Left Behind Ch. 03: End

"Not bad. I went back to LAS POZAS. Almost walked into that place next door by mistake, you know, the church that looks like a steak house or pub?"

"Oh yeah, that's because it was a steak house before the Lutherans got it. They changed the lettering from BEEF'N'BREW to CROSS'N'CROWN and lots of people don't notice. They get disappointed hungry customers almost every night."

"Ha! Anyway, I had lots of fun, as in: Lots. Of. Fun! Except when Guy came on to me, anyway. But I made new friends, got a couple new phone numbers, and got home alive."

"Huh? What's that about Guy?"

"Oh, he was playing with lots of girls at the club. And he wanted me to spend the night with him. He even followed me home and tried to sweet-talk me. But I have rules, y'know. He's yours, and unless you're there saying it's okay, then it's NOT okay."

"Umm, by 'playing', you mean...??"

"Yeah, he was off in dark corners, or out back. Yeah, he had a good time. No, he didn't let his meat loaf."

Serena almost whispered. "That sonovabitch." Her volume rose. "I told him that he had to be unobtrusive if he wanted time with me." And louder. "I told him I wouldn't play around on him, and I wanted him for myself." Even louder. "I TOLD him not to mess with you!" Almost screaming. "AND THAT SHITHEAD PLAYS GAMES ON ME?! AND WITH YOU?! THAT FUCKER!!"

Serena calmed. "Thanks for shutting him down, cousin. I think me and him are maybe going to have a little talk. Yes, a talk - and maybe I won't murder the slimebag. Then again, maybe I will..."

"No confessions on the phone, girl. The NSA listens to everything, you know. Better not murder Guy, or even cut his nuts off, not after leaving evidence. Just kick him out. What's the Gringo saying? Good riddance to bad rubbish."

"Yeah," Serena sighed. "Yeah, it's time to get some blood tests, yeah, and to find a new boy. You've got Dave, right?"

"I could have him if I wanted. I'm still looking around. Hey, I've been free and legal for, what, three days? After half a lifetime of servitude? I don't think I'm quite ready yet for full-time with anybody. I've got wild oats to sow, that kind of thing. Or... are you asking if Dave's available, or do I have a claim on him?"

"No no no. I've hiked with Dave before. He's a great kid. We have no spark. We're only weekend friends. Speaking of which, where are you now, and will you be around tomorrow for another hike?"

"I'm playing tourist in San Narcisco right now. And..."

Serena grunted. "Narcisco, right. Lots of narcissism there. Are you doing anything fabulous?"

"I'm just taking in the sights and sounds and tastes, that's all. It's a lot more interesting than Guadalajara or Acapulco or Tucson. Kind of expensive, though. And yes, I'll be ready to hike tomorrow. Where are we going?"

"We'll stomp through giant redwood groves in a place called Armstrong Woods, off the Russian River. Flat, easy, quiet, and beautiful. It's like walking through a huge cathedral you can yodel in."

"That sounds good. Yes, I'll be there."

"Great! And now, I think I'll wake up some more, and then I'll find Guy and feed him down the garbage disposal, the cabron. What a shithead!"

*****

Rosa rode across the Bay Bridge and looped north through Napa and Sonoma before returning to Petaluma. Serena was not home, and Rosa did not feel like phoning for an update. She fixed a simple meal, wore slutwear (and nothing else) under her tight leathers again, and rode to TANGERINE for more non-alcoholic fun. Lots. Of. Fun. And no sign of Serena or Nguyen.

Non-alcoholic, for sure. Drunk motorbikers don't survive long here.

She danced, and played, and danced some more, and went home alone. She felt great the next morning when Serena rap-a-tap-tapped on her door.

"Guy is history", Serena said. "I've got a future and he is NOT in it. And the present is... right now. Let's get out of here."

The hiking group assembled near Santa Rosa's central mall, the old downtown until the 1969 earthquake shook it all apart, kablooie. Wise folks avoided the multi-level parking structures. We do not want to be crushed in the next Big One, right?

Rosa hugged and kissed Dave and hopped into his van. Serena and Ayesha followed, complete with hugs and kisses (but no tongue!) while other intrepid souls took their seats without that level of intimacy. The husky red-haired Callaghan sisters just smiled.

A nice walk in the gargantuan woods. Fresh, cool, spicy redwood-scented air. Fabulous aeons-old greenery. Giant banana slugs, ewww. Much joking and jabbing. A little grab-assing. Afterwards, survivors munched and drank and laughed at outdoor tables at a Dogtown eatery. All Dogtown had a musty, moldy odor from the regular floods. Do not be here during heavy rains.

