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Message-ID: <51996asstr$1127110208@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Jim C" <jimc_author@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Lucky Stiff by JiMC (18 of 46)--MF, FF, mc, md, magic, romance
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Date: Mon, 19 Sep 2005 02:10:08 -0400
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This story is copyright (c) 2003-2005.  All rights are
reserved by the author, including that of publication.
Posting on-line is only allowed when permission is explicitly
granted by the author, and then only for the complete story,
including this disclaimer.  Contact the author at
<jimc-author at excite dot com> for more information,
referring to this story ("Lucky Tickets 2: Lucky Stiff").

I explicitly grant permission to post this story to
StoriesOnline.net and asstr-mirror.org.

The following is a work of fiction and is just a fantasy.
Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely
coincidental and entirely unintentional.  There may be
references to people in a historical context, but they are
not really characters in this story.

This is a story that describes sexually explicit situations
in a fictional universe that only vaguely seems similar to
the one we live in.  Most of the characters in this story are
under aged.  However, the target audience is adults (people
over the age of eighteen) with broad minds.

* * *

This is a sequel to the story "Lucky Tickets," and as such,
you may want to read that story first to get a better
introduction to the characters present in both stories.  Like
a lot of sequels, it's not really meant to be read out of
order.

* * *

Chapter 18--Rescue

        Hold me closer tiny dancer.
        Count the headlights on the highway.
        Lay me down in sheets of linen,
        You had a busy day today!
                -- Tiny Dancer (Elton John)


    I woke up feeling my dick being suckled in a warm mouth.
There were no hands touching it, so I realized that it was
one of Kristen's lovely sucks.

    Before I could open my eyes, however, a pair of lips met
mine.  My eyes closed and I reveled in the mind blowing
sensation of kissing a woman while another one sucked me.

    It didn't take long for my dick to erupt.

    I grunted in release, and Kristen continued sucking me
until I was completely spent.

    The lips I was kissing moved away, and I opened my eyes
to see Kristen and Camille sharing a wet kiss between each
other.  I realized that Kristen was also sharing my essence
between them.

    While Kristen made breakfast, I asked Camille if she knew
any of the larger athletes at the school.

    "Of course," Camille answered sweetly.  "I know all of
them."

    "Who would be willing to do you a favor?"

    "All of them." Camille said it as if it were a given.

    "Who do you know that can put the fear of God into Tim
Hawking and make him reconsider going after the cheerleaders?"

    Camille thought for a moment.  "TB... um... Tiny."

    Now that was a great idea.  Tiny Jonas was a line backer
and star of the wrestling team.  He was so large that people
described his muscles as having muscles.  He was big, black,
and nobody, and I mean nobody, fucked with him.

    "Tiny will do anything you ask?" I asked.

    "Of course," Camille said.  "I introduced him to June."

    June was a black cheerleader, and was known to call Tiny
"her snugly Teddy Bear."

    I laughed.  Tiny would be perfect.  "Do you think he's
coming?"

    "June doesn't do parties," Camille said.

    "Oh," I said, my spirits lowering.

    "Let me see if I can have Tiny come over anyway.  The
entire squad loves him."

    "Are you sure June won't be jealous?" I asked.

    Camille laughed.  "June will tear the eyes out of any
girl who even looks at Tiny funny.  They all know that his
dance card is full."

    I smiled.  "Can you have him arrive at Jackie's about an
hour early?"

    Camille moved over to the phone.  She didn't know Tiny's
number, but she knew June's.

    "This is Camille Lombardi, from the cheerleading squad.
I'd like to speak to June, please."

    There was a pause.  "Hi, June.  Cammy... Yeah... Doing
fine, actually... That's nice... Listen, June, the reason I'm
calling is that I wanted to know if we could borrow TB
today... Yeah, the party... There's been some strange...
yeah... Anyway, a friend of mine thought that having TB
around... Yeah!  Think he would do it?" Camille grinned and
gave me an OK sign.  "Thanks a million, June... Of course...
You're welcome, too... Bye!" Camille hung up the phone.

    "What is TB?" I asked.

    "It's short for 'Teddy Bear,'" Camille explained.  "Only
June calls him by that name, so Lynette and I use the
initials instead.  Anyway, June's going to call Tiny, but she
tells me he's free until five and they have a date at six."

    "That only gives us a couple of hours," I said.  "That
should be enough."

*****

    Camille took me to her cousin's house at noon.  A few
minutes later, June arrived with Tiny.  I watched the two of
them lock lips for a couple of minutes before Tiny got out of
June's car.  June waved to all of us and left.

    "Hey, Tiny!" Camille said.

    "Yeah, Camille.  What's up?  June said something about
some trouble?"

    "I want you to meet two of my friends.  This is..."

    "Kristen Swift," Tiny finished.  "Archy Jonas," Tiny
introduced himself, extending Kristen a large paw.

