REWIND
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“BROTHER BROTHER BROTHER, THERE’S FAR TOO MANY OF YOU DYING”

NOVEMBER 24th, 1980

One of the problems with reliving your life is pinning the memories to the date of an event. In other words, things sneak up on me. I’ll be going merrily along, maybe get a glance of the date, and then a memory will sneak up and me, and I’ll go “Oh, yeah, that’s about to happen!” 

Today, it was, “Oh, no, that’s about to happen!” Because I realized what was going to happen exactly two weeks from today. 

My idol, John Lennon, was going to be murdered.

This is the problem with foreknowledge, especially foreknowledge of bad events. I felt like I should be doing something to stop this. But should I? And, if so, what? I’m gonna go to New York, knock on the front door of the Dakota, somehow get in to see Lennon, and tell him he’s going to be shot on December 8th? Yeah, right. Even if I were successful, they’d lock me up. And then probably arrest me as an accessory--I mean, how else would I know about it, right? 

But, shit, I had to do something, didn’t I?

Didn’t I?

There were days when the fucking ethics of being a time traveller gave me a throbbing headache. This was one of them. 

Look, I figured I’d been sent back for a reason. Now, what reason, and whose reason, I had no idea. I guess the point is, I didn’t figure that this was just some sort of random chance exercise, if you see what I mean. Because I knew that, in the grand scheme of things, just my existance as a person with future knowledge meant that I was a variable, and a severe one. I knew I had changed countless lives just by being sent back. 

But I’d done that just by living, you know? The alternatives were to go hide in my room for thirty years, or retrace my steps exactly from the first time. And neither of those options were really options. Hell, if I thought I had to relive my life exactly the way it was the first time, I wouldn’t ever make it back to 2007--I’d throw myself off the Tobin Bridge long before then. Once was enough, thankyouverymuch. And, honestly, I didn’t think that the whatever that sent me back expected that, either. That’s not much more than an educated guess, sure, but that’s the way I felt about it. I know I wasn’t going to throw away a second chance like that.

That all being said, though, just the act of me reliving my life differently changed umpteen other lives, and I knew it. I mean, just start with this--four out of the six other people in the band were people I never even knew in the first life. Though I like to think I changed most people’s lives for the better--because I was a better person--I know that wasn’t always the case. And what about people I did know in the first life but never met in this one? How had their lives changed? I’d probably never know.

This wasn’t something I dwelled on--that would probably just drive me insane--but it did pop up in my head from time to time. I knew it was there, and just hoped everything would turn out OK.

But this? This would be different. This would be actively trying to preempt an event. This wouldn’t be just me sending off waves by merely existing--this would be me inserting myself into a future event.

I decided I just had to give it a shot. How, though? As I said, I didn’t want to implicate myself. 

I decided on a letter--typewritten, of course. Basically saying that I know this is hard to believe, but I can see the future, yadda yadda yadda, and you’re going to be killed on December 8th. Ending with a plea that even if he didn’t believe me, it wouldn’t hurt to protect himself on that date. 

Now, where to send it from. I didn’t want it postmarked Cabot, that narrows it down too much. It would be better to have it postmarked Boston. That was easily solved.

NOVEMBER 28th, 1980

You see, on this day, the day after Thanksgiving, I was in Boston. Camping out again to see Bruce. He was coming to the old Boston Garden for shows on the 15th and 16th of December.

No Cousin Sandy this time. Mom figured I was old enough to camp out without Cousin Sandy. Olivia’s mother couldn’t care less. Michelle’s parents were a little harder to crack, but they agreed. Stan’s parents had no problem with it. So, it was the four of us. We got tickets to the show on the 15th. And, while we were there, I slipped away and found a mailbox. 

DECEMBER 8th-9th, 1980

And it didn’t work.

Damn it all.

I don’t know if he ever got the letter. I never heard anything about it, no news reports of a mysterious warning letter, nothing. I can only assume it vanished into an unread pile of ‘fan’ mail; or that he got it, read it, and dismissed it. The former was more likely. 

