San Francisco
Part 4
While I was showering next morning, I thought about what had happened the night before. Pop had thought I was asleep when he snuck over to my bed in the darkness, lifted the covers, and blew me. If I'd said anything, he would've totally freaked. So I just laid there, and pretended to be unaware of what was happening.
I guessed it was my fault for teasing him so much. Fucking hell, if I'd been Pop and some hunky teen was teasing the fuck outa me, I would have done the same thing. But Pop was very quiet that morning. He'd showered first, and had hardly said a word when I woke. He obviously had a major case of the guilts.
So what was I gonna do about it? What would I do if it happened again? Maybe it wouldn't happen again. Maybe he had the guilts so bad, he'd never try it again. And should I stop teasing him? Then he'd know that something was wrong. He'd suspect that I knew what had happened, and the poor old fucker would shrivel up and die of embarrassment.
Hmmm. I was between a rock and fucking hard place. Only one thing to do. Behave normally. What Pop didn't know wouldn't hurt him.
It was almost 8am when I emerged from the bathroom, dressed only in a towel.
"You'd better put your clothes on, Daniel. Breakfast will arrive any second now."
"C'mon, Pop! Get real! They don't expect us to be..." I paused when I heard the knock at the door. "I'll get it, Pop."
"Good morning, sir," the guy smiled as I opened the door for him. Then he headed for the table, and began to arrange our breakfast.
"Mmmm! Smells wicked!" But as I spoke, my towel unraveled and fell to the floor. Pop sprang to the rescue like greased lightning, and tried to wrap my towel around my waist. But he was fumbling so much, all I could do was crack up big time, which caused the waiter to get a fit of the giggles, too, even though he was doing his damnedest to remain in control of himself.
"Hey, Pop! Don't worry about it," I laughed as I sent the towel flying toward the bed. Then I walked over to the table to watch the dude do his thing. "Wow! That sausage looks totally outasight."
"It certainly does, sir."
"The one on the plate."
"That, too, sir."
Pop gave the dude a tip before we watched him pause at the door to take a second look at me. "Enjoy your sausage," he grinned, then disappeared.
"Woohoo! Pop! Take a look at this breakfast! Juice, eggs, sausages, hash browns, pastries. Wow! This is totally fucking awesome!"
A few minutes after we'd begun eating at the table in silence, I decided to try and cheer up my old bud. "You mad at me for teasing the waiter?"
"No."
"Worried about meeting your publisher bud, huh?"
"No."
"You're kinda quiet this morning."
"It's a mood thing. I'll be OK."
I desperately wanted to tell Pop that I wasn't mad at him for blowing me, but I didn't know how. "Hey, Pop, we all get moody sometimes. It's cool. And thanks for inviting me here. I'm having a wicked time."
"Daniel," he said while poking his fork around his food, and avoiding eye contact, "I..."
"You what?" I asked after a few seconds.
"Nothing... I was just wondering if you had any plans for today's sightseeing."
"Hey, I'll just follow my nose. Maybe I'll see Spencer again."
"I don't like your chances, Daniel. There are a million people in the city alone... five million in the metropolitan area."
"Yeah... guess you're right, Pop."
I'd only rollerbladed a couple of blocks when I saw this young blonde teen selling cookies for some charity fundraiser. He was tall, slim, with a shy but friendly smile. As I got closer to him, I saw the badge he was wearing. SURF NAKED. He was selling a whole stack of cookies. Coolio!
"You wanna buy a cookie?"
"You really surf naked?"
"Maybe. The cookies are 10 cents each."
"Gimme a dime's worth."
"That's only one cookie."
"Gotta watch my weight, dude."
A bit further along, there was another teen, maybe fourteen or fifteen, skateboarding a slalom course down the sidewalk, dodging pedestrians with totally wicked skill, and carrying a bunch of roses on his shoulder. Not unusual? Hey, he was singing his heart out! Woohoo! This was a fun town!
A few blocks west, I'd stopped at an intersection, and down a steep hill to my left came a daredevil dude on a skateboard, lickety split, sitting down on the board feet first, as in a street luge comp. The teen was paying no attention to stop signs or traffic as he sailed through three more stopsigns without slowing down. Then he came to a bus stop and, just as super cool as you like, got to his feet, picked up his skateboard, and got on the bus. Hey, these San Franciscans were my kinda dudes!
At that point, I decided to take off my shirt and tie it around my waist. Sure enough, the gawkers came outa the woodwork. And as I bladed bare-chested along the streets, I'd say hi to people and bust them gawking. But then I'd give them a big, cheeky smile to make them feel better, which obviously worked 'cause they'd smile back.
Eventually, I arrived at a park at the southern end of the towering orange-red Golden Gate Bridge with its massive central span measuring 4,200 feet. I'd read some of the literature at the hotel room about it. The bridge was completed in 1937, and was the longest suspension bridge in the world back then.