    "Pleased to meet you," Kristen said, taking Tiny's hand.

    "And you're the guy they call 'Oogie,'" Tiny said,
turning to me.  "Jim something?"

    "Jim Crittenhouse," I said, offering my hand to Tiny.

    "You are a mean mother on the horn," Tiny said, smiling.

    "I've heard you called the same on the wrestling mat," I
said with a laugh.

    Tiny had a deep laugh that shook his entire body.

    "Now, who is this problem that you want me to take care
of?" Tiny asked, getting right to the point.

    Since only the four of us were around, I decided to cut
right to the chase.  "His name is Tim Hawking."

    "The tenth grade nerd?  He can't hurt a fly."

    "He's raped a couple of cheerleaders already," I
corrected Tiny.

    Tiny's eyes widened.  "I'll take care of that..."

    "Wait, Tiny," I called, seeing murder in Tiny's eyes.
Tiny was sort of a mascot to the cheerleaders.  "Here, have a
ticket."

    "You have one wish," Tiny intoned.

    It was weird hearing that from the two hundred fifty
pound behemoth.

    "Answer the next set of questions truthfully until I say
'Truth Serum Off.' You will not remember me asking them."

    "Your wish is my command."

    "Has anybody ever handed you any one of these tickets
before?"

    "No."

    I felt a surge of relief.  I handed Tiny another ticket.

    "You have one wish."

    "You will not accept another ticket like this from anyone
ever again."

    "I cannot grant that wish."

    Huh?  It worked before.

    "Why not?" I asked.

    Luckily, the "truth serum" wish was still in effect.

    "You cannot wish that I cannot accept a ticket from you."

    That was weird.  "All right, then.  You will not accept
another ticket like this from anybody other than me."

    "Your wish is my command."

    "Truth serum off."

    Tiny looked a bit disoriented.  "Listen, Tiny.  We just
want to keep Tim Hawking from disturbing the party."

    "If he's raped some cheerleaders, they should call the
police."

    "It's not black and white like that, Tiny.  The girls
just found themselves... trapped by him.  It's difficult and
the girls find it difficult..."

    "My mama's a rape counselor," Tiny said.

    "Shit," Camille said, suddenly remembering that little
fact.

    "Huh?" Tiny asked, totally confused.

    I handed Tiny another ticket.

    "You have one wish."

    "Forget about rape.  Tim Hawking is just a nuisance, and
we'd like you to help us keep him from the party."

    "Your wish is my command."

    One again, Tiny looked disoriented.

    "Tiny?" I asked.

    "Yeah?" Tiny said, shaking his head.

    "Your mother is a rape counselor, right?"

    "Yeah."

    "I have a friend, Patty Nadal..."

    "The red head?" Tiny asked.

    "Yeah.  She had a problem a couple of years ago."

    "Who's the dead mother that did it?"

    Oh, shit.  Tiny was back in "knight in shining armor"
mode.  I could see why the cheerleaders loved him.

    "It was years ago, Tiny.  The guy graduated.  She's only
now getting her life back together.  Do you think your mom..."

    "She works at the precinct," Tiny said, frowning a bit.
"She'll be happy to talk with your friend.  But you should
never allow a rapist to walk away.  There will always be
another victim, sure as shit."

    I nodded.  I found myself actually warming to this big
lug.  It was strange that I never considered him as possible
friend material.

    "Mind if I ask a question?" Tiny asked.

    "I don't mind.  What's up?"

    "You're a tenth grader," Tiny said.  "You're dating Ms.
Swift."

    That wasn't a question.  "Would you believe that I love
this Goddess?"

    Tiny looked at Kristen and then back at me.  After a few
moments, he said, "Yeah.  I really believe that.  I'm sorry
to bring it up.  It just seemed strange to me."

    "It was strange to me, Tiny.  Can you believe that I once
disliked her?  I thought she was responsible for me losing a
friend.  In fact, I misjudged her, but we discovered that we
really love one another."

    Tiny smiled.  "Yeah," he said.  "I once thought that June
was stuck up.  Then Cammy here introduced us.  She wasn't
what I thought at all.  June's going to be a nurse."

    Tiny's story was similar to mine, without the tickets, of
course.  We actually managed to start to develop a friendship
that day.

    "This guy, Tim Hawking, has a similar dislike for the
cheerleaders," I said.

    Tiny nodded.  "I'll help him adjust his attitude."

    "You're not going to hurt him, are you?" Camille asked.

    Tiny turned to Camille.  "I'd never hurt anybody, Cammy."

    I thought about the hundreds of opponents in football and
wrestling that would take issue with Tiny's statement, but
wisely didn't say anything.  There was a big difference
between a monitored athletic event and a big kid bullying a
smaller and younger one.

    Camille invited everybody in.  Camille's aunt looked a
little nervous at Tiny, but was immediately enamored of Tiny
when he introduced himself quite formally.

