Old Towne, Kansas – Wednesday Evening, March 8, 1989
Jerry quartered the red bell pepper and made thick slices of tomato and onion, then brushed them with olive oil. He ground salt and peppercorns over the pinky swordfish steak, then stripped the tender rosemary needles from its stem, crushing them with his fingers to release the aroma of eucalyptus and clove before rubbing the mixture in the steak’s firm flesh. Timing and temperature were paramount, and the grill was preheating to 450 degrees. He headed to the terrace door to check on it when the phone rang.
“Dang!” He shook his head not wanting to be interrupted but was curious to who would be calling. “Hello,” he said tensely. He heard a low chuckle, and music played in the background.
“Yannie, what’s up? I’m in the middle of grilling dinner— ”
“The Doobie Brothers dropped in and . . . ” The chorus of “Listen To The Music” drowned out Yannie’s voice, no doubt he put the phone up to the speaker to make his point. The doobie brothers were the other two of the foursome that hung out together. Freddie and Tim with Yannie and Jerry spent many late nights mellowed by the weed as they listened to the music that dominated the 70’s—sans disco and ignoring the major trends of new wave and synth-pop—they preferred classic rock and the psychedelic movement defined by Pink Floyd.
“Okay, Yannie, I get it, but— ”
“You butted out this afternoon, dude. What’s with you?”
“Hey, can’t talk now, but if you want to come over, you can sample dinner.”
“Freddie and Tim are heading out anyway. They’re borrowing the Jeep to take Jenny and Ann four-wheeling. No room for me. I’ll have them drop me off. Be there in ten. What’s for dinner?”
“Grilled swordfish steak and veggies, and I’m about to put them on, so don’t be late.” Yannie was notorious for showing up hours after a promised time. He flowed with whatever attracted his attention and was forgetful when he was stoned. Checking the grill, he lowered the heat to medium to hold the proper temperature.
Yannie walked in without knocking as Jerry left the terrace, two plates in hand, steam rising from the grill-seared steak and colorful veggies.
“This has got to be a first, right on time,” Jerry said.
“Got the munchies, dude. What’s the occasion? I would’ve expected Raman noodles.”
“Experimenting,” Jerry said.
“Huh? I must have missed the chemistry assignment.” Yannie walked to the counter and picked up the bottle of wine. “Dude, what’s up with this?” He looked to Jerry’s bedroom and nodded. “You got a girl in there?”
Jerry chuckled. “Not yet . . . well, I didn’t mean that . . . she’s not like those sorority babes.”
“Who? Ahhh, I get it now. I’m being replaced. Not like you to pass on a joint.” Yannie looked at him through droopy, red-tinged eyelids.
“I see you burnt one with the boys. I’m out for a while. Need to clean up my act for this girl.” He took the wine bottle from Yannie and placed it in the pantry. “I’m saving this for the real date. You’re just a fill in.” He sliced the swordfish steak in two and prepared their plates. Eye appeal and the scent of grilled aromas were as important as the succulent first bite. “Probably the first time you’ve had veggies, Yan.”
“Impressive presentation. What’s so special about . . . What’s her name?”
“Christina.”
“Yeah, I noticed. Her dad owns a vineyard and named the wine after her.”
“Just something I stumbled on. Seemed like a good sign.”
Yannie opened the fridge. “No beer?” He looked over the apartment curiously. “You’ve cleaned up the place. So when is this big date.”
“Don’t know. Haven’t asked her yet.”
“You seem pretty confident.”
Jerry sliced a chunk of the steak. “Will be once I taste this.” He savored the morsel, rolling his tongue around it to experience the mix of flavors. “Mmmm.” He closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair and rested his head in his laced hands. A thousand eyes behold her, the dance flowing seamlessly, orchestral backdrop, a rhythm on which to float . . .
“So, how did you meet her?”
“Struck by lightning.”
Yannie chewed while he talked. “Yeah, I’d say. No weed, no beer . . . We’ll see how long that lasts.” He pulled a doobie out of his shirt pocket and laid it between them. “I brought dessert.”
You have received the power of My Spirit, the Voice revealed.
Jerry slowly laid down his fork. Yan saw the change in Jerry’s face.
“What’s up? You look like you just saw a ghost.”
Jerry blinked and rattled his head. “Oh, nothing. I . . . ” He stopped short of any explanation. What’s with this voice, these changes? He mulled over the thought. Finally, he said, “Have you ever escaped death?”
Yannie placed another chunk of steak in his mouth, his serving nearly devoured. “This is good,” he said as he chomped away. “I’m always one step away from death. Live life to the max, Jer. You never know when it’s coming.”
“Yeah, I know.” While he sliced his next bite, he considered whether to tell of the storm, the strangling hands, and the truck that nearly ran him down. “So much has happened to me the last three days. I don’t know how to describe it. I don’t understand it myself. I need more time to think about it.”
“Save it for dessert,” Yannie said as he rolled the joint across the table.
Yannie flipped through the album covers and selected one for its title cut. Jerry moved the utensils and empty plates to the counter, the doobie conspicuously the only thing remaining on the table. Soon the voice that reminds us of a tequila sunrise wafted—
Well, I’m running down the road
tryin’ to loosen my load
I’ve got seven women on my mind,
Four that wanna own me,
Two that wanna stone me,
One says she’s a friend of mine
Yan cranked the volume and the chorus filled the room. Picking up the joint, he stepped to the terrace doors and opened them, the music spilling outside. Leaning back against the terrace wall, he lit the tapered end, puffed to burn the paper, and then inhaled deeply, stretching his barrel chest to the max. Jerry walked out and rested his arms on the wall and looked out on the street. Yan exhaled a cloud.
“Lighten up while you still can,” Yan sang as he pinched the joint between his lips. “Don’t even try to understand.”
Jerry turned and grinned with a nod. “Just find a place to make your stand,” he sang as he took the held out smoldering joint.
“And take it easy,” Yan said while holding in his toke.
Lyrics
from Eagles, “Take It Easy” Copyright © 1972 Asylum Records
v v v
Copyright 2017 © Jeff Cambridge
Excerpt from PURSUIT, a novel by Jeff Cambridge, a writer of transformational fiction with characters that tell life-changing stories.
This is a pre-published scene.
To read the scenes sequentially, begin with
“PURSUIT: A Novel – Prologue”
Your comments are welcomed and appreciated. Simply check one of the reaction boxes below, write a comment, or email me at bycambridge@gmail.com.
This novel is a work of fiction. Any references to real events, businesses, organizations, and locales are intended only to give the fiction a sense of reality and authenticity. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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