It happened; I found out about it, just the way I had the first time around. I was watching the Patriots play the Dolphins on Monday Night Football. John Smith, the Patriots’ kicker, was lining up for a game-winning field goal--which he’d miss--as Howard Cosell told us all that John Lennon had been murdered. 

The first time it had happened, I screamed so loud I woke up my parents. This time, I just cried a little bit. I didn’t really have a lot of hope that my letter-writing idea would work, but I had a little hope. It was dashed with Howard Cosell’s words. 

Either I made more noise than I thought I did, or my mother has a really well-defined sixth ‘Mom’ sense. Because she came downstairs to see me sitting there, sobbing. “Eddie? What’s wrong?”

“Oh, Mom, I didn’t hear you come down,” I said. “John Lennon was murdered tonight.”

“What?”

“Howard Cosell just announced it on the game,” I said, still sniffling a bit. “Apparently he was shot to death in front of the Dakota building, where he lives. They don’t know much more than that.”

“Oh, honey,” she said, coming over and giving me a hug. I didn’t mind, not even at almost-sixteen. I’d always had a good relationship with Mom, even the first time around, even at this age. 

“You’ve had a rough year,” she said sadly. “I know this isn’t the same as Beth, but I also knew how much you admired John Lennon.”

“Yeah,” I said. “What really sucks is that he’d just made a comeback. First album in five years, and it’s great. He was even talking about touring.” I sighed. “A lot worse for other people than me, though. His and Yoko’s son is only five.”

“That’s tough,” she said. “You gonna be OK?”

“Yeah. I’m going to go to bed soon.”

I did so, not sleeping all that much. 

I got up, and went downstairs for breakfast. Dad, who always gave me shit about my music, especially the Beatles--he was more of a Sinatra/Benny Goodman guy--actually said, “It’s a shame. That man was a genius.” I was stunned he actually admitted it! 

I was munching on breakfast, when the phone rang. Since I was sitting underneath it, I answered it.

“Oh, God, I just heard. Are you OK?”

“Yeah, I’m OK, Livvie,” I told her. “I’m glad to hear your voice, though.”

“Good, then I’m glad I called. I knew how much he meant to you.”

“Yeah.” 

“I’ll wait for you in front of school. You’ll need a hug.”

“That I will,” I laughed, thankful for the laugh. “Thanks.”

I went down to catch the bus to school, and I found out it wasn’t just Olivia. Danica Rosen got on and immediately sat next to me. “Figured you needed a friend this morning,” she said. I told her I did, and that I was grateful.

When I got into school, there was even more of that. Although, in my circle, it wasn’t just me that needed consoling. Stan was as broke up as I was, even though we’d often joked that I was the Lennon guy in the band and he was the McCartney guy. He was still very upset. 

Honestly, everyone in the band was upset. We were all Beatles fans. 

That night, after supper, I got a phone call--Kara. Thank goodness for Kara. She’d heard the news and had called to make sure I was OK. 

After we talked about Lennon’s death, talk turned to other things. “Peter and I slept together for the first time this weekend,” she told me.

“Good for you.”

“Yeah, it was his first time ever.”

“Oh, really?” I said. “How was it?”

“Not bad, considering,” she laughed. “And he seems very trainable.”

“Uh-huh,” I laughed.

“Of course, the trick is trying to train him while I’m acting all innocent and previously virginal.”

“Excuse me?”

“Peter’s under the impression that it was my first time as well. No, I didn’t tell him that. But I also didn’t correct him. If he asked me outright, I’d admit I had other lovers. But I’m not going to volunteer it. Peter’s fragile, especially when it comes to girls and sex and all.”

“So, what did you tell him about me?”

“I told him you and I were very, very good friends. I also told him you used to go out with my best friend Kelly. All true, right?”

“Well, part of the truth,” I laughed.