    After Jackie's mom went in to fix the refreshments,
Camille said, "See, Tiny.  A little manners go a long way."

    "Yeah, Cammy.  I'm glad I'll be able to at least pay you
back a little bit for all the help you've been over the
years."

    Camille nodded.  "Thanks, TB."

    Jackie was assembling some albums for her record changer.
Camille went to the kitchen to help her aunt fix up some
snacks.

    I felt in my pockets and realized that I had used up all
the tickets that I had on my person on Tiny.  I used more
than I had thought I would need to handle him, and I hoped
that I wouldn't be caught short when Tim showed up.  I did
have others nearby in a safe place, though.

    "Where did you learn to play the horn, Oogie?" Tiny asked.

    "Fifth grade.  I knew piano before that.  I play other
instruments as well."

    We made small talk for a few minutes before the doorbell
rang.  Tiny and I walked to the door to answer it.

    It was Lynette Robbins, the head cheerleader.  She looked
a bit nervous.  "Is that asshole here?"

    I was about to answer when Tiny said, "Not yet, and he
won't be here if I have something to say about it."

    Lynette looked relieved.  We invited her in, and we saw
another car pull up with Maria Wilson.

    A few minutes later, I saw Tiny stiffen.  I looked
outside, and saw Tim Hawking striding purposely up the
sidewalk.

    "I'll handle this..." Tiny said, springing into action.

    Tim looked stunned as he saw the huge line backer
approach him.  He froze, and Tiny took advantage of the
situation.

    "Excuse me, asshole.  This event is for cheerleaders and
their dates and guests.  I've been told you're persona non
grata.  That's French and means that you are not wanted here."

    Tim hurriedly reached into his jacket pocket, but Tiny
thought that he might be going for a weapon.  Like lightning,
Tiny pulled Tim's hand out of his parka.  As this happened, a
whole roll of tickets flew out of his pocket.  Tim looked at
his precious tickets, and in a panic, started to dive for it.
It wasn't a brilliant move, since Tiny still had a firm grip
on his right hand, which was now behind Tim's back.

    When I saw the tickets, I made a dash for them.  Tiny
didn't expect me to move behind him, and he lowered his
guard.  Nevertheless, I still managed to get to the roll of
tickets before Tim did.

    I saw Tim start to fall down toward me, his right arm in
pain, and I briefly wished that these tickets had never been
around.

    Before I knew it, the roll of tickets, which I had just
managed to grab, disappeared.  I just felt them just vanish,
no longer there.

    Was it that simple?  Just wish them to disappear and they
will?  There was one way to test my theory out, but then I'd
be damning Merry or somebody else with their possession.  If
Camille and Debbie were any indication, then I'd not be able
to help my sister and who knows how she'd be tempted with
them?  Then another, darker thought came to me.

    "Get off Oogie," Tiny said, pulling Tim up by his left
hand.

    I felt Tim's weight suddenly leave mine, and I pulled
myself up.  Tim's attention was riveted to where I fell on
the tickets, which were no longer there.

    Tim saw the tickets vanish into thin air.  "He stole
them!" Tim cried.

    "Stole what?" Tiny demanded.

    Tim found that he couldn't say what I stole.  "Um... my
things.  They disappeared into thin air!"

    "If it was a weapon, then I'd feel safer with it being
disappeared forever, you little twerp."

    "No... I mean it..."

    "I've already told you.  You're French for 'get out of
here.'"

    Tiny had an interesting way with words.

    Tim Hawking got the message and left slowly, his eyes
constantly looking on the ground where he last saw his
precious roll of tickets.

    Disaster had been averted.  I'm not sure how many people
Tim Hawking destroyed, but his ability to magically do so was
now significantly reduced.

    A few minutes after Tim left, I excused myself from the
party to take a quick jog to Kristen's Camaro.  The doors
were unlocked, and I opened the door and looked underneath
the passenger seat.  I was afraid that I would find nothing
there, and my heart hung quite heavy.

    I found the purple roll of tickets underneath the seat,
right where I had stashed them before leaving for the party.
I had found out soon after I moved in with Kristen that she
was never able to pick up my ticket roll.  I had never
discussed this oddity with Camille, since she claimed that
she never had them, but I figured that storing them in
Kristen's Camaro would allow me quick access to them if I
needed them, and was a relatively safe place when I didn't
have my attach� case with me.

    For a few minutes after I saw Tim's tickets disappear, I
had the awful feeling that my wish to make his tickets
disappear might have the side effect of making mine go away
as well.  As I have mentioned, I was not exactly sure how
they worked, and in the moment that I had seen his tickets
vanish, I was even willing to give mine up in order to save
other potential victims from Tim.  The fact that my tickets
were still safe where I left them made me feel better.

    I came back inside Jackie's house and smiled at Kristen.

*****

    "I saw what happened outside," Kristen said when we had a
moment alone together.

    "What?"

