Getting Higher (16 page)

Suddenly, a hand touched his back, making him flinch in surprise. It was a soft hand, the hand of a woman, and it was familiar...very familiar. " 'Morning, sport," whispered a voice. "Sleep well?"

Shelly! It was Shelly! "Oh, yeah," mumbled Joe in recognition, rolling over to see his companion. " 'Mornin', babe."

"'Mornin' babe yourself," Shelly grinned, tapping his chest.

Gazing at the woman, Joe was silent for a moment. She was sitting beside him on the bed with her back against the wooden headboard. Her face was just as lovely as it had looked when he'd first seen her, and her dark hair fell loosely about her shoulders. Joe smiled at her, and memories of the night before rushed pleasantly back to him.

He remembered it all vividly, felt himself warm at the fine recollections. After they'd spent some time at the party, and both had imbibed plenty of drinks, Shelly had asked him over to her place. She had invited him to her apartment, which was several blocks from the site of the party, and naturally, Joe had agreed. One thing had led to another, and now there they were, together in bed. Joe recalled that it had been a very good night, that he'd spent some memorable hours on that bed.

In the midst of his languid reminiscence, however, Joe had a sudden, sobering thought. "What time is it?" he asked, quickly sitting up.

"It's, uh..." Shelly turned away and plucked an alarm clock from her nightstand. "It's ten-thirty. You gotta' go to work or something?"

Hopping out of bed, Joe started fishing on the floor for his clothes. "Yeah, I do," he reported, grabbing garments. "I just got up in time. I don't start my shift till noon." Stepping into his jeans, he zipped them up and started looking for his shirt. After a moment's search, he found it, half-hidden under the bed. "Wow," he said as he yanked the shirt over his head. "Some party last night, huh?"

"Yeah," agreed Shelly. "It sure was."

Hurriedly, Joe grabbed his socks and shoes and sat down on the edge of the mattress. "1 had a really good time," he declared, pulling the socks and battered sneakers onto his feet.

"Me, too," she coincided. "We oughtta' get together again sometime, y'know?"

"I think we could work somethin' out." Finished dressing, he leaned over and kissed the girl, cupping her chin in his hand. As their lips meshed together, he revelled in the contact, in the excitement and feeling she inspired. He almost couldn't believe that he was there with her; he had never been so lucky with a woman like Shelly, with such a beautiful and classy woman. Amazingly, they had just met the night before, and already, he felt strongly about her...and apparently, she felt the same way about him. It had all happened so fast, like a dream, like the kiss which he had to end all too soon.

"I've gotta' go now," he said at last, shifting away from her. "It's almost time for my shift. I'll be up shit creek if I'm late."

"Well, hurry up then," smiled Shelly. "I better get going, too. This is my day off, but I still have to run out to Donaldson's to pick something up."

"I figured you worked there," he observed. "You knew a whole lotta' people at Barb's last night. Whatta' you do, load trucks?"

"No, silly," giggled Shelly. "I'm a receptionist. I work for the main guy himself, Harry Donaldson. Harry's nice to me, and I get enough money to pay the bills."

"I work at Burger World," shrugged Joe. "It ain't a good job, and I don't get enough money, but it's work. You gotta' make do, I guess."

"Y'know," posted Shelly, frowning thoughtfully, "I think maybe I could get you in up at Donaldson's. I've got some connections, and I think the place is getting ready to do some hiring now. How 'bout if I look into it?"

"Sure, that'd be great." Joe glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand and realized that he had to get going. "Hey, I've really gotta' take off. I'll give you a call, okay?"

"Yeah," grinned Shelly. "I'll be here."

" 'Bye," said Joe as he headed out the door, leaving the woman behind him.

*****

At ten minutes before noon, Joe arrived at Burger World. He went to the Employee Dressing Room, wrestled his uniform from one of the lockers there, and quickly slipped it on. When he finally punched his timecard in the slot under the clock, it was exactly noon.

Immediately, he was again swept up in his daily routine. Orders for hamburgers and various meals accumulated like tickertape at the counter, and he was soon hustling busily around the kitchen trying to fill them. The grill grew a skin of sizzling meat, the deep fryer popped and hissed with the music of tormented French fries and onion rings. All thoughts of Shelly were forcibly shoved to the back of his mind, all distracting memories were drowned in the syncopated, insistent rhythm of work.

After a little while, Mr. Stevens ambled into the kitchen, hands clasped behind his back. He sauntered into the room as he often did, touring the restaurant like a cop walking a beat to check on everyone.

