Jess was magic. First of all, I need to provide you with details before I tell you about my first impression of her. She was white real white probably not naturally blonde but certainly fair and freckled and fine and so skinny but healthy appetite skinny not an eating disorder waiting to happen. She was born to rock and roll she walked with a flow that you knew immediately she was holding a guitar onstage and bending over in a male like strut pose of course Yana hated that I described her this way and considered it sexist and said that ‘we are not girly bands’ but we can get to the iconography later.

Jess was that type of self created and recreated contemporary woman who re invented herself every day. Not once in all the times I sat there staring at her undressing her imagining my finger running across the tattoos on the shoulders not once did she look the same. She had had every conceivable underwear item worn as over wear and parts of her body unclothed haphazardly even in the dead of winter and yet she was not sexy in that burlesque way – her vibe was a mama – she offered you comfort as though she was my big fat BUBBE – just so kind and so much unconditional love.

It got very physical with Jess very quickly even though it was not at all sexual. To hug her was a near death experience as she squeezed in tight and wanted you to sense just how well worked out and skinny yet muscular she was. She was showing off…she sought perfection and she got it. As she walked back and forth up the bar, my own bobbing mesmerized eyes would intersect with those of every other man. You felt for sure – a hunch – that she was so used to this that it had been true since she was very little. That she probably had had trouble keeping a boyfriend because she just wanted attention all the time.

Now my first impression of her came about in the way we met and how much my ego was massaged. This was not her intention but that was less relevant than the way in which I envisioned her. It was meeting Ian her boss and the alleged proprietor of Sky Town that led to this. The place itself was totally reminiscent of a Western Saloon and it seemed like a conscious move. Style was everything in Hipsterville and hence, the choice of Wyoming woods but perhaps it was simply the way everyone stopped to watch you walk in as you came through the centrally located front door.

“New in town?’’ is what you expected. It was an early Sunday evening, probably four pm something but already getting depressingly dark – being early February the cold and dead of winter. I had some time to kill before going over to The Barn for one of Lucas and Angie’s dinner parties. You see clearly the Pavlovian pattern of my behavior. So I have been meaning to check out Skytown for some time…I had seen a few women in there just quickly glancing who completely came out of a fantasy comic book. Of course, when I walked in there were just a few gents at the bar – it was too early for a crowd.

This probably enhanced the Saloon scenario. Consequently, my vision switched into Black and White. I heard a tack piano playing – a very white man with some indistinctive facial hair made heavy eye contact. “What can I get you man?’’ “What kind of beer do you have on tap?’’ “Beer…” he said…

“Wait a minute!’’ “Who are you man?’’ “Excuse me…” I always responded excuse me, I had learned that as a waiter – it almost always ended any tension and potential violence with strangers: no matter how annoyed a guest was at the restaurant, when they ranted, you just would pause and say: “excuse me’’

“Excuse me!’’ Ian as I would later find out repeated what I said a couple of times then repeated:

“Who are you man?’’ “What do you mean?’’ ‘’What do I mean…” this was turning into Bad Mamet fast so I started thinking about the guys in the kitchen on my right. “You are somebody man! I know you”

“What do you mean…my name is Howie, that’s all’’ “No no…a guy like you…just walking in here asking for a drink?! You are checking this place out. You are snooping around…you have a business nearby?”

Now it was really the saloon scenario. In my mind’s eye, every guy in the place knew this Ian and they leaned forward waiting for me to make a move. They had their hands on their smartphones ready just as though they were clutching their holsters. If this isn’t visual enough for you, put this book down!

“Yeah…” I said and paused, being sure to pick my phone up and stare at it for a few counts just to show the boys that I was not reacting. “I am checking you out…so what?!’’ “You’re that music guy, right?”

I wanted to say something very Walter Brennan here. You know like “Maybe I am and maybe I ain’t”

I had to figure out how to get the word ‘reckon’ in on this guy…like ‘” I reckon you might say I’m in the music business, but folks I came up with round here, we much prefer you call it ‘entertainment.’

But I just smiled and did not say anything so that the ears of the surrounding participants came closer.

“You like whiskey?” Ian asked. Now we were really in a saloon man, I can’t make this shit up!