    "Tim lost his tickets.  You touched them and they
disappeared.  How come it doesn't happen when you hand me the
roll?"

    I shrugged.  "I don't really know."

    "I'm glad he's rid of them.  It's bad enough that you
have them.  I mean... I mean that in a nice way, Jim..."

    I nodded.  "I know, but if I make mine disappear,
somebody else will find them.  Kristen, I keep hoping that
there is a way to fix what I have done to you!"

    Camille walked over to the two of us.  "Are you talking
about what I think you are talking about?"

    I nodded, sadly.

    "You did a good thing outside.  I hope the next person is
more like you and less like that asshole."

    We ended up in a three way hug.

    It was an enjoyable party.  Even Tiny had fun.

*****

    Tiny had to leave early.  Kristen, Camille, and I went
outside with him when June pulled up.

    "Hey, June!" Camille said, cheerily.

    "Was my Teddy Bear a good bodyguard?" June asked.

    "He was perfect," I assured June.

    "The creep that they thought would crash the party
actually showed up.  I managed to show him the error of his
ways."

    "I hope this doesn't become a habit," June said.

    "It won't," I said with some assurance.

    June and Tiny looked at me strangely.

    Before Tiny could get into June's car, both Kristen and
Camille gave Tiny a kiss on his cheek.

    I offered my hand to June, and after a moment, she shook
it.

    As Tiny got into the passenger side, June said, "Did you
know that Tiny plays the trumpet?"

    "Really?" I asked.  I never saw Tiny play an instrument
before.

    "His Uncle Jake was a jazz musician in Chicago."

    I hadn't known this.  "You play?" I asked Tiny.

    "A bit," Tiny admitted.

    That was interesting.  And then, suddenly, I made a
shocking realization.  "Jake Jonas?  The legendary blues
musician?"

    "Yeah," Tiny said, smiling slightly.  "You've heard of
him?"

    "My... um... dad... once took me to see him in Chicago."

    I was always uncomfortable about talking about my real
father.  Also, despite the fact that I truly enjoyed watching
the blues musicians play, my father got drunk and rowdy and
we were asked to leave the pub where we listened to him play.
He also beat me up when we were outside, and then begged
forgiveness.  I really hate my father.

    "He died of a heart attack two years ago," Tiny said, a
bit sadly.

    "I'm sorry to hear that." I felt a bit awkward.  Then, I
realized that if Jake Jonas taught Tiny to play the trumpet,
Tiny might have some talent.  "Would you be interested in the
jazz band?  We have a Spring Concert coming up..."

    Tiny looked at June, who smiled at Tiny.  "You practice
on Thursdays, right?" Tiny asked.

    "Yeah..."

    Tiny said, "I'm free on Thursdays.  I'm usually hanging
around doing homework in the library while June practices
with the cheerleaders.  I'll show up for your next rehearsal
and you can give me an audition."

*****

    The next Thursday, the entire music room became quiet
when Tiny Jonas entered the room with an instrument case.

    There were a few fingers pointing, and I motioned for
Tiny to sit at the seat next to Toby.

    Toby saw Tiny open his case and pull out an old trumpet.
Tiny oiled the valves and ran his fingers over them.  His
eyes opened wide as he realized that Tiny's trumpet looked
nearly identical to the one that I presented to Toby,
although it wasn't as polished as Toby's was.  (For that
matter, when I had that trumpet, it was never as polished as
it was after I gave it to Toby.  He really seemed to cherish
that gift.)

    After hearing Tiny practice with a chromatic scale that
ran two octaves in an equal number of seconds, I realized
that Tiny's playing "a bit" was an understatement.

    I told Tiny earlier that if he could just play the
arrangements, that would be enough of an audition for me,
since none of the other musicians had actually auditioned for
the jazz band.

    I noticed Tiny was hesitant during the first run through
of a song, but on his next attempt he played his part nearly
perfect.

    During this particular rehearsal, I handed out some new
music that I had written myself.  I told Tiny to take the
first eight bar solo to see how he'd do.

    When Tiny took his solo, he floored me with the soulful
notes he could get from the simple chord progression that I
set up.

    At the end of the rehearsal, Tiny graduated from being a
curiosity, as it was very clear to everybody that he was a
much better player than Toby.  People called me a virtuoso,
and I could actually say that his playing was as good as
mine.  I was lucky to have a bunch of other instruments in my
repertoire, just in case I was underestimating his talent!

    Tiny just smiled at me as he left.  I saw Toby running up
to catch up with him.

*****

    The next week during jazz band rehearsal, when the first
solo was to occur, I was surprised to see both Toby and Tiny
get up.  Instead of a solo, they played a well-orchestrated
duet.

    I broke up the rehearsal at that.  "What the fuck was
that?"

    Tiny grinned.  "I think, in Italian, they call that a
'duet.'"

    "Did you guys rehearse that?  That was perfect!"