“I’ll tell him everything sooner or later. Right now, he wouldn’t take it well. It would be a kick in the male ego, and his male ego is very underdeveloped.”

“Your business,”  I told her. “You know I won’t spill the beans. Just be careful.”

“I will,”

I laughed. “Doesn’t it kind of amaze you that we can talk so easily about these things?”

“Yeah, kind of,” she said. “I’ll admit it, I have the odd twinge.”

“The odd twinge?”

“Well, like at the dance. Look, I’m crazy about Peter. I’m definitely falling in love with him. So, there I was, dancing with this guy I love--and I look and up on stage is this other guy I love. There are times when it’s weird.”

“Yeah.”

“Of course, you didn’t notice, not at the dance. I might as well have not been there. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of Olivia,” she teased.

“Well, I’d never seen her dressed like that. It was a complete surprise.” 

“Uh-huh,” she laughed. “And it didn’t surprise me when you’d told me you’d slept with her the next day.”

“You have a dirty mind.”

“And where, pray tell, did I get that?” 

“Why, I’m sure I have no idea!”

“Uh-huh. Anyhow, you can’t hide me from Olivia, she already knew, so how does she deal with it?”

“Perfectly fine.”

“Doesn’t mind that we’re still friends?”

“Not at all.” My voice dropped a bit. “She told me that because she was such good friends with Beth, she knows how loyal and trustworthy I am.”

“That makes sense. And good. I’m glad Olivia doesn’t feel threatened.”

DECEMBER 20th, 1980

It had been a busy week. We went to see Bruce on the 15th, and it was great (as it always is). On this day, a Saturday, it was Winston Craymore’s party. 

Cabot’s middle class, most of it. But there are pockets. There’s a few poorer sections, like where Livvie lives. And there’s some rich sections, too, out in far West Cabot. I think the richest section of all was Win Craymore’s house.

Jeez, what a mansion. We got there early, of course, to set up, and Win was there to let us in. He showed us the room where we were going to be--jeez. It was like the big ballroom in the Sound of Music. And that was only the ‘dancing’ room--there was another adjacent room where the caterers were spreading out the food. Yeah, caterers. Unbelievable. 

It’s too bad Bruce Springsteen hadn’t yet released the song “Mansion on the Hill.” If he had, I’d be tempted to play it!

Win was cool, though. As I said, I didn’t know him well, and had never met him in the first life. He kept to his own crowd so I hadn’t talked to him much. I guess I figured he was a snob. He wasn’t, really. Olivia was there with me, of course, and Win was even very nice to her. If he was going to look down on anyone snobbishly, it would’ve been dirt-poor Livvie. He didn’t. The more I talked with him while we were setting up, the more I liked him.

And that became clear when a girl came into the room and walked over to him, smiling, and kissed him. He introduced her to us as his girlfriend. He didn’t have to introduce me, though, I knew her--her name was Kerry Roddicks and I’d known her since grammar school. She lived one street over from me, as a matter of fact. She was a nice kid, we’d always gotten along. And Kerry wasn’t in anything even resembling Win’s socioeconomic class. Not like Livvie, but my neighborhood was strictly middle-class; and on the ‘lower’ end at that. Seeing Win cuddling up to Kerry explained why he wasn’t a snob. 

“Eddie!” she said on seeing me.

“You know each other?” Win chuckled.

“He lives on the next street over from me, I’ve known him since first grade,” Kerry grinned. “Although he was always the class nerd, not the class rock-and-roller.”

“I’m still the class nerd, I’m just branching out,” I laughed.

“Branching out well,” she teased. “I was at the dance. You guys are terrific. I was thrilled when Win told me he’d lined you guys up to play.”

Win had gone off to greet other people coming in. Kerry sat down to chat a bit. “I’ll admit, I’m a bit surprised,” I told her. “I never figured you for an A-lister, Ker.”

