Jake and his Hot Trans Am Part 6

I slammed the car door as hard as I could and stalked down the short path to our crummy apartment. A few moments later Jake’s car started up and pulled out of the apartment parking lot.

I let myself into the old homestead, the redolent aroma of Hamburger Helper Crunchy Taco Style still lingering in the air.

I was famished. Sure enough, there was a casserole dish of leftover dinner surrounded by other effluvia from previous meals in the fridge. Mom had drawn a “Mom Happy Face” on it with the word Charlie’s Dinner printed in felt tip pen. It was my Mom’s version of a McDonald’s Happy Meal.

I took out the dish and ate all the leftover Hamburger helper. That was my dinner. Then I grabbed a box of Honey Combe, poured it into a bowl, and polished that off for dessert.

If someone had tried to talk to me I probably would have snarled like an animal at them. I was totally pissed off at my friends.

I felt used and betrayed by two of the people I had thought were my friends. People I could have trusted. E Tu Brute. The knives of their betrayal stung my young ego. And I held my head in my hands, thinking “Why didn’t they tell me beforehand?”

If they had we could have just blown off the date and gone cruising or maybe to Bob”s. Skipped the whole damn thing. But they hadn’t and I felt utterly crushed, humiliated, rejected and incredibly stupid.

I also felt really embarrassed, after giving my friends an epic self-righteous rant about how f*cked up the evening had been.

And like a child having a tantrum had ended a relationship with two people I cared about. It’s as if I had smashed my favorite coffee mug just because I had found a small chip in it. Just plain stupid, I know but I was young and hurt.

And so my day to day life became a little emptier. I didn’t call Jake or Donna, and they didn’t call me. School resumed its daily grind and since I had nothing to look forward to doing on weekends, the weeks crept by in agonizing redundancy.

I watched a lot of TV, and after a while, my life adjusted to a new kind of lifestyle. Boring. But at least I didn’t have to watch my friends make out or have fun, while I played the third wheel.

This went on for about six weeks. And then I got a call from Jake late Friday afternoon.

As soon I heard his voice I knew something funky had happened. “Oh, shit I hope they didn’t get in a wreck, or Jake had gotten Donna pregnant,” I thought.

No, it wasn’t either of those things. But Jake wanted to pick me up and go to Bob’s, to talk about some really “Big News.” So I said, “Ok, C’mon over and you can tell me what’s happening at Bob’s.”

I was kinda relieved he was ok and that I had an excuse to get out of the apartment on a Friday night. Plus I had missed the Bastard.

About an hour later we were hurtling down El Camino to our favorite hang out. Jake didn’t say much other than “Chuck, Donna, and I have just broken up!” 

“When?”

“Just now. I have her tears on my shirt.” He pulled his shirt away from his skin to show me.

“What happened Jake?”

“I’ll tell ya when we get to Bob’s,” he said.

Minutes later we were ensconced in our favorite booth, we’re drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes.

Jake told me for the last couple of weeks he had been playing tennis with Christine Bradshaw up at the Country Club in Los Altos Hills. Seems they had been playing a couple of matches a week unbeknownst to anyone, especially Donna.

Yesterday after Christine had won the match, Jake had made out with Christine behind the Pro Shop in his car before taking off to meet Donna. “If ya let chicks win at games, it makes ’em horny! Jake explained.

Later Christine had called Jake and the two of them had talked on the phone for a couple of hours. 

So, Jake figured he and Christine were now an item, so today he had broken it off with Donna. It sounded like she had taken it badly.

Yeah, I knew about Christine Bradshaw. She was a tight assed rich girl who was part of the Country Club elite around town. A short, blue-eyed brunette, who always dressed in tennis outfits off the court. Not a great looker.  I mean she was Ok – that is if you liked pointy titted chicks, who constantly bore expressions that they were smelling something bad around them all the time.  

Christine was the type of girl who drank Tab all day long, ate at the Country Club, played tennis, didn’t swear, drink or smoke, never went to parties, instead went to Church on Sundays. 

She avoided the hoi polloi like the plague and generally eschewed the great unwashed such as kids like Donna and me. Definitely not Jake’s type of chick! There was no way I could see her hanging out at places like Bob’s Big Boy, or Frankie, Johnny and Luigi’s Pizza, and putting up with Jake’s hair raising “Evil Knievel” driving stunts. 

But as far as them hooking up…

It made a kind of sense in a Bizzaro world kind of way. Both came from wealthy families who were members of the “Club.” Both enjoyed tennis but that’s where any commonality ended.

As I sat in the booth listening to Jake extolling the virtues of his “new” girlfriend, I couldn’t help thinking he had pulled a major boner on this one. Comparing Donna to Christine was like trying to decide whether you wanted to drive a Chevy Corvette or a Ford Pinto? The way i see it – It’s a no contest. I didn’t see this ending well for Jake.

Sure enough, less than a week later, and after patching out in front of Christine’s house, and taking out several of Mrs. Bradshaw’s favorite rhododendron bushes in the process, Christine informed Jake that it was over between them.

I on the other hand kicked over another hornet’s nest by giving Donna a call shortly after seeing Jake.

Which reminds me…something I just remembered.

To be continued…