There were a bunch of windsurfers out in the bay, so I decided to relax for a while and watch them. So damn cool! Slicing swiftly through the chop with the wind behind them... sails stretched to the limit. And every now and then, one of them would become airborne for a second or two before splashdown. Wow! How totally cool were those guys?
One of the windsurfers was maybe fifty yards away. He waved, and I waved back. Typical of San Franciscans, I thought. A friendly bunch. But he began to sail closer to me and, as he came nearer, I recognized the face. Spencer?
"Hey, Daniel!" he yelled, then guided his agile craft to the beach. "How ya doin'?"
I was still kinda mesmerized as he beached his sailboard, then walked toward me. He was wearing a full wetsuit. Only his feet, hands and head were showing, but I could see the shape of his bod beneath the clinging, wet rubber. Woohoo!
"Spencer! Hey, dude! Wow! You looked awesome out there!"
"How about here?" he grinned as we shook hands. "Where's Pop?"
"Doing business with an old friend, so I'm just cruising... checking out the place. It's a totally cool town you've got here."
"Glad you like it. So what's next on the agenda?"
"Agenda? I don't have one."
"You blade through town like that? No shirt?"
"Yeah."
"Must've popped a few eyeballs."
"I'm from Florida, man... the sunshine state."
"Hey, you doing anything for lunch?"
"No plans."
"Cool. Meet you back here in two hours. That's my Bronco parked over there. The blue one."
I filled in the time by blading around the park, and saying hi to the gawkers. It amazed me how many people were willing to smile... guys in suits, little old ladies, other teens, almost everybody. I kept thinking about that singing teen with the roses. How fucking awesome was he? He must've been responsible for a million smiles a day. Maybe that's what the world needed most... crazy teens on skateboards and rollerblades.
"Have a nice day, dear?"
"Same old, same old... except for this kid I saw in the park today. He said hi and smiled at me."
"Who was he?"
"Total stranger. Never seen him before. Great looking kid... fit... shirtless... rollerblading... big cheesy grin. Kinda got to me. So I returned his smile and said hi."
"Sounds like he was on something."
"I don't think so. I think he was just plain old-fashioned happy. Y'know something, Dorothy?"
"You're gonna buy a pair of rollerblades and smile at people? Ha! At your age?"
"Not quite. But I think I'm gonna try to be more like that kid. I can still see him in my mind... the infectious grin, the wave, the bright eyes, the happy disposition."
"He obviously made a big impression on you."
"He did. So what's for dinner?"
"Leftovers."
By the time I got back to the foreshore, Spencer was dismantling his sailboard and loading it onto the Bronco. The top of his wettie was unzipped and hanging down, baring his torso. Whoa!
"Hey, Spencer!"
"Daniel! Hey, buddy. Just about ready to go. Wanna hop in? Take your blades off first, though."
"I don't have any shoes with me."
"You're from Florida, right?"
"Yep."
"Then don't worry about it."
We drove down the coast road for a mile or two, then pulled into a driveway that led to a two-level bungalow. "Wow! Right across from the beach! Fucking awesome!"
"This house has been in the family for a long time, Daniel. Now it's mine."
"Yours? Like your folks don't live here?"
"Nope... just me and my dog Bugsy," he smiled as he pulled on the handbrake and turned off the ignition. "My folks live in the family home on the other side of town."
"Wow! I can't fucking believe this! Your own house? How old are you?"
"Nineteen. Second year of college."
Inside the house, the vibe was homely and friendly... not luxurious like the hotel, but way comfortable. And in one corner of the main room was a grand piano that I couldn't resist touching. Plonk, plonk, plonk. Plink, plink, plink. "Can you play this thing?"
"Some. You want a concert or lunch?"
"Lunch! The piano must've cost you a bomb, though," I remarked as Spencer peeled off his wettie down to his Speedos, revealing a bod that was fit and toned.
"It's my grandmother's. She gave it to me. I've been playing piano since I was seven. That grand is circa 1904."
"You're kidding, right? The earth was still cooling down back then!"
"I'll let Bugsy in. He'll be going ballistic out in the yard now that he knows I'm home."
As soon as Spencer opened the back door, he was molested by a mountain of flying, golden fur. Then it was my turn to get the enthusiastic welcome treatment from the mile-long tongue. "Settle, boy! Whoa! Golden Retriever, right?"
"Yep... he'll settle down in a sec... gets a little excited when I arrive home. Gimme a moment while I wash my wettie in the bathroom. You can get to know Bugsy. By the way, what would you like for lunch? Barbecue steak and onions OK?"
"Totally cool!"Copyright © 2001 All rights reserved. mrbstories
