San Francisco
Part 7

I was right. Pop had arrived back at the Inter-Continental and was worried about me... not to mention what he'd have to tell my mom if I'd gone AWOL. Just to reassure him, I put Spencer on the phone. "Yeah, he's fine. We met at the Bay while I was windsurfing, so I invited him here for lunch. I hope that's OK. Didn't realize the time had gotten away from us. Anyway, I'll give him a lift back to the hotel."

"Hey, you don't have to do that!" I protested as Spencer hung up the phone. "I can blade back."

"Up those hills? Yeah, right. Anyway, it's not a prob. You wanna come for a ride, MM?"

"Cool!"

MM sat in the back of the Bronco with Bugsy while I sat in the front with Spencer.

"This is such a way cool town, man. Lots of character... and weird houses."

 

"They're called Painted Ladies... old Victorian terrace houses. There's a bit of everything here... English, Spanish, German, French, you name it. Actually, SF is called "The Paris of the West." On the other side of the bridge, there's Muir Woods with huge redwood trees hundreds of years old. Further north is Napa Valley. We've got a farm there."

"Wow! Cattle and stuff?"

"A vineyard. Harvest is a helluva rad party time."

"Jeez... you're just so damn interesting, Spencer. How come I'm not that interesting?"

"Don't underestimate yourself, Daniel."

"I think you're interesting," came the eager young voice from the back of the Bronco.

"You don't know anything about me, MM."

"I will soon, though. I'm gonna ask Spencer all about you on the way back home... and then some. Anyway, you look interesting, so you must be interesting. I know about these kinda things. I'm psychic. And stop laughing! I am psychic!"

"Oh?" I chuckled. "So tell me something about myself."

"Bugsy likes you. That's a good start. Dogs are psychic too, y'know. And I'll bet you've got tons and tons of girlfriends back home. You've got that look about you. But I don't think you're egotistical or anything. I think you just naturally attract people... y'know, a magnetic personality kinda thingy."

"You've known me for like five seconds, MM."

"That's enough. Anyway, Spencer doesn't hang with just anybody, y'know. All his friends are awesome. So if you're his friend, you must be pretty cool."

"Like you?" I asked as I turned around and spotted the ear-to-ear, toothy grin on the cute, blonde kid's face.

"Yeah. Four cool dudes in a Bronco. Hey! How cool is that? Woohoo!"

"Anyway, MM, I don't wanna rock your boat, but you're wrong, dude. I only have one girlfriend, and she's just a friend. Actually, she's my bro's girlfriend."

"Hmmm. OK, maybe not girlfriends, but lots of friends. Correct?"

"Yep."

"Guys?"

"Yep."

"Hmmm."

"Oh? What does hmmm mean?"

"Well, it doesn't make sense, unless... hey, I could be wrong, y'know. Even psychics don't get it right all the time. And I'm only a thirteen year old psychic."

"Unless what?"

"MM," Spencer interrupted. "Quit the inquisition. OK? Daniel's our guest."

"Sorry."

"Hey, MM," I offered, "it's cool. You can ask me anything you want."

"Nah, it's OK. It's just that when you said you didn't have a girlfriend, I thought... but, hey, no prob. Right? Spencer doesn't have a girlfriend, either. So it's no biggie. Anyway, girls can be a real pain in the butt. Right?"

"Right," I laughed.

There was a pause while MM tried to analyze his intuitive powers. "Yeah!" he cried eventually. "I've got it! There's a whole bunch of girls who would like to be your girlfriend. I kinda got a bit mixed up before. Am I right now? Actually, you don't need to tell me 'cause I already know I'm right. Right?"

"Right."

"I mean, if I were a girl, which I'm not, but... well... y'know."

"Yeah, I know," I cracked, then noticed the smirk on Spencer's face. "Thanks for the compliment, man. You're a pretty cool dude."

The concierge smiled at me as I was about to enter the lobby, and politely told me that I couldn't enter the hotel unless I was wearing shoes.

"They've got wheels on 'em," I explained as I showed him my blades. "You want me to put 'em on?"

"No skating in the lobby, sir."

"OK. Can you call Pop in room 811 and tell him to bring my sneakers down here? He'll be mad as hell, though. He can get soooo damn mad..."

"Get your ass over to the elevator. And be quick about it!"

"Yes, mister! Hey, you wanna gimme one of those cute San Franciscan smiles before I go? Just a quick one?"

Pop was in his trademark towel, and reading a newspaper, when I breezed into the room. "Hi, Pop! How'd you go with the publisher dude?"

"Hi, Daniel. Oh, we just chatted about old times. He brought up the publishing thing a few times, but I avoided his questions." Then Pop noticed my feet. "They let you in here like that?"

"Took a bit of extra Daniel charm," I grinned, then put my blades beside the bed. "Had a totally cool day with Spencer. He's a windsurfer. Wow, Pop! You shoulda seen him out there on the bay. Fucking awesome! He's such a hot look! But he doesn't like cussing, so I kinda had to kinda bite my tongue a few times."