Physics professor and Army Reserves captain Ernie Siciliani pontificated jovially. He waved his beer stein to emphasize a point.

"There was this song from before I was born. My folks loved it and played it all the time. DON'T HANG UP, by 10CC. That was a smart Brit band, had a few big hits, but people thought they were smart-asses, what the Brits call clever-dicks. Had all sorts of lyrics. One line from the song, "You've got to learn about women, women," set me up for life." He quaffed his Stan's Wicked Ale and waved for another.

"So you take your mating cues from primeval music?" Katie Callaghan smirked.

"When appropriate, sure. Anyway, there's another line in the song a couple times, goes, 'You know I've never had the dash or the style of Errol Flynn, but I love you.' And whenever I heard that, I plugged in other names. 'I've never had the dash or the style of Rin-Tin-Tin,' or Howard Zinn, or Gunga Din, or Idi Amin."

Some of the younger hikers looked blank. The names meant nothing. Deidre Callaghan noticed and chortled.

"Hey Ernie, these kids don't know who the fuck you're talking about. Ancient fucking history. Pre-Internet means it doesn't matter."

Dave Dillon interrupted. "I'm no history major, but I know that Idi Amin was a boxing champ and cannibalistic dictator from Uganda - he's still in exile in Saudi Arabia, right? And Howard Zinn was a lefty historian, died not long ago. Gunga Din and Rin-Tin-Tin, they're, like, old literature. And Errol Flynn... an actor, right? A horny actor? 'In like Flynn' and all that?"

Ernie seemed impressed. "Okay, so you're not a total idiot after all. Or maybe you're obsessed with old stuff. That can be hazardous to your mental health, if any." Was Ernie hinting that Rosa was old stuff?

Rosa was impressed, too, but not by Dave's erudition. She took him home that night and sent him away happy the next morning.

*****

MONDAY

Rosa awoke intertwined with Dave before her clock alarm buzzed.

"Hi there, hombre. Have a good rest?" She kissed him.

He nuzzled her neck and dropped his lips to her breasts. She ooh'ed and aah'ed as he licked around her aerolae and slurped her nipples. His mouth worked up her throat to her lips again. "Yes," he whispered, "very good."

She dropped her head to suck his nipples too... and the alarm buzzed. "Damn," she muttered, pulling away. "This is my first day at work. Can't be late. Gotta get up now. Gotta. Gotta..."

A bit more lovemaking; a quick shower; fresh coffee and easy breakfast burritos; dressing, regretfully. Rosa shoved Dave out the studio door (with the now-usual embracing and oral interaction) just as Serena walked up.

"Bye, Dave - don't be a stranger," she teased. He blushed and dashed away. She turned to Rosa. "So you had the kid here again, huh? Twice in one week? Will he be a regular?"

"It's too soon to tell, but for now, why not?" Rosa's messenger bag was stuffed with snack bars and her ThinkPad. "And now we're off to the salt mines, right? Tote that barge, lift that bale, dump this byte-bucket, caramba!" She mimicked swinging a sledge hammer.

"Sobres, exactly right. We'll have you broken-in there in no time."

"So how did it go with Guy? Dumping him, I mean. How did he take it?"

They slid into the seats of Serena's Celica. Serena gunned the engine and crushed a too-slow squirrel as she peeled from her parking spot. She sighed.

"He IS such a baby! He begged, threatened, promised, prayed, did just about everything except admit that he's a fucking baboso, a drooling fool, a damn dog who can't keep his dick out of the dirt." Serena checked her mirror and swerved into a hole in the traffic. "Yeah, he's gone now. I hope I can stay friends with his brother Sammy, without Guy being around. Sammy and Lily are good people."

"Yeah, I really like them, too." They were both quiet during the remainder of the short drive to the data center.

Today was a learning experience for Rosa. She needed a map to navigate the data center, and a structure chart to figure which department did what, to what, and where. She was glad for the mandatory nametags; she would learn the people, too. HR filled her morning with orientation briefings. She was breathless by lunchtime.

She joined Serena, Ayesha, and their friend Terence (short, wide, pale, sarcastic, and gay) in the snack room.

"Having a good first day here in the funhouse?" Terence asked. "Are you totally confounded yet? We have a saying here: 'The sucker who laughs has not yet heard the terrible news.'"

Ayesha slapped his arm. "That's Bertholt Brecht, and it's 'the man who laughs', and nobody says that here but you. Grow up, boy!"

The young black woman towered over the dumpy blond manager twice her age. He peered up at her. "Just wait till the next crisis. You'll see, you'll see."

Rosa eyed her packaged sandwich suspiciously and took a cautious bite. Could be worse, she thought. She chewed, swallowed, and spoke.

