Lest we forget our friends
The Pick Me Up.
As I was leaving the club in a drunken sway, I realized that some were still arriving, and for most people the release party was only beginning. I pulled out my cell phone to call a cab, and at the same time I walked near the corner of the street, raised my arm and tried to catch some of the taxis that were simultaneously passing by.
Finally, after I had thought to wave some rolled up bills in my hand, did I catch one. However, just as I went to open the cab’s door and duck my head inside, I heard my name being called out.
“Jerodie, is that you?”
Stopping myself mid-way, I ended up hitting the top of my head as I backed out of the taxicab while trying to be quick to catch a glance at the person calling me from my left.
Rubbing the top of my skull, feeling as though I was just about to tip over, I saw a gorgeous blond standing outside of a black stretch limousine; back door open. Look quick, and you’d think it was a splitting image of John 5.
Better yet, he wasn’t.
“Ginger?”
I held my hand over the top of my head for a moment as the throbbing pain went away, then slowly backed away from the taxi. If there were any bastard angels that wanted to pick me up now, Kenny would be the perfect one.
“You alright?” He said sweetly.
I shook my hand at him giving him the international sign to not worry about me. “You’re here to see John?”
“Well, I heard he was in town throwing a party for his new solo album, so I thought I’d stop by and congratulate him.”
He looked at me uneasy, yet looking so flawless. His large shapely eyes always spoke more than he did.
“I think he’s had enough of that.” I said, smirking.
“Enough of what?”
“Co—Hmm, never mind. Nothing. That bastard.” I mumbled, making my way up to Ginger. “I’ve gotta go.”
He pleaded, “What? Why?” Then paused for a mere minute, staring at me with pouted lips. He was eyeing me completely; looking over the smeared lipstick around my mouth, smelling the scent of sex and liquor on my clothes. “You’re drunk.”
“No I’m not.” I tapped the side of my head. ”Fucking taxis. Concussion. That sort of thing. Speed.” I smiled, shrugging my shoulders.
“Get in.” He gestured for me to get into the limo. I hesitated, but again he made a gesture, then wrapped an arm around my shoulder and pushed me inside.
Ginger Fish always seemed so soft. He was so quiet. Mysterious. But also an undercover perverted mental-case, I’m sure. He let everything build up inside little by little until he couldn’t take it anymore. So relaxed, but probably the most sensitive person I’ve ever met in my life. He never showed it, yet we always knew. Just as Ginger’s blue eyes could bore holes into you, you could always find out what was hiding on the other side of them.
That is, if you tried hard enough.