“Sure…” I muttered quietly so that I did not seem hungry for a drink. Ian turned around and pulled up a bottle of some unknown quantity of the type of low quality American Whiskey that hipsters had brought back from the dead like Jesus with Lazarus in a cave I mean this is shit that should have been left to die by the side of Interstate 95 tossed from a racing Camaro but no, it was hip it was like PBR it was ‘shooting’ now or ‘sipping’ the Midwesterners and the near Southerners had integrated their culture into Brooklyn this was blasphemy as far as I was concerned I guess I have to do a whole appendix about drinking protocols along with childhood memory references later but I know you dear reader are only sitting through this to get to Jessica’s grand entrance and Oh my God was this grand. After all, Alexis the first had set a new bar for arousal and it certainly seemed unstoppable until the very next night when Samantha the Second beat it hands down and we are soon going to hear about Lisa and all that so…

“It’s on me!’’ He pulled up a shot glass and poured a shot. I took it down real fast knowing he would follow with another. “I get this free from my MOM it is pretty shitty stuff. Excuse me…”

Suddenly, the door blew open and the wind blew in. It was what you would appropriately call ‘new bies’

 

Girls who had just moved into the neighborhood or maybe they were just subletting that is test marketing they looked a bit more sophisticated then bridge and tunnel types but still so wet behind the ears metaphorically virgins for lack of a better word not that we were going to drop everything and test them you dig? “you like whiskey?’’ Ian asked them…the aforementioned all male crew lowered their pistols and stared at their barely covered butts that is their behinds…with the sneakers even designed to pump up that particular volume…yes, technology had come a long way from Marie Antoinette.

“Sure” they sounded as cute as they looked of course…they were perpetually giggling these type of girls.

Sure, they were over twenty one but they might as well have been twelve as far as survival skills. Ian poured them both shots and as he asked for the precise sum, he winked at me – to shut the fuck up!

“Top shelf stuff…from my mother’s still!’’ he had visualized a Tennessee thing while I was still somewhere out in Kansas, probably near Tombstone. Maybe not that far off…he shifted back to me while the rest of the crowd started queuing up to make the young ladies’ acquaintances in a right respectful manner.

“What’s your name man?” “Howie…I’m Howie!’’ “So you opening that club across the street right?”

“yes, that’s pretty much it…’’ “well…then you need to meet Jess!’’

“JESS?” I said…”Yeah, Jess…”

He turned towards the front though no one in particular was there now, the young newbies had had a small semi circle of the boys formed around them. All looked quite elated from the corner of my eye.

“JESS!!! GET OVER HERE!’’

The room appeared to fill with smoke – not smoke like in the Western Movie set, smoke like dry ice smoke at the finest Pryo Arena Rock Concert! Smoke like on the cover of Kiss’ Greatest Hits…smoke used for a quick costume change so the talent does not have to leave the stage. I bet Taylor Swift is using this now but I really don’t want to know. I rather sit through Demi Lovato at sixteen opening for the Jonas Brothers at Hershey Park Stadium then be in a room with Taylor Swift. Actually, I’ll take Paramore over any other girl singer in the business right now, glad they’re on a comeback tour when I am writing this, you dear reader may have to ask your parents about these acts by the time this book gets published cause I will have joined Walter Brennan by then. SO back to the movie big mouth, the room is smoking – safe cool smoke – no inhaling please – the smoke clears – we crawl forward following the floor, the two newbies, the semi circle of boys, they are joined at the sneakers all tilting towards the door…the shoes are heels lace ups with the front of the foot naked, there’s multi colored polish on the toes nothing matches we pan up slowly following some very narrow ankles, stop momentarily but not long enough for the viewer to see the stop to catch the Barbara Stanwyck ankle bracelet is it thrift shop move up that leg…oh my god…two legs…past the knees up these thighs…skinny but firm muscled dripping with sweat straight out of Olivia Newton John when is the skirt going to come whoops there it is is it transparent am I imagining the legs continue does this woman even have a waist is she all legs?