"Hey, Joe," opened Mr. Stevens, strolling around to stand behind him. "How's it going back here?"

"Not too bad," said Joe, smiling politely at the boss as he flipped burgers. "I'm a little behind, but I'm gettin' caught up. Mike punches in at one, so he oughtta' be able to help me out." After flipping a few burgers, Joe moved to the fryer and filled one of the waiting baskets there with French fries. "We're pretty busy today," he commented, dropping the basket of fries into the thick, bubbling grease.

"Oh, yeah," agreed Mr. Stevens, adjusting one of the temperature knobs on the grill. "We're getting a really good rush this morning. I'm expecting an even bigger crowd for supper, so you might have to stay late." The manager idly surveyed the counter surface above the grill, then yanked a damp cloth from a nearby work-table and rubbed at some smudge that he had spotted.

Joe returned to stand before the grill. As Mr. Stevens watched, he lifted burgers with his spatula, placing them on buns which he'd already laid open. "Well, at least you'll be bringin' in some bucks today," he said distractedly, "what with all this business." After folding the buns over the burgers, Joe wrapped them in orange paper sheets, then pushed them over the counter where the cashiers would pick them up.

"Yeah," said Mr. Stevens aloofly. "We'll do okay." Apparently satisfied with Joe's performance, the manager turned and walked back across the kitchen.

Joe was glad when the man disappeared from the kitchen. Actually, he liked Stevens; he was nice to Joe and the rest of the crew, and seemed to make an effort to treat them fairly. Certainly, he was more likeable than the other manager, the inept and obnoxious Mr. Gurney. Like most supervisors, though, Stevens had a talent for making people nervous, particularly with his frequent reconnaissance tours through the workplace. He kept a close eye on his employees and had a knack for pointing out what they were doing wrong. Naturally, this made them all quite uncomfortable, even though Stevens rarely treated anyone in a hostile fashion. Usually, Joe felt better when the boss wasn't breathing down his neck.

At that moment, Mike walked into the kitchen. He already had his uniform on, and looked purposeful, as if he was ready to get to work. "Hi, Joe," he greeted, striding to the grill and grabbing a spatula. "What's up?"

"Not much, man. You punched in already? I could use some fuckin' help if you are."

"Hell, yes," answered Mike. "I decided to start a few minutes early when I saw how busy it was."

"You mean Stevens told you to start early, right?"

"You think I wouldn't help you out of the goodness of my heart?" Mike shook his head in feigned disbelief.

"Nope," said Joe with certainty.

"Well," conceded Mike with a roguish smirk, "maybe he mentioned it to me. Just in passing, y'know."

"I thought so," laughed Joe. "Well, since you're here, ya' might as well get your ass in gear. Get me two Matey Meals, one with chocolate shake, the other with Coke." Joe fell silent and again concentrated on the grill. The fries were done, the burgers needed flipping, and he had to get more buns. Order slips were still stacking up on the counter, and one of the cashiers was yelling back for a meal that was taking too long. Things were getting busier, and Joe had to immerse himself completely in procedure.

In the back of his mind, though, he still clung to images of Shelly. Joe felt good when he pictured her face, and he knew that he had to see her again very soon.

*****

That night, Joe finished work just as late as he had the night before, but this time he made his way home instead of going to a party. He clambered up the stairs of Rocky's building, let himself into the apartment with his key, and headed immediately to the fridge to get a beer. He heard Rocky in the shower and decided that it would be a good time to call Shelly.

As he slugged down some beer, he fished through the pockets of his jeans for Shelly's phone number. It was scribbled on a slip of paper which he'd torn from an envelope; she'd dictated the number to him at the party, and he'd secreted it hastily in his pocket.

Joe found the precious scrap of paper in the left rear pocket of his jeans and uncrinkled it to read the number. Swallowing more beer, he dialed the phone, the receiver tucked between his ear and his shoulder. He heard the phone ringing, then a click; his pulse quickened noticeably when he heard Shelly's voice.

"Hello," she said pleasantly. "This is Shelly."

"Hey babe," said Joe. "Guess who this is."

Shelly laughed once, sounded uncertain. "Uh, I really don't know. Who is it?"

"Come on," chuckled Joe. "Take a guess. You know who I am. Think, babe."

After a short pause, she laughed loudly. "Oh, it's
Joey
! I'm sorry! I should've
known
it was you!"

