Another Installment of the Kadeezler Saga . . .

I must say, my poor male protagonist isn't coming off so well at this point. In truth, at this point, even I wouldn't follow him to the Trolley Market, let alone across the entire country. Oh, well. Mr. K. will get his chance to shine in the next chapter. And, I apologize for a significant lack of Dorf here. No worries. He figures prominently throughout the story. Just wait until they get in the car . . . Good times ahead. Stay tuned.
Love, Amy

Chapter Three: Mike Kadeezler, Purveyor of Nothing and Everything

And, where exactly was Mike Kadeezler during all this time? What was he doing? Mike Kadeezler was at home in his apartment, or Mike Kadeezler was at work in the mall bookstore, or Mike Kadeezler was at his other job in the comic book store downtown. And, Mike Kadeezler was always having girl problems. Lisa, beautiful Lisa, had been the bane of his existence since the day that he had met her . . . Five years ago. Now, they were “off again.” They had only been “on again” for about three weeks (with Lisa actually being out of town visiting relatives for two of those three weeks) before yet another giant battle between his lady fair and himself had happened, and Mike had emerged wounded, at least temporarily single, and not entirely sure as to what they had been fighting over to begin with. This was the way things had gone from the beginning of their exceedingly tumultuous courtship. Either Mike or Lisa had declared the “death” of the union thirty-seven times over the course of five years, with such “demises” lasting anywhere from one twenty-four hour stretch to an entire month before relationship resuscitation had invariably occurred.

It was day two of this, the most recent, “breakup.” Val had called that morning, eager to schedule a lunch date if it were possible. Lisa had contacted her the night before in order to tell her that Mike would be free, and Val was happy to be of service if her services were needed. Lisa and Val were friends. They were actually very close. And, when Mike and Lisa were “on the outs,” Mike and Val were even closer. It was an unusual arrangement to say the least. Jesse, the local anime-obsessed hermaphrodite, liked to say that Val’s fate would ultimately be to join the Philharmonic Orchestra, where she could play second fiddle for the rest of her life. Mike was aware of the fact that he was essentially being shared between two women, and he wasn’t quite sure as to how it had ever come to be this way. He never thought about the rightness or wrongness of the thing, or just the sheer stupidity of the situation. He lived within a small mountain community consisting primarily of college students. This kind of thing, in spite of its inherent perverseness (or maybe even because of it) seemed almost normal in that environment.

Mike had agreed to meet Val for lunch at Vincent’s Ear. He had only ever had tea there, but he had heard that they made a good hummus plate, and that girl might be there again. What was her name? Jen. Yes, Jen might be there. He didn’t exactly know what he might say to her if he saw her, especially with Val being there, but Jen had been stuck in his head for whatever reason, and Jen had entered into his thoughts more than a few times, and it might have even been possible that Jen had been at least part of the reason why he hadn’t put up much resistance when Lisa had called it quits with him this time. Maybe. Just maybe.

It had been a week since Jen had last seen Mike, one long week of pondering, speculation, hoping, fearing, and wondering. So, her heart jumped and sank, almost in one motion, as he walked in, then she walked in. Whomever she was, she was pretty in the way that pretty girls are typically pretty, with big brown eyes, simple, straight, honey-colored hair, clear skin, and very good boobs. Jen sighed. She simply hadn’t resigned herself to what her rational mind would have looked upon as inevitable. He had a girlfriend. Of course he had a girlfriend. She somehow managed to smile through her disappointment as Mike and his girlfriend apparent approached the counter. “Hey, fairy tea! How’s Life’s Rich Pageant been treating you?”

Mike grinned. “Hey, Jen. What’s up?”

He remembered. Oh, my freakin’ God, he freakin’ remembered. “My blood pressure.” Okay, that was stupid.

“Huh?”

“My blood pressure . . . Is up. I have exams this week for my first session summer classes. It’s been a little intense.” Jen belched up one of those nervous little twittery laughs that she absolutely despised, and immediately wanted to die. “So, would you like your usual?”

“Oh, yeah, you know it. We fairies gotta drink, right? And, uh, I’d like to try some of that hummus that you guys make, if that’s okay.”

“Sure. Do you want the veggies or the tortilla chips with that?”

“Let’s go with veggies.”

Finally, The Girl spoke. “Yeah, I’ll have the hummus too, only I’ll take chips with mine, and I’d love a Jolt with that. I too am doing the exam thing right now, and it’s kicking my ass pretty hard. You’re at UNCA, right? I know I’ve seen you around. Those are bitchin’ boots, by the way.”

Jen unconsciously looked down at her purple velvet Docs as she wrote up the orders. She smiled genuinely when she looked up again. She was glad that he at least seemed to have a cool girlfriend. “Thanks, and, yeah, I go there. I’m a biology major.”

“Oh, yeah? Pre-med?”

“Nope, just Pre-life, I guess. I don’t really know what I want to do yet, but I like bacteria, and there’s a lot of that in biology. What’s your story?”

