Rock Radio (6 page)

He studied the best shot he got of her, the one close-up of her face he had enlarged to a life size eleven by seventeen.  He could see her dark almond shaped eyes and her smile.  That mouth again.  Oh, that mouth.  He got chills thinking of it.

Then there was her voice.  She sounded so throaty, so sexy on the air.  Her voice felt like home.  She was his perfect woman and his best friend in the whole wide world.  Larry called Dana every so often just to talk.  Over time, they’d become close friends.  He called her for advice when The Bitch left him.  Dana reassured him that he could probably do better and that she was sure there was someone else out there for him who would make him even happier.

That’s when he knew, she loved him too.

Dana’s shift had just ended.  He let her finish talking, then pressed STOP on his cassette recorder and ejected the tape.  Larry carefully removed the cassette placing it down on the table.  He wrote as neatly as possible on a sticky label, Dana Drew, January twelfth.  He slowly lifted the label from the wax paper and lined it up so it was exactly in the middle of the cassette and placed it down.  A small ridge folded up in the corner.  The clean, crisp label was now imperfect.

“Fuck!” he yelled angrily.  “Damn it!  Damn it!”

Larry took out a razor blade from the desk drawer and began to remove the sticky label from the cassette.  It came off messily.  He poured some turpentine on a piece of cloth and rubbed the remaining stickiness from the plastic until it was smooth again.  He then took out another label, re-wrote Dana’s name and the date of the show, and placed it on the cassette again, this time more carefully.  It lay perfectly flat.  Even, crisp and clean.

“Good,” he said and smiled broadly.  Larry put the cassette in its case then walked over to the bookshelf in his house, placing the cassette next to Dana Drew, January eleventh.  Larry had a recording of every one of Dana’s shows.  Well, every one since he discovered her.  When he was really lonely or horny, he’d pick out one of his favorite shows and listen to it or pleasure himself to it.  Occasionally, he’d call in to talk to Dana and she’d put him on the air.  Those tapes he marked with a shiny gold star.

Larry was very happy tonight.  Tomorrow he was going to talk to Dana in person.  He had finally lost the last few stubborn pounds and felt confident enough to meet her.  It was perfect timing really.  Just as he had achieved his weight goal, he heard Jonny Rock announce that Dana would be at Scully’s in Miami tomorrow, just minutes from his house.  Larry knew it was more than just a coincidence, he knew it was fate.

Because he and Dana were destined to be together.

Larry shook with nervous excitement and moved into the bathroom to study himself.  He had always been ove
rweight by about fifty pounds.  He lost all of it in the last three months.  A huge loss due to a strict diet.  Larry survived on weight loss pills, coffee and grapefruit juice, allowing himself only one real meal a week, usually a cheeseburger at Floyd’s Bistro down the street every Friday at twelve fifteen in the afternoon.

Larry looked at his naked body in the mirror, still shocked at his change in appearance.  The chubby guy was now lean and trim.  He worked hard for his new appearance.  He was at the gym every day.  His arms were extremely muscular and his chest almost looked broad, like a movie star or something.  He smiled and flexed.  He had accomplished what he set out to do.  So far.

He peered harder in the mirror and picked up his tweezers.  One stray hair poked out from his eyebrows.  He plucked it with surgical precision.  Now he looked good.

Larry had curly brown hair, wide set light brown eyes and surprise, surprise, high cheekbones.  He never knew his face had structure, fat and flesh always covered it.  He turned to see his profile.  His prominent nose made him look distinguished.  Dana would think so too, he was sure of that.

He moved from the bathroom to his closet, carefully removing the outfit he bought for tomorrow’s big night.  He lifted the plastic that covered the black silk shirt and gray trousers.  Everything was perfectly pressed, wrinkle free. 
Better not keep it out too long,
he thought
, it might get ruined.
  So he carefully pulled the plastic back over his outfit, then put it back in the closet.  Larry slipped on a pair of white sweatpants.  He had exactly twenty-four hours before he would see her.  He figured he could take the time he had left to work out a bit more, tone up a bit more.