"A few?"

"And he plays piano. Hey, Pop, you won't believe how totally cool this dude is. I mean like wicked, big time! And he's got a rad beach house and everything! And this really neat dog... a golden retriever called Bugsy. I'm gonna mow his lawn tomorrow."

"Whose? Bugsy's? You're going too fast for me, Daniel. Slow down a little."

"I'm gonna give you a kiss on the cheek 'cause I feel like it." But after I'd leaned down to plant one on Pop's cheek, I felt his whiskers against my lips. "Ew! You're all scratchy. So watcha readin' about?"

"Nothing special. You're in a pretty hyper mood today."

"Yeah. Are we gonna eat in or out?"

"They won't let the waiters into this room while you're here."

"Serious?" I asked as I took off my t, then did a few pushups. "I should've remembered to bring my chest expander with me. Spencer thinks I look pretty cool. So does MM, his neighbor. And I bladed through town this morning without a shirt on. I turned a lotta heads, Pop. You shoulda been there. Outasight! It was so damn cool to smile at all the gawkers!"

"You're an unabashed exhibitionist."

"Hey, Pop," I argued as I reached 30 pushups, "you think guys who drive Ferraris wear a disguise? Like they don't wanna show off? C'mon!"

"So you compare your body to a Ferrari?"

"33, 34, 35... what do you think? ...36, 37..."

"You're incorrigible."

"Speak English... ...41, 42..."

"What would you rather do? Eat in or out?"

"I don't wanna eat in the hotel restaurant, if that's what you mean. Too damn fancy for me, Pop... all those dudes dressed up like fucking millionaires. ...56, 57..."

"Well, it's been a long day for me. All that yadda, yadda, yadda. I wouldn't mind just relaxing here if it's OK with you."

"Sure, Pop. No problem. Anyway, I like this room. I'll probably never be in anything like this again in my whole life. ...68, 69, 70... Hey! You wanna do some pushups with me?"

"You're doing quite enough for the both of us, Daniel... and don't think I don't appreciate it. I do! Besides, I wouldn't get past one... if that."

"Don't make me laugh, Pop. It saps my fucking energy. ...79, 80, 81..."

"You're right, y'know," he said after a long pause. "You are a Ferrari. But Ferraris only come in red, and you're bronze and yellow."

"Thanks, Pop... 99, 100. Whoa! That'll do." Then I stood, and puffed out my shiny, sweat-covered chest. "Pretty cool, huh?"

But all Pop could do was shake his head while he eyeballed my pecs and sixpack. "There are no words, Daniel. Well, there are, but they're inadequate."

"You're going all gooey again, Pop."

"Well, if you didn't parade around the damn place looking so damn... Anyway, check the menu and choose what you want for dinner. Oh! And don't forget to phone your mom."

After phoning mom, I took a quick shower. Five minutes later, I was smelling like expensive soap again as I walked naked back into the main room where Pop was watching TV. I grabbed the menu off the coffee table, planted my bare ass on the easy chair, and began to check out what was on offer. "You decided what you're having, Pop?"

"Smelling salts."

"What's Swiss chard?"

"A variety of beet leaf."

"And what's gnocchi?"

"That's what happens when the waiter arrives at the door."

"Har-de-fucking-har, Pop. Jeez, you can be so fucking corny sometimes. Anyway, I think I'll have the sauteed Angus beef tenderloin strips. How come they call it tenderloin? Like whoever heard of toughloin? What are you having?"

"A heart attack."

"C'mon, Pop."

"Braised chicken breast."

"Hey!" I said as I jumped up from the chair and headed toward the bar fridge, then investigated its contents as I flashed my ass, "you wanna beer before dinner? Hmmm. No Corona Cerveza. I had a couple of Coronas at Spencer's house. With lime. Totally fucking wicked. It's Mexican beer. Guess we'll have to settle for Buds." I took a Bud over to Pop and offered it to him. But his hand was wandering aimlessly in mid air, hoping somehow to make contact with the bottle. Yeah, right. His eyes were totally glued to my bouncing semi. "Keep your fucking hand still, Pop." When his hand finally did come to a halt, I placed the beer in his palm and waited 'til his fingers closed around it. "There ya go."

I went back to my chair, then suggested that we should order a bottle of Californian wine with dinner. "Spencer's folks have got a vineyard. Damn! I should've asked what his brand was. Anyway, I'll find out tomorrow."

"Daniel, you've just done one hundred pushups. One hundred? You should be comatose. Where do you get the energy from?"

"Hey! I'm excited. OK? It's totally cool being here with you. And I've had a wicked day."

"Cool? Being here with me?"

"Sure. Why not? What's the matter with you, Pop? You're totally cool company. This is a blast! And you wanna know something? Hey, I don't wanna sound mushy or whatever, but you appreciate me. You treat me... well, y'know, like I'm special or something."

"I'd be a fool if I didn't. In spite of everything, Daniel, there's a wonderful innocence about you. I know that seems like a contradiction. But it's not."

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