Gossip by Jennifer Doll

     “So, have you heard about Angie’s new boyfriend?” asked Denise, raising highly-tweezed eyebrows.

     “No, tell me,” said Michelle, who was standing in front of the mirror applying blue eye makeup. “Give me some gossip, will you?”

     “It’s almost shocking,” admitted Denise, with a satisfied grin. “Where to begin?”

     “Don’t be a tease.” Michelle poured more Vodka onto her melting cubes. “Want some more?”

     Denise nodded and continued. “So here’s the deal. She met him while she was staying with Heather for the weekend. You know Heather?”

     “That girl with the big nose who wears all the Gucci?”

     “Yep. So, they’re staying with Heather’s family in Cape Cod for the weekend. They get in on Friday night, and they’ve been drinking hard stuff the whole way to Boston, then doing delayed beer chasers for the hour and a half to the Cape.”

     “Who was driving?”

     “I think that guy Randy, you know, Angie’s gay friend. He was staying with them, too.”

     “He’s so hot.”

     “I know. It’s a shame. Anyway, they’re totally tanked by the time they get into town. Fortunately, Heather’s parents are out, so Angie and Heather don’t have to talk to anyone; they’re drunk as skunks. But they get cleaned up and then head out to the only bar in town, this dive called Mickey’s.”

     “Who was driving?”

     “I don’t know, just listen to the story. So they go into this bar, and straight off, Angie sees this guy. You know how she is, gets her sights set.”

     “Oh my god, last time it was that baldie from Brooklyn.”

     “Well, this time, he wasn’t bald.”

     “But?”

     “A clammer. He clams for a living!”

     “Is that opening them or gathering them from the bottom?”

     “You are so weird. Aren’t they the same thing?”

     “Well, my Grandfather was a shucker, which is highly different than a gatherer.”

     Denise looked at Michelle in horror for a second, then laughed and poured herself more Vodka. “You’re so funny. Anyway, Angie sees this clammer and…”

     “She doesn’t know he’s a clammer at the time, right?”

     “I don’t think so. I mean, is there some identifying characteristic?”

     “No, just wondering.”

     “So she sees him and he’s got this hat on, a hat that’s been worn just perfectly, you know how guys get them?”

     “The perfect roll…”

     “Yeah, with little threads hanging down from the bill cause the hat is so old and rugged.”

     “My brother would kill for a hat like that.”

     “And she sees him and his hat, and she’s like, yeah. So she and Heather are circling the bar, see the guy a second time, and Angie decides she needs to talk to him.”

     “Uh oh.”

     “So she situates herself by the top of some stairs and she waits. A few minutes later, who swings by but him. He’s walking up the stairs and looks at her and she says, ‘hi.’”

     “Bold manuever.”

     “And he says hi back. This somehow launches them into a conversation about his hat, which she admits to noticing from afar, and he says someone’s once offered him 200 bucks for it.”

     “To which she says, ‘I bet I could get it from you for free.’”

     “Of course. Hey, pass the bottle?”

     “Here you go. Then what?”

     “They end up talking for hours. After last call, which is early down there – Massachusetts blue laws and all– he keeps bringing her drinks from some secret stash, and she’s loving it. Then, he asks if she wants to go somewhere else.”

     “The plot thickens.”

     “The tricky thing is, he can’t drive.”

     “What?”

     “License revoked because of drunk driving. He was in rehab and everything.”

     “Shit.”

     “This doesn’t bother Angie, though. In fact, she thinks it’s kind of cute, like she’s got a bond with him – because she hasn’t driven since her dad took the ambassador position in Myanmar and they sold all their cars.”

     “Yeah, you know she has to carry her passport around to get into bars?”

     “Would you listen? So, he gets a ride with some fat friend of his and they drive to a party that’s already been busted by the cops. Angie doesn’t even complain, just keeps reaching for the beer he’s holding between his legs in the back of the car.”

     “Meaning?”

     “Nothing, silly, she just keeps drinking his beer. But maybe the rehab worked because he doesn’t seem to mind. She eventually gets the fat guy to drop them off at Heather’s, where Heather is having sort of a spontaneous party with a bunch of Boston College kids she met in the bar. Angie and the clammer ignore everybody; they sit on the couch and have some serious discussion that’s still going on when Heather goes to bed.”

     “Where’d you get all this dirt, anyway?”

     “Honey, who am I if not connected?”

     “Keep going.”

     “So Angie and the guy are just sitting on this couch talking about everything, how she can’t deal with her parent’s divorce and how he never went to college and if he killed anyone while driving drunk. And then he’s like, was that your boyfriend?”

     “Who?”

     “He thought she and Randy were dating! So this whole time he’s talking to her he thinks she’s dating an effeminate trust-funder who golfs!”

     “Unbelievable. What’d she say?”

     “She says that they’re just friends, she’s not dating anyone. And then he says, ‘I bet you only date assholes.”

     “She does! She does!”