"Yeah, you should've," he snickered, "but I won't hold it against you. So, what're you up to tonight?"

"Funny you should ask. I was just going to ask you the same question."

Joe grinned, thrilled to death that she still seemed receptive. "Well, I'm free all night. You wanna' go somewhere? Maybe have a few drinks or somethin'?"

"Yeah," chirped Shelly enthusiastically. "I'd like that. I know a really nice bar we can go to, right near here."

"When you want me to come by?" asked Joe expectantly.

"Give me a little time to get ready. How 'bout ten-thirty? It's ten now."

"Sounds good," approved Joe. "I'll be there."

"So will I," she said warmly. "See you later, alligator."

"Okay," said Joe. "I'll see ya' soon." The phone clicked as Shelly hung up, then Joe replaced the receiver in its cradle. Victoriously gulping some beer, he turned and intended to get ready to leave...only to see Rocky there watching him. The bulky guy was leaning against the wall, wrapped in a towel that hung from his waist down to his knees. Slyly leering and shaking his wet head, he cagily winked.

"Joey, Joey, Joey," he clucked. "So you finally got yourself a woman. I don't believe it."

Rising, Joe set his beer on the table. "Well, it's nothin' really. She was at that party last night, and..."

"Yeah," doodled Rocky, lifting an eyebrow. "I know what happened next. You two
disappeared
for the rest a' the night! Way ta'
go
, bud! I'm proud a' you! You're startin' ta' take after
me
!"

"Thanks a lot," Joe cynically smirked. He walked past Rocky into the bedroom and shut the door. Joe wanted to don some nicer clothes, abandon the ragged old jeans and T-shirt that he was wearing.

"Looks like you really
got
this babe," shouted Rocky from beyond the closed door. "You're takin' her out tonight, huh? Not bad, not bad. You really got yourself a live one, this time."

"Hey," said Joe, searching Rocky's closet for a shirt that he could borrow. "She's nice. Not just nice-lookin', either. I mean, she's hot, but she's got a great personality, too."

"'She's got a great personality'?" roared Rocky. "Shit, man! That's what they
all
say, Joey!"

"No, I mean it," Joe qualified defensively. "She's really nice." He paused, slid some clothes hangers over the rod in Rocky's closet, then added: "Plus, she's great in bed!"

Rocky howled deafeningly, slapping the door so hard that it rattled in its frame. "Ha!" he erupted. "I knew you had it in you, Joey! All right!"

Joe found the shirt he had in mind, a black silk one with a collar and long sleeves. He put it on, then removed his pants and stepped into a pair of jeans that Rocky had just bought. Since Rocky was a few sizes bigger than Joe, the jeans were baggy and pretty loose around the waist, but Joe tightened them up with a brown leather belt and he thought they'd look okay. He glanced in the mirror then to make a final check of his appearance.

As he smoothed his hair and adjusted his clothes, it suddenly hit him: he realized how different he was from the way he had been for most of his life. His hair was short and he had no beard or mustache; he wore a black silk shirt and new bluejeans, not his standard, filthy old clothes; he was clean, and had gained a little weight; he had money in his pocket, and a steady job; he had a job and a girl, and he lived in an apartment and helped pay the rent. He wasn't the same anymore. He wasn't the original Joe Jones, who had slept in the street and eaten garbage and collected unemployment. Incredibly, but without any fanfare, he had changed.

For a moment or two, he gazed into the mirror at the person he had become, remembering the person he had been. He wondered if he really liked himself this way, and why he had changed in the first place. He had never really wanted to change, to give up the way he had been; it had just happened gradually, unobtrusively, like the movement of the hour hand on a clock. All along, he'd been progressing toward this transformation, but he hadn't noticed until this very instant that any movement had taken place at all. He guessed that he liked himself now; there wasn't anything that he really hated about his new life. Things were good, in fact, and the more that he thought about it, the more he realized that he was happy. He had money, and a job, and a friend, and a place to stay, and a woman. Yeah, he was doing pretty well...a whole lot better than he'd ever done before. There was certainly nothing to complain about.

Still, he missed his beard. He'd had a lot of good times in the old days, too, and he missed them. He missed Tap's Bar, and he missed Crank.

When he tried to picture Crank, though, when he tried to imagine him in the mirror, he failed. He just couldn't seem to do it.

Joe thought for a moment, staring intensely at his reflection.

Then, he thought of Shelly, and headed out the door for his date.