    Toby nodded.  "You told me to practice.  You are usually
busy on weekends, and I asked Archy last week if I could
practice with him.  We played at his house."

    I shook my head.  "You owe me a dozen sets of ear plugs!"

    The entire band, except Tiny, laughed at that.  One of
the saxophonists whispered something to Tiny and Tiny burst
out with his loud, booming, laughter.  "A dozen!  Man, Oogie,
you're cruel!"

    From the way that Tiny said it, I knew that he said that
with admiration.

    Mr. Proilet was sitting near the back of the room.  He
moved up to me and whispered something to me.  I nodded
sagely.

    I started the song up again, and was prepared for that
duet, which they repeated with a slight variation.  I saw Mr.
Proilet's eyes widen a bit at this.

    I was watching for the duet, and I noticed that the
variation was mostly due to modifications done by Tiny rather
than Toby.

    I continued to direct the song, and it seemed that
everybody was keyed up.  The solos were just a little more
polished, apparently everybody was trying to live up to the
high standards that Tiny and Toby, who I were now thinking of
as "the two T's."

*****

    Kristen and I had plans for the next weekend, which were
subsequently scrapped when June drove up to Kristen's gate
with Tiny.

    "Hey, June," I said over the intercom.  "What's up?"

    "I'm here to ask a favor."

    I looked at Kristen, who already had our suitcases
packed.  She nodded and took the suitcases back to the
bedroom.  I told June to drive up to our apartment.

    "What's up, guys?" I repeated when we met them at the
parking lot.

    "June and I have been talking," Tiny answered.  "I have
been cheating, and I'm really feeling bad about it."

    "Cheating?" I asked.

    "I gave Toby his part of the duet."

    "I knew that," I said, smiling.  "The second time, I
noticed that most of the variation was you."

    "I'm good at solos, and I thought that Toby needed a bit
of confidence.  He asked if we could practice together last
weekend."

    "Yeah.  Mr. Proilet talked with me on Thursday.  We're
going to ask you to be the assistant director, so you can
take over when I can't be at rehearsals."

    "I can't do that, Jim."

    "Why not?"

    Tiny didn't answer.  I was about to prod him when June
spoke up.  "Tiny has a problem, Jim.  He can't read music."

    Tiny can't read music?  He played each of the pieces
nearly flawlessly the first day.  I was stunned, but then I
realized how his first run-through of each piece wasn't as
good as his subsequent performances.

    "Do you mean to tell me that in two rehearsals, you've
managed to perfectly memorize six or seven difficult pieces
mainly by watching Toby play?"

    Tiny looked back at me sheepishly.  "My uncle taught me
to play by ear."

    "Oh," I said, softly.

    "Let's go inside," Kristen said.  "Oogie has a music
studio downstairs."

    Kristen brought June upstairs to the apartment while I
led Tiny to the room that Kristen was starting to make
soundproof.  I had my electric piano and a couple of trumpets
in that room, as well as a lot of works in progress and some
empty music sheets.

    I was lucky in that Tiny knew the notes, he just didn't
recognize the notes on a staff.  I showed him the basics of
reading music.

    It took a couple of hours, but Tiny was determined to
learn how to read music, and I was patient.  I knew that
Kristen and I had plans, but I was not a person who would
deny somebody of Tiny's obvious talent a request for help,
even if he hadn't been so helpful with the handling of Tim
Hawking.

    During one of our breaks, we took a walk outside the
studio and I heard the distinctive sound of pool balls broken.

    I smiled at Tiny, and brought him next door to the
playroom.  Tiny was a bit surprised to see how it was decked
out (just a stereo, television, and the pool table), and we
watched the two girls playing.

    Unlike Camille, June was closer to Kristen's skill level.
The two girls would sink two or three shots in a row.

    "Do you play, Tiny?" I asked.

    "Once or twice," Tiny answered.

    After the girls finished their game, Tiny and I joined in
with our respective girlfriends to play teams.

    It was close, but Kristen and I won, Kristen sinking the
eight ball in a beautiful shot.

    "Pay up," Kristen said.

    "Huh?" Tiny asked, confused.

    "Winners get a kiss from the losers!" Kristen moved over
to Tiny.  He looked embarrassed and looked at me.  I shrugged.

    June watched Tiny kiss Kristen on the cheek, and took her
cue and moved toward me.

    Not wanting an angry Tiny, I did the same, and kissed
June on her cheek.  Her dark complexion reddened slightly.

    "We need to be going," June said, softly.

    Tiny nodded.  "June's mother is very strict."

    We escorted the pair out of the playroom to June's car.

    "It was nice to see your apartment," June said to Kristen.

    "Your whole place is nice," agreed Tiny.

    "Thank you," Kristen said.

    We watched June and Tiny pull out of the parking lot.

    "You think we embarrassed them with that kiss?" Kristen
asked.

    "A little," I said.

    "They make a very nice couple.  June really opened up in
the living room."

    "Really?  What did she say?" I asked.