“I’m not,” she laughed. “Look, Win is sweet as all get-out. We’ve been going out since the end of last year and I really like the guy. Some of his friends, however, I can do without. Some of them only hang around with him because he’s Win Craymore, rich handsome football player. He knows that. But he just puts up with it.”

I got what she meant a little later when some of Win’s friends started piling in. Mostly A-listers, of course. Some of them were OK. Some of them were not--like Jim Samuels.

Jim was a dick. Gorgeous, football player, girls all over him--you know. He was cocky as hell. Convinced his shit didn’t stink, basically. All high schools have guys like him, right? I just tried to ignore him.

And I would’ve this night, as well, if it weren’t for the girl he had tucked under his arm.

Kelly. 

Jesus. What the hell did she see in him? Look, we tried to avoid one another--but we went to the same school. We ran into each other every so often, we couldn’t avoid it. We didn’t talk much except for the odd “Hi”. I knew sooner or later I’d see her walking with her arm around a guy. Hell, if she’d walked in five minutes earlier, she would’ve seen me sitting there with Livvie on my lap! So, seeing her with a guy...well, I figured it’d happen.

But Jim Samuels? Jeez. 

Debbie saw me looking. “You know her?” she asked.

“Kelly Cullinane. Known her since first grade.”

“She’s in trouble,” Deb said.

“Hm?”

“If she’s with that ass Jim Samuels, she’s in trouble. Guess who was the number one contributor to my reputation?” 

“Oh, shit, Deb,” I said. “I knew he was an ass, but I didn’t know he was a talker.”

“Like a fucking megaphone,” Deb spat. “Oh, and he dumped me right after he’d gotten me in bed.” 

And Kelly was with this asshole? Jeez. 

It took a couple of minutes for Kelly to look towards the stage and spot me, sitting on the edge tuning my guitar. She looked upset, but she walked over anyhow. “Hi, Eddie,” she said. 

“Hi,” I said back, then deliberately turned to my right and slightly behind me. “Deb, dear, are you done with my pitch pipe yet or what?”

“Yes, boss,” she smirked. “Here you go.”

I took my pitch pipe, blew an E, and went to tune my low E string. When I looked up, Kelly was gone. Good. I did not feel like making small talk with her. Not tonight, not if she was going out with that ass. Yeah, it was a brush-off, but.....I probably would’ve said something. Which wouldn’t have been smart.

Anyhow, Livvie came back from the ladies’ room shortly thereafter and I forgot all about Kelly and the Jerk. 

The place was starting to fill up. There were more adults there than I’d expected. There were a lot of people, though, adults and kids our age. Then it was time to play. Win introduced us.

I stepped up to the mike. “This is a joyous occassion, a Christmas party. And we’ll get all happy in a minute. But we’d first like to play a slower song. Twelve days ago, a man who was very important to the members of this band was killed. He was my idol, and basically the reason I took up the guitar. So, we’d like to start off with one of his songs.”

We’d discussed this--which Lennon song to play to start off with. Karen suggested “Imagine” but that was already a cliche. Since we were going to play some Christmas songs anyway, Stan suggested starting with “Happy Xmas (War Is Over)” but we decided to play that later on. I wanted to start with a song that was just Lennon, without the Christmas overtones. Michelle said, “It should be one of his hopeful songs. Maybe ‘All You Need Is Love’?” I teasingly asked her if she had an orchestra to play along with us, because that song needed one. She suggested re-arranging it, and we thought about it. But that song was almost a cliche, as well. I joked that if we were going to start re-arranging Lennon songs with orchestral parts, I wanted to do “I Am The Walrus”. Michelle hit me. 

Then Debbie, agreeing with the ‘hopeful song’ thing, came up with the perfect choice.

She and I started it, me on electric and her on acoustic, playing almost in unison. I softly counted us in, and we hit it--the stately run of finger-picking that announces the beginning of “Dear Prudence”. 