Besides, the exercise would help relieve his sexual tension.

“Oh, Dana,” he murmured, quickly grabbing his pillow, pretending it was her.  Larry caressed the top of the pillowcase as he had done a million times, then kissed the sheet firmly.

Yes, Larry Carter was ready for Dana Drew.

He only hoped she was ready for him.

Cody Blue Smith changed the locks on the house.  It didn’t matter, his father never returned after the night with the gun.  For all his drunken bravado, his father was a coward.

Cody’s mom was resentful of Cody’s actions, glad for the beatings
and abuse to have stopped, but sad to see Kevin’s income disappear.  She was forced to get a job as a waitress at the local truck stop.  She earned some money, but not nearly enough.

“I’ll help support us, Momma,” Cody promised.  He got a job at the local convenience store after school.  It didn’t earn him much money, but it was enough to help pay for the basics.  They had no car, his dad took that when he left.  They did the best they could to make things work without a vehicle.  They had to, there was no other option.

The house was his grandparent’s old place that his mom had inherited so there was no mortgage.  The main expense was electricity and food which Cody and Jane’s meager paychecks barley covered.  So they ate a lot of pasta, used the lights and air conditioner sparingly and tried to get by.

Cody’s job combined with track practice didn’t leave him much free time, but he wasn’t willing to give up track.  He really enjoyed it and he was really good at it.  His coach mentioned he might be good enough to get a scholarship for college.  That was all Cody needed to hear.  College was his ticket out of his small town.  An education fr
om a good school meant a good job and an even better paycheck.  So he devoted himself to the track team, pushing himself harder and harder with each race, winning again and again.  His persistence paid off.  Senior year he was offered a full scholarship to the University of Florida in Gainesville, just a stone’s throw from Pinetree.  It was perfect.  He could go to school and still be near his mom.  He knew she needed him.

He needed her too.

Jane was elated at her son’s acceptance into the university.  She only wanted the best for him.  A wish fueled by the guilt of his childhood.  If he could make something of his life, then maybe her life wasn’t such a waste after all.

Cody started UF in the fall.  It was the first time in his life that he was on his own.  The first time he was free.

Now Cody could date.  Really date.

He told the girls he met that he was from Waldo, a town just outside Jacksonville.  Waldo was too far away for a quick visit with a new girlfriend, b
ut close enough in similarities to his home in Pinetree that he could sound like he grew up there.  No one at school knew him or his family.  No one knew that he was lying.  And no one had to.

College was freedom.  Cody shed his skin and all its scars, all the horrors of the past and the shame of his poverty lay dead on the floor.  He started school with a clean slate.  All people knew was that he was an athlete.  A title he was happy to have.

Cody made friends easily.  He lived on campus for three years, unusual, as most students moved off campus after the first year, but living in the dorm was affordable.  His senior year he moved into a house in the student ghetto, an area just north of campus.  He was still walking distance to school, so the fact that he didn’t have a car didn’t matter.  Cody’s roommates were three guys who had known each other since they were kids.  They were from Fort Myers, on the West coast of Florida.  They’d never heard of Waldo and didn’t care.  They met Cody in one of their auditorium classes and became fast friends.  Two hundred students in one room and they ended up next to each other in the front row.

Actually, their meeting was a bit of divine intervention.

Cody always sat in the front of the class.  Since his track scholarship had been based on academics as well as athletic ability, he was determined not to lose it.  So as geeky as it seemed, he sat in the front row of every class and took diligent notes.  He was not willing to lose his chance at a college education.  Three years of this philosophy had paid off.  Cody did well, very well, in school.

Alex, Harper and Bobby were a different story.  They arrived ten minutes late to class.

“So glad you showed up,” Professor Carlton said walking towards the tardy trio with a wireless microphone.  Because of the sheer size of the classroom, the professor chose to parade around class like Phil Donahue to get his students’ attention.  He was easygoing, but did not tolerate disrespect.