    "Just girl talk," Kristen said, mysteriously.

    I smiled.  It was nearly four in the afternoon.  "How
about a quick trip to Madison?" I asked.

    Kristen's nose crinkled as she ran upstairs and came back
down with both suitcases.  "You bet, Oogie!"

    Next Monday, before music class, I explained to Mr.
Proilet about Tiny's difficulty.  The next day, he gave me
some elementary music reading texts that weren't aimed at
musical novices, and I forwarded them to Tiny, who showed
quite a lot of appreciation for them.

    He occasionally found time with Mr. Proilet and a
Saturday with me, and continued learning how to read music in
his spare time.

*****

    Valentine's Day was a weekend this year, and Kristen
decided she wanted to visit her brother again.  She convinced
Camille to come as well.

    At Logan Airport in Boston, we saw Will stand there and
stare at us as we exited the jet way.  He didn't move, but
continued to stare.  It was easy to follow his gaze; he was
entirely focused on Camille.

    "Um, Will, you remember Camille... Cammy."

    Will didn't respond, but continued to stare.

    "Earth to Will," Kristen said with humor.

    Suddenly, Will realized he was staring.  "I'm... I'm
sorry..."

    I turned to Camille, who was also staring at Will.
"Cammy?"

    "Yes?" Camille said.

    "You remember Kristen's brother, Will."

    Camille offered her hand, and Will kissed it.

    Kristen and I looked at each other and shrugged.

    Will was between partners; he broke up with Robert
amicably a few weeks before.

    We ate once again at Legal Sea Food, and during the meal,
it was quite clear that Will and Camille were in another
dimension, simply staring at each other, and neither one paid
any particular attention to Kristen and me.

    We originally expected Camille to share our bed, as she
did a few times a week ever since that first night.  However,
she accepted Will's invitation to his room, which didn't
surprise us too much, as the two of them were staring at each
other nearly non-stop since the two laid eyes on one another.

    Kristen and I gave Camille and Will some time alone on
Saturday, and we had reservations at another nice restaurant
for Valentine's Day.  Will and Camille were still doing the
staring thing.  We tried drawing them into conversation, but
every attempt received a single syllable response at most,
and only if they heard us, which wasn't often.

    When we left Logan Airport, Camille and Will shared a
long, ten minute kiss that drew the attention of nearly
everybody at the gate.

    The only thing that was able to separate them was an
insistent flight attendant who told them that Camille was
about to miss the final call for the flight.

    I think Camille seriously considered staying in Boston
with Will.  I was quite surprised to see Camille, who was
sitting alone on the opposite side across the aisle from me.
I know that Camille was physically on the plane, but her
heart had definitely been left in a lovely apartment in
Cambridge.

    Despite her feelings for Will, Camille still spent the
night a few times a week with Kristen and me.

*****

    Aside from my new friendship with Tiny, I found myself
stumbling into Amy more and more.  It was as if she knew my
class schedule and intentionally made herself present in
between classes.  I remembered when she was a shy player, not
saying too much to anybody with the notable exception of
Kristen.  I mentioned this to Kristen, and she told me that
she noticed that Amy was coming out of her shell as well.

    Kristen and Amy were still talking to one another during
the rehearsal.  Kris was playing Mr. Proilet's electric piano
during rehearsals and playing on mine in the music studio at
our apartment, so that she and Amy could play duets--duets
became popular with that particular song after the Two T's
showed their proficiency that first time.  I was very happy
that the band members were taking time to practice together
on their own.

    Amy even started talking to me in the hallways.  I didn't
know how to handle it, so I just listened to what she said,
remembering Kristen's advice a few months earlier, and I
talked back to her.

*****

    A couple of weeks before the Spring Concert, I asked
Kristen to make a special trip to the Junior High to pick up
Merry for our jazz band rehearsal.

    There was a bit of buzz in the music room as they noticed
Merry sitting on a tall stool right next to my podium.  I
didn't explain Merry's purpose to anybody.  I wanted to see
the reaction of the band (including Mr. Proilet, who was
sitting in the back, as usual).

    We started with the song I wrote, which I referred to as
the "_Fisherman Variations_." I figured out the chord
progression from something that I quite enjoyed, and I
brought Merry in on the joke, and she agreed to play along
with it.  I red-lighted the room, making the only people in
the room the musicians, myself, Merry, and Mr. Proilet.  The
members of the chorus, who were part of other songs, were
waiting patiently outside.

    Before I started the song, I told everybody that I was
going to add a sixteen-bar vocal solo at the point right
before the finale.  They seemed confused, since Merry wasn't
known as a singer, even in Junior High.

    We started the song, and Kristen and Amy took the first
eight-bar duet.  The other duets followed, with the Two T's
doing the last duet.  It was now time for Merry's solo, and
Amy, Sam, and the drummer started a light chord accompaniment
as Merry started singing at my cue.