The room hushed. There was no dancing and little talking--just listening. I think there were a lot of Lennon fans in that room, because there were a few eyes that weren’t quite dry. Including most of the band. But we nailed it, perfectly, right through. I was afraid I might be a little too emotional to get through the vocal, but I got through it fine. When Deb and I hit the little finger-pick on the outro, the place exploded. 

Then we started in on the promised Christmas Party--before the applause had died down, Stan hit the opening guitar riff, and we were off into “Jingle Bell Rock”. 

What we had planned was, mostly, the setlist that we’d played at the dance. However, we’d made a few changes--Christmas songs. “Jingle Bell Rock” was just the first. We threw some stuff out of the original set and inserted Christmas songs in. We did “Rocking Around the Christmas Tree,” which Michelle sang. I did a (barely) passable Elvis on “Blue Christmas”. We worked up a little arrangement for “The Christmas Song” which I love singing. We did the Drifters’ arrangement on “White Christmas” with Stan having a blast on the bass vocal part. 

Michelle did her best Darlene Love on “Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)” and also sang “Winter Wonderland”. I worked up a rock and roll version of “Let It Snow” that kind of sounded like “Eight Days A Week”! We did “Rudolph” based on the Caddilacs’ arrangement of it. Stan and I sang the Beach Boys’ “Little Saint Nick,” him on Mike Love’s part and me on Brian Wilson’s falsetto, to a great ovation. We did play “Happy Xmas (War is Over)” to applause and the odd tear or two.  And we ended the whole shebang with a screaming take on “Run Run Rudolph,” straight into Springsteen’s arrangement of “Santa Claus is Coming to Town”. 

Another successful gig for The Narcoleptics!

About halfway through the first set, I noticed something--a cute girl I’d never seen before had worked her way over to the side of the stage, close to our esteemed keyboard player. When we went back up for the second set, she went right back to that spot and stayed there like she was rooted. After we finished “Rocket Man”, I made sure to say into the mike, “On the piano, Kenny Russell!” The applause from a certain cute girl was rather enthusiastic. And I don’t think our esteemed keyboard player minded the attention one little bit!

I noticed Kenny chatting with her between the second and third set. And between the third and fourth set. And after the gig!

While we were packing up, I went over to him. “So, what’s up with that cute brunette that couldn’t keep her eyes off the piano player?” 

He laughed. “Her name’s Lisa. She’s Winston’s cousin, actually. She lives over in Salem. She seems really sweet.”

“Get her number?” I asked.

“Her number, and a date for sometime over Christmas break,” he smirked. Kenny was almost a  year older than me, he’d been sixteen since back in February, so he already had his driver’s license, the lucky dog. “That’ll be my first date since I got my license,” he said. “So much more convenient.”

“Don’t rub it in,” I said to his chuckle. “Anyhow, she’s very cute.”

“She is,” he agreed. “And, like I said, she seems very nice. I’m amazed. The girls are usually going for you damn guitar players.”

“I think Livvie had the ‘don’t bother, he’s mine’ sign on tonight,” I laughed.

“Yep. And you know Michelle did. I’m so glad the guitar players in this band are attatched. More groupies for the piano man!”

DECEMBER 21st, 1980

I got a call around noontime from Kara. She was home for Christmas break. So I went over to visit for a while.

It was great to see her. Mostly. Why only mostly? Well, Kara herself said it: “You know, I’m very glad to see you, but I’ll admit it’s not easy to sit here calmly talking to you. Part of me wants to jump you!”

“I know what you mean,” I laughed. “Though probably worse for you than me.” She looked at me. “Well, I can go jump Olivia any ol’ time I want. You won’t see Peter for close to a month.”

“Yeah, that’s part of it,” she agreed.

“Part of it?”

She blushed a little. “Well, you know, I do love him, don’t get me wrong. But when it comes to that, well, he’s not quite up to your standard.” I had to laugh--Kara grinned back. “He’s getting better, mind you. And he does have certain advantages...” she trailed off, a full blush creeping up her face.

“Advantages?” She shook her head. “C’mon, Kara, fess.”

