Swan Lake, sort of--
Summertime 1967 and the living is easy. My new gig is tending bar at “The Boulevard” my friend John's nightclub/restaurant. I have recently returned from California, where I had pursued my dream of becoming famous and rich for/with no particular reason aka talent.
So being the lead actor/barman in the nightclub restaurant business seemed to offer better opportunities for my particular gifts. After all the restaurant business is theater in my opinion, the owner is the producer ,the manager the director and the wait and kitchen staff the bit actors the lead actor as far as I could tell would be me in my center stage pose behind the bar. The chef out of sight so no credit due.
Early evening my first night on the job, down at the end of the bar corner seat sits a beautiful blonde gal seemingly arriving out of nowhere, she is waving frantically at me for attention I mosey on over and take her drink order, one large Shirley Temple, we then strike up a casual conversation, turns out she is also employed at the club, she is an exotic dancer scheduled to be on stage later that evening,after a few minutes and using my savoir faire I tell her that although we have been acquainted only a few minutes,, “there is something I like about you, I just can't put my finger on it?”, without batting a false eyelash she responds using her innate savoir faire by saying and I quote: “ oh I would not be too sure about that Jeff!” it was at that exact moment I knew I had found my calling in life.
Candy and I become an item that summer, in my mind anyway. She lives in her grandmothers house aka mansion on the South Shore of L.I., when not there she is in WestPort Connecticut in her mom's nice house. Her exotic dance career her form of rebellion I guess, she is not in it for the money shall we say.
She drives a brand new corvette, color and code red of course. I am tooling round town in a beat up old Chevy. A reminder each day to me that you are somewhat to some people your car in America.
Candy and I are scheduled for an evening out in Manhattan one summer day, her Corvette in the shop, which leaves us with my Chevy for transport o the big apple, luckily or almost unluckily I have a friend who has recently been driving a corvette around town, he owed me a favor or two so I ask him if I can borrow it for my special Manhattan evening, he tells me no problem! But he says there is something you should know, number one is that the car is stolen, and number two is that there are two kilos of marijuana hidden in the car, using my libido as my guide I tell him those problems do not seem like a barrier to me, as I have promised Candy we would be traveling in Corvette style to Manhattan that evening, and hence to Manhattan we shall go.
So off Candy and I go to merry old NYC. We spend the night at Trudy Heller"s disco in the Village, and around 5 am. or so start out return trip to L.I. I am of course letting Candy drive now, because? She wanted to that's why.
An hour later as we are pulling into Candy's private estate community she chooses to go through a stop sign, a few seconds later out of nowhere comes a police car, we are stopped by his flashing red lights, he exits and starts walking towards the corvette, I quickly tell candy to be please cool, oh so very cool, she says no problem, the cop raps on her window and motions for her to roll it down, he then informs her of the fact that she has forgotten to stop at the stop sign, and Candy being cool but also three sheets to the wind says: so what asshole! And proceeds to tell him who she and her grandmother are, the owners of that big house with the swans on the lakefront you shithead, he is not impressed, but rather him be pissed, very.
At that moment my life before passed in front of my eyes, I also say my future,, one behind bars long time not short time! The officer for some reason has taken umbrage at her remarks and in livid form says we will see who the asshole is here little girl and returns to his car, where I see him reaching for his radio phone, I assume to call and check the license plates before issuing ticket, I decide I best do something, I exit the corvette and mosey on over to the patrol car, and politely ever so politely apologize for my true loves behavior, he is hesitant but I bond with him by telling him I have worked very hard that early evening romancing my gal and that I am about to cash in on my labor, he laughs and shrugs his shoulders and gives me a wink and tells me to tell my asshole friend she is one lucky girl. I am also one lucky guy, a phone call away from three meals and a cot behind bar—that is my story and I am sticking to it- )
nice!