    The entire band was so stunned when Merry finished that
they all missed their cue for the big finale.

    The song degenerated at that point, and Mr. Proilet
started laughing.  "I thought the chord progression sounded
familiar, Jim," he said, coming up to my podium.

    "Thanks, Mr. P."

    "Merry, that was one hundred percent cute," Mr. Proilet
said, smiling at my sister.

    I turned to the rest of the band.  "Do you think we can
do it again, this time not missing the finale?"

    Everybody looked sheepish.  I actually expected the
laughter to interrupt the song, which is why I brought Merry
in a couple of weeks before the actual performance.

    We did the song again, Merry did her solo, and this time,
there was no hesitation that prevented the finale.

    Still, at the end, there was a lot of levity in the room.

    I swore everybody to secrecy.  "If this gets out to too
many people," I said, "it will spoil the surprise, and with
this song, the surprise is everything!"

    Everybody swore that they wouldn't tell.  Unfortunately,
I heard the song occasionally sung in the hallways, and not
only by band members.  I hoped the song would go over well
live as well as it did the second time we rehearsed it with
Merry.

*****

    When the Spring Concert arrived, the jazz band was once
again the closing act.  A lot of people attended the
concert... even more than during the Christmas Concert, which
was actually unusual.

    I asked Patty to use her artistic talents to create
Merry's special props.  She didn't understand what they
represented, but I knew she'd understand when Merry did her
performance.

    My mother, step-father, and just about everybody that I
knew, including the very busy Mr. Swift and his wife, were in
attendance.  The room was standing room only, and I think we
may have violated a fire code with the crowd in attendance.

    When I walked on stage with the rest of the band for the
first part of the concert, I heard people start to chant,
"Oogie!"

    I didn't respond to the chants.  This first part wasn't
even the jazz band, just the third period class that Mr.
Proilet taught.  This wasn't about me, and I was embarrassed
a bit.  Heck, none of the concert, not even the jazz band,
was about me.  It was only possible to put on a great
performance with great performers, not just the conductor.  I
knew that Leonard Bernstein conducting a group of five year
old kids who never saw an instrument before wouldn't sound
very well.

    After we played our numbers, the high school chorus did
their songs.  They were nicely done, and my good friend Roy
sang a featured solo in the song _Colour My World_, followed
by a lovely flute solo from one of the women in the
orchestral band.  I recognized the flutist as a junior, and
made a mental note to invite her to the jazz band next year.
Watching her play gave me an idea for some songs by Ian
Anderson of Jethro Tull.

    It was now time for the jazz band to appear.  As we set
up, more and more people started to chant, "Oogie!  Oogie!"

    I sighed.  It was kind of embarrassing.  I mean, I worked
my ass off, but so did over a dozen other very dedicated
people.  It wasn't fair for me to be singled out like that.

    I set up for the first song, which featured an extra-long
featured solo by Tiny Jonas.  It was very well received.

    We played the rest of our set, leaving the "_Fisherman
Variations_" for last.

    Amy started the intro to the song, and soon the entire
band broke up into eight-bar duets.  Each was met by
enthusiastic applause.

    Finally, during the duet by the Two T's, two members of
the chorus rolled Merry onto the stage.  She was sitting on a
step-ladder, in front of which was a large sheet of paper
that looked like bricks.  The effect was that Merry was
sitting on a cartoon brick wall.

    In Merry's hand was a stick with a string on it: She was
the fisherman for her solo.  There was a microphone
strategically placed in front of Merry.

    After the Two T's finished their duet, to very
enthusiastic applause when Merry started singing:

        My bologna has a first name,
        It's O-S-C-A-R.
        My bologna has a second name,
        It's M-A-Y-E-R.
        I like to eat them ev'ry day,
        And if you ask me why I'll say,
        That Oscar Mayer has a way
        With B-O-L-O-G-N-A!


    Merry's solo was greeted by laughter and applause from
the audience, but at the same time, the entire band geared up
for the grand finale, which was strong on brass mostly
because I anticipated the audience's reaction.

    When the song ended, the audience stood up for a standing
ovation.

    I was floored.  I expected laughter and applause, but not
another standing ovation.

    I turned to the band, and they all stood in recognition.

    The applause didn't die down, and as I led the orchestra
offstage, I started hearing chants of "Oogie!" and "Encore!"

    I sighed.  I hadn't planned on another encore.  Roy, who
was standing off to the side of the stage watching the
performance from the wings, said, "We have everybody here
that did _Lollipops and Roses_ from Kristen's party."

    That was an excellent idea.  The audience was getting
more raucous, and it sounded as if they might stampede.

    I told everybody to find the music to _Lollipops_, and
for those that didn't have it to either improvise or pretend
to play.  I got the featured singers from Kristen's birthday
party as well.  Luckily, there wasn't a mike on me, so Roy
did the male solo alone.