"I think I'm getting the hang of it. I've got to learn some new protocols, but most of the technical stuff is familiar. But some of the procedures look... well, they're a bit to digest." She waved her hand meal. "Like this so-called food."

"Welcome to the sick world of our lunchroom," Serena snorted. "This is why we usually go out for lunch - except on busy days. And first days and Mondays are always busy. Me, I'll stick with the Monday Moonpie." She held up her ice-cream sandwich. "It's not healthy, but it's reliable. Sort of like Terence."

They bantered and bullshitted, and returned to their tasks. Rosa's head really was spinning dizzily by the end of the day and her messenger bag was stuffed with folders and discs of material to review. Much, much...

Serena collected her cousin at her desk.

"Put that shit down! The day is over! Let's get out of here. I'm about ready for a Balinese dinner and some sweaty dancing - got to start auditioning Guy's repleacments. What do you say?" She smiled encouragingly.

Rosa shook her head. "Go ahead. Well, get me back home first. But no way, I've got a lot to soak up here" - pointing at her bagful of materials - "stuff I've got to know if I want to do this job right. And I do. I'm pretty conscientous, y'know. Also, I need to run. I missed my jog this morning."

"Oh, you'll pick it up fast enough. And you jogged pretty hard in bed, I bet. Or is this just an excuse? You going to sneak Dave back in tonight?" She tilted her head quizzically.

Rosa shrugged. "No... but really. I just won't feel right if I don't hit the ground running. I'll have time to play real soon. But for now, this is it."

Serena's eyes jiggled. "Be like that, then. Okay, I'll drop you at home. Do you need to stop on the way? Hit a market or something?"

"I'm pretty well stocked-up, thanks. And maybe I'll be ready for fun tomorrow night." She slung her heavy tote over her shoulder and groaned. "Fuck, what a load! Yeah, homeward bound, that's where I am now."

Back home, Rosa dumped her workload, slipped into her running togs, and headed out onto the paved trail. The track looked different in the twilight. Cattle and horses did not recognize her.

This was an engage-brain-and-mull jog.

She mulled over the day's inundation of information. She could manage the overload, for sure.

She mulled over Dave. She could handle him too, right? Probably.

She mulled over the club scene. Only two clubs so far! What else could be in store for her here? How many more friends awaited her?

She mulled over her general situation. Shit, all this in only, what, two weeks? Yeah, it was two Mondays ago that she was LEFT BEHIND by her rotten family at that little loncheria outside Corpus Christi, Texas.

Two weeks to total transformation. Transformed from neglected housewife to road warrior to independent woman, from drudge-drone to horny predator.

She mulled over her family. Good riddance to Bobo. Their kids... ah, she would think of something. The other relatives too. But in the future, not now. Could she really leave everything? Got to ficure out the local future.

Which brought her back to the clubs, and the hikes, and Dave. Was Dave hot? For sure! Was he enough? Nope. She wanted to stay on good terms with him, so she would not troll for bedmates on hikes when he was there. But he was too young for the clubs, and she was not, and she had many hot options for fun.

Dave was still on her mind when Rosa returned home from her run. She sank into the shower with busy fingers. Ahhhh... better than nothing. She climbed out, dried, and dressed in her usual shorts and an azure Frida Kahlo tee.

She was stewing pork and chile for chilayo on her little kitchenette stove when the rap-a-tap-tap sounded on her door. Hmmm, why would Serena be here so early? She turned the heat down to simmer and opened the door.

A fist slammed into her gut.

"BITCH! WHORE! CUNT! TWO-TIMER! TRAITOR! DYKE CUNT! PIECE OF SHIT! RAT ME OUT, WILL YOU! FUCKING CUNT! SHIT-EATING SLUT! YOU..."

Nguyen's hands pounded her torso, bruised her breasts, ripped her shirt, tried to knock her down. But Rosa had learned self-defense and dirty fighting moves in her wild days. She swirled away from him and kicked his nuts with her heel. Hard.

Nguyen, in his usual black jeans and tee, hit the floor with his hands between his legs. His yell emerged more as a comical squeak that a threatening bellow.

"OWWW... I'm gonna..."

She rammed her heel into his testacles again. He squeaked again, incoherently. Even barefoot, that hurt.

"You're gonna WHAT, you piece of shit? C'mon, louder - I can't hear you."

He tried to raise himself. She kicked him once more. Harder. He fell back.

Except for the pain he inflicted on her, this was almost funny, Rosa thought. She looked down at the Tonkinese curled in a fetal ball on her threshold. Yeah, almost funny. Almost.