     “But she gets really offended by this comment and kind of pulls her legs up and gives him that weepy look, like how could he say such a thing. And he reaches over and starts rubbing her legs, all the way down to her feet.”

     “They didn’t kiss?”

     “They hadn’t even touched up to that point. But she’s really embarrassed because she didn’t shave that night, so she’s got leg stubble, and her feet are hard as rocks from wearing those insane sandals.”

     “Her feet are disgusting, like one huge callous. Have you seen them?”

     “No, but I can imagine. So she tries to imply that he might not want to touch her feet, and then he shows her his hands.”

     “What about them?”

     “They have this layer of thick skin on them that’s worse than any callous you’ve ever seen. He’s got cowboy hands, really thorny.”

     “Is she disgusted?”

     “No, that’s the thing. She likes it. She actually takes one of his hard, nasty, clam-shelling hands and licks it like it was an ice cream cone, but it’s so rough it’s more like cat tongue on petrified wood.”

     “Wow. And then?”

     “Then nothing. He just keeps rubbing her feet and they talk until six in the morning, when she has to kick him out because she’s afraid Heather’s parents will wake up and find him there.”

     “And that’s it?”

     “No way. Before he leaves, he hugs her and wants to know how to get in touch with her again. So she gives him both her and Heather’s cell numbers and tells him to call so they can meet up later that night.”

     “And does he?”

     “Here, want another splash?” asked Denise, holding up the near empty bottle.

     “Top me off, baby,” answered Michelle.

     “So that day, he leaves a million messages on her voicemail, but she’s got her phone turned off to save the battery. That night, she checks her messages but doesn’t call him back because Heather’s parents have this really elegant lobster dinner prepared and she can’t get out of it.”

     “Mmm. I love lobster.”

     “But then in the middle of dinner with all of the parents’ friends around, Heather’s cell rings and she answers it. There’s this voice yelling in the background, ‘Come to Mickey’s!’”

     “Meaning that bar, right?”

     “Smart girl. So Heather’s all confused. She has no idea who just called her. Then Angie pipes up, ‘Oh, Heather, I kind of gave some people your phone number.’ And the crowd of old folks goes wild; everyone at the table thinks it’s the most hilarious thing they’ve ever heard.”

     “It’s not all that funny.”

     “Well anyway, they’re all laughing and Angie interrupts to suggest that maybe they should go to the bar. She’s dying to see this guy again but doesn’t want to admit it, so she makes some lame excuse about giving the parents some adult time. Finally, she convinces Heather and Randy to go and she spends the whole night asking people if they’ve seen the clammer from the night before.”

     “Does he have a name?”

     “I don’t know. Clammy Man, Sam McClam? Anyway, at one point, she thinks she sees him heading toward the back of the bar, but by the time she gets there, no sight of him.”

     “So was he there?”

     “He was totally there but she missed him. So she’s kind of depressed but still not even admitting that she was on the lookout. When they all go back to Heather’s, she just goes along kind of quietly. But she’s made up her mind that she’ll call him when she gets back if she can find the number he gave her the night before. Oh, and he lives with his parents!”

     “It just gets worse and worse.”

     “She makes herself a drink and then goes up to Heather’s room to use the phone. But she gets a busy signal. Then her cell starts ringing and it’s him.

                    “Hi,”

                    “Hey, is Angie there?”

                    “Yeah, it’s me.”

                    “I was looking for you at the bar tonight.”

                    “I was looking for you.”

                    “Come over.”

                    “I can’t. We’re home. Why don’t you come here?”

                    “Then I’ll be stuck there again. Just come over.”

                    “To your house?”

                    “Yeah, I want to sleep with you next to me.”

                    “I’m not sleeping with you.”

                    “Just next to me. I’ll send a car.”

                    “Okay.”

     “So he gets this cab – the only cab in the whole town, I think – to come and pick her up, and she goes to his house. It’s this sketchy little place on the edge of the woods, and his room has a twin bed mattress just laying on the floor, next to a couch.”

     “Wild.”

     “Oh, and about 8 fans blowing on them the whole night, she’s so cold she keeps her jean jacket on in bed.”

     “So what happens?”

     “They go to bed. But they don’t even touch. She remembers waking up with his hand barely touching her thigh, and apparently this really turned her on because his hand was giving off this intense heat. But that’s it. No kissing, no making out. Nothing. In the morning, she made him call the car to pick her up so she could get back before Heather’s parents woke up.”

     “So she left and never talked to him again?”

     “No, not exactly. As she was leaving it was kind of weird. He told her to call him before she left but she sort of ran out of time. So that night after she’s back in the city, her phone starts beeping and she’s got this message from him.”

     “Yeah?”

     “He tells her that he hopes her trip home was safe and to give him a call. So the next day, she does, she says she just wanted to say ‘bye.’”

     “A little late.”

     “That’s what he says. But he wants her to come and visit him.”

     “Would she have to clam for her supper?”

     “Don’t we all, my friend?”

     “We’re out of Vodka.”

     “Shit.”