“Uh, sorry,” Harper said.

“I’m sure you are gentlemen, that’s why I think you’d love to sit in the front row right next to this studious young man.”  He stopped in front of Cody.

“Uh, right,” they replied and reluctantly walked all the way down to the front row.  The class got a good chance to study the three boys.  They snickered as the brown haired trio waved like three Miss Americas as they walked to the front of the class.

Of the three, Alex was the most attractive.  A tad overweight, his pudginess gave him a boyish charm that the ladies seemed to like.  Bobby was very tall and very skinny.  Brown freckles dotted his nose.  Lanky, like a basketball player, Bobby strutted next to Alex.  He wasn’t embarrassed.  Bringing up the rear was Harper.  Medium height, medium build, Harper was the most forgettable in appearance.  They fell in sync in the front row and sat down.  The three kicked back, not bothering to open their notebooks.  They did, however, observe Cody during class and his proficient note taking skills.  They cornered him at the end of the hour.

“Dude, we have a proposition for you.”

Cody looked over the three guys before him.  They were clean cut, preppy dressers.  Like no one he knew from home.

“What kind of proposition?”

“Listen, we’re not into the whole school thing.  We’re starting a band.”  Alex paused as if they were already rock stars.

“Yeah and..?”  Cody was not impressed.

“Anyway, class is kind of an inconvenience for us.  Any chance we can not go to class so we can practice and borrow your notes?”

“And what’s in it for me?”  Cody eyed them skeptically.

“How about some cash?”

Cody didn’t take long to make his decision.  “You’ve got a deal.”

Through their odd arrangement a strange friendship formed.  Cody would go to their house after school and give them copies of his notes.  They in turn would pay him.  Cody was grateful for the extra money and kinda liked their company.  The guys were quirky.  Since they’d been friends since childhood, they each knew everything about each other.  They had developed a shared sense of humor, the kind that you usually see in close families.  One word could set them off into fits of laughter.  Cody liked their camaraderie.  It made him see a side of life he never knew.  He was never close to anyone, and as far as his own family, it was nonexistent.  So Cody started hanging out with them more and more.  Stopping by even when he didn’t have notes to drop off.

Alex, Harper and Bobby were trying to start a band.  They called themselves Red Lawn.  The name meant nothing, they just thought it sounded cool.  They had an alternative sound.  The melodies were there, but neither Alex, Harper nor Bobby could write lyrics.

“Cody, listen to this new song,” Alex said strumming his guitar.  “Five six, seven, eight.”  Harper began beating the drums with a harder rhythm.  Alex and Bobby joined in on acoustic guitar and bass, respectively.  The melody was catchy, especially the chorus.

“Hey!”  Cody stood up and began applauding.  “It’s awesome.  What’s it called?”

“That’s the problem, we have no words,” Alex said, his point accentuated by Harper who hit the drums and cymbal. 
Buh-dum-dum.  Ching.

“It’s a shame, it’s a hit.”

“You really think so?” Alex said earnestly.  “We want to know, dude, for real, tell us...are we any good?”

Cody kicked back on the couch.  “You are.”  He wasn’t kissing up, he meant it.  The song was impressive.  “But, Alex, I hear the kids these days like lyrics in a song.”

“Ha...ha.”

“This sucks,” Bobby said putting down his bass guitar.  “Great song, no words.  Maybe we could be an instrumental rock band.”

Harper threw some papers at him.  “Yeah, that’s a brilliant idea.”

“The words’ll come.”  Cody was trying to make them feel better.

“Listen Cody, you don’t understand.  Alex, Harper and I...we got tons of songs.  Some with words, most not, but the truth is the ones with the words are crap,” Bobby explained.

“Hey I resent that.”  Alex stood up.

“Listen, dude, you don’t need to get all sensitive writer on me.”

“Bobby’s right, Alex,” Harper chimed in.