    All in all, it was a very well received concert.  My
mother and step-father were extremely proud of Merry and me,
as were Kristen's parents.

*****

    Back at Kristen's apartment, Kristen told me, "That song
makes me cry."

    "Which one?  Merry's solo?"

    "No, you dork!  _Lollipops_.  I used to listen to that
song a lot when I was very young.  I think it was my parents'
favorite song at the time, since I heard it so much."

    "I didn't know that.  I just thought it was a pretty song
that allowed plenty of opportunities for improvisation, which
is really what you want to do when picking out a jazz
repertoire."

    "Don't make it sound so clinical, Jim," Kristen said.
"Just say, 'I thought it was a romantic song,' and let it
drop."

    "I thought it was a romantic song," I said, meaning every
word.

    Kristen threw me into a hug that evolved into one of her
erection special kisses.  "I love you, Oogie!"

    "I love you, my lovely blonde Goddess!"

*****

    It wasn't long after the Spring Concert that things
started getting hectic.  There was the Senior Musical (_Music
Man_).  Earlier that year, we had open auditions in the
Junior High for the part of Amaryllis, Marian the Librarian's
music student, and for Winthrop, Marian's brother.  Both
parts were for younger people, and it was an opportunity for
junior high students to participate in the musical.

    I helped Merry learn the "over-hand exercise" song that
Amaryllis plays on the piano in the play, and I secretly
hoped that Merry would win the part, but I think that the
faculty director thought that if Merry got the part, claims
of nepotism might be charged, since I was a regular fixture
of the school musical since I was in seventh grade.

    I had to admit that the girl they chose had a better
singing voice--almost an adult's voice--whereas Merry's voice
was more of a childlike quality, which I thought was more
apropos for the character.  However, I didn't play favorites
once the part was cast, and helped the girl, whose name was
Mary, learn the "over-hand exercise" and other musical parts
that she needed to learn.  I realized while I was working
with Mary that her voice was much more suited than Merry's
was for the _Goodnight, My Someone_ duet that she sang with
the leading lady in the musical.

    Merry, for her part, got a part in the play in the band
that Harold Hill "directs." I taught her how to properly hold
a clarinet, and then showed her how to hold it slightly wrong
in order to look appropriate for the part, but still be able
to play a note that was in the correct key.  (I convinced Mr.
Proilet that I could get the rag-tag actors on the stage band
to actually play their real part.  It was a suggestion I grew
to regret!)

    Kristen, Patty, and Camille, meanwhile, were spending
most of their time with the Senior Prom, and didn't have time
to help out with the musical.

    Mr. Proilet had his hands full getting an orchestral band
to get the brass parts working properly for the show stopping
tunes, and I brought Tiny on board--I just needed to work
with him for a couple of hours before he got the songs
correct, since he still was a novice at sight reading music.
Tiny made my life easier, as he could help me by acting as an
assistant director when I was working with the "specialty
music" including the barber shop quartet numbers.

    Don't let anybody tell you that a high school musical is
a simple affair.  It most certainly isn't.  The type of
people who aspire to be actors, musicians, and singers tend
to be prima-donnas, and everybody offered their own ideas on
how everything should be done properly.

    Kristen attempted to get the movie version of the musical
with Robert Preston and Shirley Jones on Betamax, but it
wasn't available.  There was a soundtrack album, although it
wasn't still in print, but Kristen's dad managed to have a
copy of it from the 1960s that wasn't too scratched up.

    The more I heard the soundtrack album, the more I thought
the person that was playing Harold Hill might not be perfect
for the part.  He did have a forceful voice, which would be
useful for the _Trouble_ number (one of the showstoppers that
I was assigned), but he didn't have the range for the _Till
There Was You_ and _Marian the Librarian_ numbers (actually,
he did have the range, but he couldn't hold the notes long
enough without bending them, which sounded quite phony).

    Fortunately for me, my friend Roy was able to work with
that actor for a week, and actually improved the actor's
voice, explaining how to breathe and other tricks of the
trade.  The person playing the part was more an actor than a
singer, and Roy's dedication to his singing craft really
helped the actor.

    I didn't think the musical would be ready for the date we
were planning, but in the last few weeks, everything started
to really come together, including the phony musicians, much
to my surprise.

    This was the first time I was involved in the direction
of the school musical.  Before, I was just a performer and
not a person actually charged with putting things together.
It was a lot of work, and it made me think back to the past
three years when I was a prima-donna myself.

    The musical pulled together, and word of mouth after the
first performance sold out the other three performances.  We
were even requested to do a special performance at the Junior
High, since a lot of their members had parts on stage--two of
them pretty important as well.  Despite a couple of technical
problems due to the differences in the auditoriums between
the High School and the Junior High, the kids seemed to
really enjoy the musical, or maybe it was the time off from
classes that the musical afforded them.

--
jimc_author@hotmail.com

JiMC is only a pseudonym.  Respect my privacy and I'll respect yours.

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reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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