“Hi…I’m Jess!’’ I have been mesmerized way too long…I do not have a hard on I am gagging with a strange freeze up much like when you pass a huge mountain in Switzerland on the train. This happened to me seeing Mount Fuji in Japan as well I think it is called being mesmerized or mesmerizized but I have been hit the two shitty whiskey shots just kicked in I feel really warm there is something resembling plaid a Scottish Tartan it is so ironic it is like a large table napkin thrown over her chest with a safety pin she has no breasts to speak of she is truly flat that makes her that much more of a complete sex object her shoulders are even more narrow than the chest where you realize how flat she is she has a neck so long you immediately see yourself staring at it adjacent to it with one arm on her shoulder then the tattoos hit then you think ‘okay, Madonna yeah so…’ but no this bitch is rock and roll she has been onstage she has been backstage you are getting this all and she is fucking nine feet away across the room the music has stopped everyone else has disappeared except Ian’s eyes are floating above the room like the Chesire Cat in Alice he has a shit eating grin…she draws closer, I quickly thrust the shot glass up to obtain the tiny paper napkin to wipe the drool off my cheek I feel embarrassed she knows this she doesn’t care this happens to her three times a day she advances with no fear she knows all this.

In the western Saloon she has a long petticoat on, her long hair is all done up above her head, she has two devices in to give the appearances of a bosom but she keeps her tobacco and money in them. She will be holding the petticoat up with both hands as she walks to keep the sawdust off the bottom and so that I can glimpse the ankle bracelet both realities just juxtaposed now, Ian with the vest on still smiling the badge of a lawman just outside the double doors the piano still tinkling over the James Brown.

“I’m Jessica” she reaches her hand out and grabs mine throwing the napkin back down to the bar. She smiles and I see her eyes follow and map the remaining drool trail. She winks. She is completely aware of her power and it seems to mean nothing to her. She clearly is in love with herself but it has not necessarily benefited her in her life. She is flowing over the brim with love with good vibes but not at all lustful. “What’s your name?” I really cannot respond yet. “WOW, you are so cool looking, I love your Chucks!’’ She is already leaning down the way I observed her from the sneakers up she looks at my legs she looks at my butt she smiles as though she just touched my butt but her hands remain on her dress except in the present she has no dress so she is touching herself except she can’t do that what is she doing I can’t see anymore her smile has taken over my mind completely I have lost all control.

“Howie…I’m Howie…” I say. I am nervous like a child. Should I say my last name? Lights seem to flash.

“Howie?’’ she inquires…”HOWIE?!?’’

“Yes, Howie…” I put this in just for the trailer by the way.

“you’re not Howie, are you?’’

“what do you mean?’’

This is not helping me get back to the ground now but it continues:

“you’re not like the HOWIE…are you…?”

“well…”

“Oh my God!” At that moment she thrusts herself at me for the first time, this will occur every time I see her from now on except one very hot day where she is too sweaty to do so.

She has quite a grip. She seems to insist on throbbing so I get a chance to size her up. This is the closest to a real Barbie doll I have come in half a century. I don’t know what to make of this only that time is temporarily standing still. In the Western, guns are once again being drawn. Here…message alerts.

“You’re Howie…oh I’m sorry…I’m Yana’s BFF! She is always talking about you. I can’t believe I am meeting you. You are so fucking cool. I am fucking crazy about you.’’

Well…the lights return to normal, the camera pulls back and reality re appears however incrementally.

Ian is smiling and chatting up the two newbies with another shot. Looks like the hug got them off too.

“what do you want to drink?’’ Jess asks.

For a moment I stop to reflect. I want to remember her shoulders, her lower back, how tight she felt just for a minute. I want to imagine that Ian is not her boyfriend, that she is going to grab my hand with a lit cigarette in her mouth and turn into Ann Margaret and we’ll start dancing and then we’ll go into one of those doors that are there that lead to the storage basement or somewhere where there is a drum set and we’ll start making out and then she’ll lean on the tom toms and pull her rag up and show how she has no butt whatsoever and then she’ll pick up a guitar and turn and say ‘nice to meet you!’

“BEER!’’

“Beer?” she asks

All the time it took for me to imagine being in love with Jess she is already behind the bar pouring the tap into a Storage Jar…that is the hipster beer glass…the kind of thing your BUBBE put Jam into. How did she get there so fast…did we go to the basement and I just blacked out?

She brings the beer on yet another cheap napkin and leans in. Now, you can see her blue eyes. You can see all the layers of blonde – everything you did in your life was correct at this moment. You never did anyone any harm because you just met Jessica and she loves you she is going to give you more beer.

“Listen, this guy is not my boyfriend okay?”

“I just like work here…I’m in a band! I know you play!”

Jess and I became buds and not a three day period went by that I wasn’t either in Skytown stalking Jess or across the road at The Market chatting up Lisa. Crashing on the couch, sipping the pestilent bourbon smoking up a storm with someone else’s pot. Life was good since I was not involved with anyone yet.

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