt as the car skidded about twenty feet and came to an abrupt stop in a loud explosion of screeching metal. A trailer hitch gouged deeply into the center of the hood forming a triangular depression as the front-end of the Camaro wedged itself under the back of an oversized, jacked up, four-wheel drive pick-up truck.
Jason looked over at Cheri. She appeared to be all right but was visibly shaken. "Are you okay?"
Cheri didn't answer.
He opened the door and got out. He stared at the front of the Camaro that now had a massive indention in the hood. Cheri was still sitting in the car, looking pale as a ghost through a windshield with a big crack running across it.
He wondered if anyone had seen what happened. He looked across the potholed and broken asphalt parking lot to their right. About fifty feet away stood a shabby, two-story structure that matched the gray sky that was becoming increasingly dark. A large sign on the front of the building read Captain's Tavern. Three men sharing a sordid expression exited the building and were headed across the parking lot. The big man in front was wearing a skin tight, black t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. His hair was shaved about a quarter inch long. The skinny man to the right had long, stringy blond hair and walked hunched forward with his left hand stuffed in one pocket while he kind of dragged the same side foot. The man on the left had a sinister look, and sunglasses further enhanced his shady appearance. His dark hair was slicked straight back, and a devious sneer became increasingly penetrating as they approached.
The man in front with the crew cut walked around to the driver's side, opened the door, grabbed Cheri by the arm and yanked her from the car. Jason could see she was crying hysterically now.
"What the hell did you do to my truck you stupid bitch! Don't you watch where you're driving? Damn! What the hell am I gonna do? Your gonna pay for this." Then he pushed her hard against the front of the car, and she crumbled into ball and lay there sobbing. "You can count on a visit from me first thing tomorrow morning when you're done workin' for Captain."
"It's not her fault," Jason said pointing at a street sign next to his truck. "The sign there clearly says no parking."
Jason was amazed by how quickly the man came around the back of the car and was standing in front of him so closely he couldn't avoid his nasty breath. It smelled like a mixture of cigarette ashtray and stale beer--clearly left over from the night before. It made him feel nauseous, and he took a step back.
"Who the hell are you?" The thick-necked muscular man spoke with what was unmistakably hatred.
Jason--who was all of five feet, eight inches and 130 pounds--desperately wanted to do something but felt severely out numbered. "Looks to me like it didn't do anything to your truck," was as much as he dared to say in Cheri's defense.
"Chuck! Leave him alone!" Cheri cried out.
The unexpected fist-from-out-of-nowhere came so quickly that Jason was only thinking about the hollow ringing sound in his ears as he lay on the sidewalk and everything began to dim.
"Who the hell are you anyway?" Chuck's words echoed in his head.
Then Jason lost consciousness.
* * *
"How are you feeling?"
Jason opened his eyes to find himself looking up at a young nurse. She was smiling gently at him. There was an intense throbbing pain on the right side of his jaw and his entire head was wracked with a dull but incessant ache. "Where am I? What time is it?"
"You are in a hospital. It's nearly midnight," the nurse spoke in a comforting voice. "You should relax. You suffered a severe concussion. You need to stay calm."
Jason didn't feel very comforted. A concussion? Midnight? "How did I get here?" he asked in disbelief.
"You must not remember anything. We've been waking you up periodically. Your sister brought you here this morning. Do you remember the car accident? Apparently you hit your head pretty hard."
He bolted upright in the hospital bed as the memories of the day's early events flooded back to him. "I have to go," he said and started to get out of bed. "Where are my clothes?"
"I really must advise you to stay in bed," the nurse said, looking alarmed. "Head injuries are a very serious matter."
Despite the nurse's protests, Jason had already ripped the IV tube from his arm, climbed out of bed and located his clothes.
Jason exited Bayside Memorial to the welcoming arms of pouring rain. He didn't care. He walked right out into it and was soaked before he had gone ten steps. He strode onward through the downpour with angry urgency. He couldn't believe what had happened. His head was throbbing and he was going to that place. It was about half a mile from the hospital. Cars drove by, headlights blinded him, and he walked on. The rain kept coming in sheets of drenching intensity.
It wasn't long before he reached the place where the accident occurred. Chuck's pickup truck was nowhere to be seen.
When he opened the door to the Captain's Tavern he found himself confronted by a dimly lighted, smoky atmosphere. In the entry way there was a counter with a very obese man seated behind it. He was smoking the butt of a fat cigar. A month old thickness of razor stubble covered his face. He looked pathetically grungy with his greasy black hair and pasta stained t-shirt. He was leaning on an aluminum crutch that had a sweat yellow foam pad covering the armrest.
Jason started to walk past him, but was stopped by the man's deep-throated voice: "Hey, it's five bucks to get in, you little shit."
Jason stopped and dug in his pocket. He pulled out three crumpled ones and five quarters. It was all he had. He placed it on the counter.
The man left it there as he stared at Jason with a mean scowl. "You're not twenty-one," he stated flatly.
"Where's Cheri? I need to talk to her."
The man burst into deep, throat choking laughter--then coughed spasmodically and spit in a cup sitting on the counter. "Everyone wants to see Cheri. You must be that stupid kid that got his lights punched out by Chuck. Well, I'll tell you something, boy." The man leaned back against the wall as if he was preaching from some elevated perspective. "I'm the Captain around here, and Cheri is my girl. I know what you're thinking with that little boy dick of yours. Maybe you're thinkin' you can rescue her or some stupid shit like that. But you can't change anything. This is Cheri's home. That's how it is, boy. Keep your mouth shut to your stupid little friends. Keep your hands off the girls and don't come back again." A bead of sweat rolled down the Captain's greasy forehead. It looked as if his speech had worn him out.
Jason walked on through the bead-covered entry into the "Captain's Tavern". A bar ran away from the doorway to the right. A girl wearing only a G-string and heels was standing about ten feet away at the end, waiting for the bartender to bring her something.
Jason stood at the edge of the large room. There were four elevated platform areas surrounding a larger center stage. Each of the round stages had a silver pole that extended from the center of the platform to the ceiling. A few gruff looking men of the working class type were seated in various places around the room. It wasn't crowded. Smoke wafted about in a slow swirl. Jason felt like he was being gradually smothered.
Cheri was dancing on the center stage. She was wearing red heels and a matching G-string as she swirled around the center pole and then strutted over to a man seated at the edge of the stage. She squatted down in front of him with her hands on his shoulders, and then pulled him forward pressing his face between her breasts. He tossed a dollar onto the stage.
When the song ended Cheri picked up the scattering of dollar bills that surrounded her feet. Leaving the stage she made her way toward the bar. She glanced over and noticed Jason, and quickly looked away.
Jason walked over to her. She smoothed out each dollar on the counter top as she counted the wad of bills. Jason just stood there watching her. She seemed to be acting like he was invisible--as if he wasn't even there; but then when she finished counting her money she finally looked over at him.
He had an accusingly blank expression.
"Look Jason, I know this isn't what you expected. I couldn't have told you--I don't even know you. I guess Captain let you in here just to cause trouble. I'm not a princess. My life isn't a fairy tale."
Jason stared at her in disbelief. He felt lost. He felt like he was in the midst of some bad dream he had unavoidably fallen into. "You said you were a waitress."
"Get over it! This is life, kid. What did you expect? A Harlequin romance?" Cheri looked irritated.
"'Kid?' You're the same age as me!" Jason turned his back on her and walked away.
A light drizzle was falling as he crossed the broken parking lot and headed home through the darkness of an unusually oppressive night.
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