“I’m doing a double in French and Business Administration.”

“Wow. Sounds like a recipe for success, to be sure.”

“Please. It’s just to make my parents happy. I really want to sing. I mean, I do sing, but, I’d like to, you know, get paid for it.”

Mike interjected here, “Hey, I pay you.”

The Girl rolled her eyes. “Right, you bastard. You pay me in beer.”

Mike laughed. “You’ve never complained before, you freakin’ lush.”

The Girl laughed. She punched him playfully. “Shut up.”

Mike playfully punched The Girl back. “Make me.”

Jen felt like now would be a really good time to be metaphysically challenged. “Okay, guys. I’ll go ahead and get your drinks, and your food will be out soon.” She finished writing out the order and started to turn towards the kitchen.

“Oh, hey.” The Girl was talking to her. “Like I said, I’ve seen you around, but I’ve never caught your name.”

Jen started to give a reply when Mike answered for her, “Val, this is Jen, purveyor of fine fairy tea. Jen, this is Val, purveyor of crap songs that I play for her because I’m nice.”

Val rolled her eyes again. “Great intro, troglodyte.” She put out her hand. “Hey, I’m Val.”

Jen took her hand briefly and smiled. “Jen.”

“Hey, nice name, nice tats.”

Mike interjected again, “Hey, watch your mouth! You just met the girl!”

Val punched Mike again, but significantly harder this time. “I said TATS, you perverted crapbag!” She rolled her eyes again. “Pay no attention to this bitch. He thinks he’s all kinds of funny. Whatever.”

Mike rubbed his arm. “Hey, that hurt.”

Another eye roll from Val, and, “Whatever, bitch.” She turned her attention back to Jen. So, Jen, what are you doing on Saturday?”

Forcing herself to direct all of her attention to the tasks at hand, It took a moment for Jen to realize that a question had been directed at her. She added the strawberry syrup to the tea, and put the cup on the counter. “What? I’m sorry . . . Oh. Saturday? I’m not sure yet. Why?”

Val leaned across the counter and smiled. “Well, THIS (She stuck her thumb out and back towards Mike’s general direction) guy’s band will be playing at Poncho’s, and I’m singing, and you should totally come.”

Jen’s brain had completely left the building at this point, and all she really heard was, “band,” so she fought hard to connect that with something, with anything. Putting a Jolt cola on the counter beside of the tea, she said, “My friend Dorf has a band,” and then she mentally kicked herself, because that truly had come out of nowhere. However, Mike seemed to take interest.

“Really? What are they called?”

“Um . . . Pus Filled Boil on the Shit Stained Ass of a Sweaty Dog . . . This week, anyway.”

Mike chuckled. “Nice. Very creative.”

Jen grinned. “Yeah. That’s Dorf. Creative would be a euphemism, but, yeah. He’s something.”

Mike was giving her his full attention now. “It sounds like you have very interesting friends.”

Jen had actually managed to start thinking again, and that made things significantly easier. “Well, I like to think so. Even if I’m not that interesting, I like to surround myself with interesting people. That way, I might at least be interesting by association, right?” Okay, Jen thought, That was pretty weak, but at least it was coherent. But . . . Jesus! How many times can I say the word, “interesting?” Christ. Get a fucking thesaurus, why don’t you . . .

Mike smiled at her. She noticed that he had a small goatee and very nice teeth, with just the slightest hint of an overbite. Good cheekbones. His eyes were nearly black. “Well, that’s a decent philosophy, but I'm willing to bet that you don’t need anyone’s help where interesting is concerned.”

Val interjected. “Hey, don’t mind loser boy, here. He flirts with everyone. If it’s got boobs, he’ll flirt with it, man boobs included. Hey, is that our food?”

It was their food. Jen shook herself from the Mike induced trance, and turned towards the kitchen. She took the two baskets from the window, turned back around, and placed them on the counter with the drinks. “Here you go. I hope the hummus lives up to its name. She then turned towards the cash register. Val took the food and went to find a table. Mike stayed behind, presumably to pay the bill. He handed her a twenty. “Keep the change.”

“But . . . Your total’s only--”

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Well . . . Okay. Thanks. That’s very generous of y--”

“You can show your appreciation by being there on Saturday night.” He took her hand, the one that wasn’t holding the twenty-dollar bill. His hand was warm. It was soft and calloused at the same time. Guitar calluses. It made sense. His eyes found hers, and, together, they shut the world out. “Poncho’s. Saturday night. We play at ten. You’ll be there, right?”

It wasn’t how she had planned it, but it was still perfect. She was at work. She was behind a counter. There was another girl there. None of it signified anything. She was there. He was there. They could have been in a field, in a tree, or surrounded by thousands of people in a train station in Tokyo. They were all that mattered when his eyes met hers. Jen wanted to stay like this forever, but the boy had clearly asked a question, so she answered. “I’ll be there.”