She smiled. It was not a gentle smile. She always kept a baseball bat beside her door. She used it, with a bit of leverage, to maneuver the groaning turd to the doorway, and out. She tapped him with the bat every time he moved. When he was off her little porch, she leaned the bat back inside. She did not need it as a weapon now.

"You cheated on Serena. No more." She kicked his ankles.

"You tried to beat me up. No more." She kicked his bent knees.

"You are a worthless piece of shit. Evermore." She kicked his nuts once more, not gently. He shriveled and shivered.

"Next time I see you, it's adios. As in, adios motherfucker." She tapped his head with her heel. It was not a love-tap. She stepped back. "¿Comprendes? You got that?"

She did not wait for answer. She felt a need to urinate. She suppressed a sudden urge to pull her shorts off and piss on him, maybe more. But no; she had learned long ago not to foul your own doorstep.

Rosa left him a few words before she closed her door on his writhing form.

"You are such a fucking moron. What do the kids say now? Fucktard. Yes, you're a fucktard, Guy. There are surveillance cameras everywhere, aimed at all the doors. You were recorded committing a felony assault. You want to stay out of San Quentin? Then stay the fuck away from me. And from Serena. Forever and ever, amen. You got that? We ever see or hear you again, you'll be Brownie's bitch in cellblock B for a few years. Have fun, motherfucker."

She returned to the stove just in time to save the chilayo from burning. Good; she did not want to start over.

She looked at herself - tee torn and sweaty, body bruised some - and she really did have to pee. She stripped en-route to the shower and released her flow with relief. Ahhh...

Rosa ate her dinner and curled up on the couch with the study materials and a glass of sangria. That's where she woke up in the morning.

*****

TUESDAY-SUNDAY

The rap-a-tap-tap came at her door Tuesday morning. Rosa peered through the spyhole. Yes, it was Serena, alone, smiling and dressed for work.

"Morning, girl. Ready for your second day at the grind?"

"Sure enough. You have a good time last night?"

"It was great! I'll tell you about it on the way to work. How about you?"

"Well, after I beat Guy to a pulp, everything was fine."

"Huh? What about Guy? Was he here?"

"Oh, you didn't hear? I was cooking dinner and I heard your knock on my door. Only it was Guy, pretending to be you. He punched me and screamed at me, said your breaking up with him was all my fault."

"Shit! He punched you? Are you okay? What did you do?"

"That fucktard imbécil tried to beat me up with my front door open, right in front of the security cameras. But he's never fought Mexican girls before, the maricón. What a pussy! I kicked his ass. No, I kicked his nuts, and his head, and other places, but I never quite got around to his skinny butt."

"What? You really...??"

"Fuck, yes! And I let him know if he ever showed himself or bothered either of us again, I'd press felony charges and he'd do hard time. I sure hope we've seen the last of him."

"Damn, I'm so sorry I ever got you involved with Guy. Now I'm sorry I got myself involved with him. What a rat-bastard!"

Serena rolled into the data center's parking lot. Back to work.

*****

The work day went well. Serena took Rosa to another club that night, set in an industrial campus on Petaluma's eastern edge. Rosa did not drive, so she drank her vodka fizzes, and danced her ass off, and played with many boys and girls, but did not go home with any of them. And she only felt a little guilt over having so much fun.

The rest of the workweek was similar. Rosa ran every morning and learned new network tricks every day. The cousins hit a different club every night with a few familiar faces (and groins). All the clubs were within a half-hour drive of their northside Petaluma apartments. All were frequented by hot young people, mostly more than ten years younger than Rosa, who had obligations the next morning, as did Serena and Rosa. All left Rosa feeling energized and predatory.

Friday night was different. Serena met a guy, LaMonte. Rosa met two guys, Wili and Dov, roommates sharing a house south of Cotati. Neither cousin returned to Petaluma that night. Neither spent the night alone.

A long time had passed since Rosa's college days. Since then, she had not been spit-roasted nor otherwise teamed-up. She was very happy, especially that Dov and Wili had a large supply of condoms. She did not crawl home until Saturday mid-afternoon.

Saturday night at TANGERINE brought pounding rain and more change. Serena met another hot guy, Masood, and Rosa clicked with a sweet young couple, Larry and Lydia. They all car-pooled back to Serena's condo, and slipped into her shower, and hot-tub, and bed (with some overflow onto couch and floor), and spent the night. A very energetic night.

Connections shifted. Masood and Larry double-teamed Rosa while Serena and Lydia 69'd. Larry and Masood spit-roasted Lydia while Serena and Rosa 69'd, their first intimate tastes of each other. The women daisy-chained while Masood and Larry 69'd. It was very democratic. Everyone fucked, of course. With condoms, of course.