Despite the Eye Candy, Cindy and Mary Were Nothing but Trouble...
Part 6: Cindy and Mary Started Screaming and Moose Was Begging Me to Slow Down...
I fumbled with the keys, trying to open the door to the condo, but eventually, I got it. That's what 42 shots of Drambuie, a dozen or so beers, and a bag of weed will do to you, even spread out over twelve hours.
We had left the table lamps on in the living room, and once inside, the condo looked exactly the way it did when we left to go barhopping. Empty beer cans and bottles of red wine everywhere. The ashtrays were full and spilling over, and the place reeked of tobacco and pot…
We were all so fucking tired that after we stumbled inside, we each crashed in various spots around the living room. Cindy and Mary were curled up at opposite ends of the velveteen couch, facing away from each other. Moose was sitting on a living room chair with his bare feet resting on the glass coffee table. And I was lying on the wood plank floor just beyond the coffee table, in a fetal position.
It was on the other side of 3:00 am, and the alcohol had put a damper on any ideas I had of hooking up with Mary. Even sound asleep, Cindy's tits looked incredible, but the booze had taken its toll on Moose, and for someone who had been pawing all over Cindy earlier, he had zero interest. He was sound asleep almost immediately.
My head was spinning, and I wasn't feeling particularly good about the events of the day. For all practical purposes, I should've been dead and maybe responsible for the deaths of my three passengers and other innocents I might've involved had we crashed. I couldn't believe we survived the ride home or that no one puked in my father's car…
When you party as hard as we did, you sleep for a really long time, sometimes you miss the entire next day.
I was the first to wake up. I looked up at the wall clock in the kitchen, and it was half past two. No one else was moving, and because their breaths were so shallow, I tiptoed around and checked to make sure they were all still alive. I didn't want any Jimmy Hendricks-like deaths. Just a few years earlier, in 1970, Hendricks choked to death on his own vomit after consuming a mixture of alcohol and barbiturates. Fortunately for us, our evening only included beer, wine, mixed drinks, Drambuie, and pot…
I put on some coffee, and once the smell hit the living room, one by one, everyone started waking up. We all looked like shit, too. We needed food…
At first, everyone was a little quiet, which is understandable. We were all nursing hangovers. While the coffee finished brewing, I started straightening up the living room. Not one of my co-conspirators got up to help.
It took a while, but Moose was the first to say what everyone else was thinking, "What the fuck, Vinnie? You almost got us killed!"
I definitely had it coming, but it wasn't like Moose did anything to prevent it. He could've driven home, but he didn't want to, and he put me behind the wheel even after I told him I was too fucked up to drive.
"Ya, Moose. You could've driven, but no, you were too fucked up, like a little pussy. I had a lot more to drink than you, but you put it on me, and I did the best I could. We got the fuck home, asshole!"
It was starting to get a little heated, and then Cindy stepped in, "No one got hurt, so both of you, shut the fuck up!"
I was under the impression Cindy was all about great tits and not much else, but after that, she had my respect. She shut that situation down quickly. I could tell by the scared look on Mary's face she wasn't taking sides…
After things calmed down a bit, we decided to order a couple of pizzas and have 'em delivered. No one wanted to go anywhere in the Lincoln, and we were too tired and hungover to walk down to Biscayne.
Butch was coming on Monday to pick up the girls, and I could hardly wait. Despite the eye candy, Cindy and Mary were nothing but trouble. They were party girls just looking for the next good time, and although it would be unfair to blame everything on them, I was pretty sure Moose and I would've never consumed that much alcohol and then went barhopping if the girls hadn't crashed at the condo.
Just before noon on Monday, the buzzer sounded. It was Butch. We buzzed him in…
Butch looked to be 30 years old. He was about five foot eleven, 165 lbs, with long, straight, black hair that was free-flowing and pulled straight back. He had a thin mustache that went slightly beyond his lips. He was wearing a black leather biker vest with bright-colored patches sewn on the front and the name of a biker gang embroidered on the back. He wasn't wearing anything under it, revealing dark skin and muscular, tattooed arms. He had dangerous-looking dark brown eyes that gave the impression that the time between pissing him off and him reacting was short, very fucking short. He had several large silver rings on multiple fingers on both hands, and at least one was a skull. And he had a thick silver curb chain dangling around his neck. He was a seedy-looking character and no one you'd want to fuck with…
Meeting Butch was a lot like stepping on a poisonous snake and trying to ease your way around it without provoking a bite. Moose and I were very careful around him. We were gonna congratulate him on his release from prison, but we weren't sure if that was appropriate, so we avoided the subject altogether.
Cindy and Mary looked happy to see him. They grabbed their small suitcases and leather pocketbooks and disappeared through the condo door without looking back. Cindy definitely lived up to Moose's nickname for her, The Drift…
We hadn't seen the last of them, though. Butch was arrested a couple of months later, and Cindy called Moose looking for a place for her and Mary to crash. By then, we were renting a house in Miramar…
You men eat your dinner, eat your pork and beansI eat more chicken than any man ever seenI'm a back door man…
To be continued…