“Well,” she started, “uh, he’s, well, he’s got you beat in size.”

I had to laugh, while rolling my eyes. “I’ve spent enough time in locker rooms, most of the world has got me beat in size.”

“You’re not self-conscious about it?”

“Oh, very,” I laughed. “You kidding me?”

“Oh,” she said. “Well, you have other major advantages. Stamina, for one. And recovery time. Even when you were thirteen. And that’s not just with Peter, that’s with every other guy I’ve been with. But the big problem Peter has is, well, other things.” The full blush was back.

“Ah,” I laughed. “Are we referring to my magic tongue?”

“Yes, we are,” she laughed back. “Peter doesn’t know quite how a clittie works. He either ignores it or tries to bite it off!”

“He’ll learn,” I said. “Just keep giving him the verbal encouragement when he hits it right.”

“Yeah,” she said. “I hope he learns. Either that or learns to last longer. I can climax vaginally, but not in a minute and a half!” 

“Well, I wish I were bigger, but I don’t know if I’d trade that for stamina.”

“You wouldn’t want to,” she said. “I’ll take the stamina any day.”

“He’s young. You’re his first. He’ll learn.”

“You were better from the get-go,” she said.

“When we were at the get-go, we were using rubbers. That kills the sensitivity some. By the time we were on our second go-round and you were on the pill, I was far more experienced.”

“Good point,” she said. “Since I’m on the pill, Peter and I have never used a rubber. And it’s probably too late to suggest it.”

“No doubt. But he’ll get better.”

“I hope so.” Kara changed the subject. “I talked to Kelly this morning.”

“Yeah?”

“She says that she was at that party you guys played last night.”

“Yeah.”

“She also said she tried to talk to you and you completely blew her off.”

“I guess I did,” I admitted. “Look, if I had talked to her I would’ve ended up sticking my nose in her business and pissing her off.”

“Why?”

“The guy she showed up with.”

“Jim? They’ve been going out for about a month. She says he’s really sweet.”

“She’s either smoking something, or she’s desparate and lying to herself. Jim Samuel is so completely full of himself his ego has its own zip code.”

“Really?”

“Yep. And that’s not the worst of it. He’s a talker.”

“A talker?” Kara asked.

“Fuck and blab. If Kelly gives him what he wants, she’ll end up with a reputation.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Debbie,”  I said. Kara looked at me blankly. “The blonde in the band?”

“Oh, yeah, Debbie. What about her?”

“She’s the school slut. That’s her rep, anyhow. And she told me that Jim Samuel was the biggest contributor to that rep. Not the only, but the biggest. She also told me that after he screwed her, he wouldn’t talk to her.”

“Oh, shit. So you really think this guy is bad news?”

“Very bad news. And Kelly surely wouldn’t have listened to me about it. And I couldn’t just talk to her about small-talk shit and not say anything.”

“You’re probably right. I’ll try to see if I can say something to her.”

“I hope you can get her to listen,” I said. 

DECEMBER 25th, 1980

Olivia, as I’ve said, didn’t have much of a family life. Considering she didn’t have much of a family. Christmas had never been anything special for her. So, this year, I invited her over to my house for Christmas. She was thrilled.

Well, ‘my house’ meant just that in the morning, for the gift-opening, but we went over my Grandmother’s for dinner. 

Livvie had a surprise for me. My Mom had offered to go get her, but she said she had that taken care of. I didn’t know how--I didn’t expect her mother to drive her over--but that was the surprise. She’d gotten her driver’s license a couple weeks before, I knew that. Another older woman--she’d been 16 since May, and sixteen and a half was the driving age in MA. Anyhow, she got her license, but figured it would be kind of pointless because she didn’t have anything to drive. Getting her mother’s car wasn’t going to happen.

But her brothers surprised her. They’d really grown up since they moved out of that house. They got her a beater car, and the brother that was a mechanic fixed it up. It didn’t look like much, but it ran well. That was their Christmas gift to her. She was surprised and very touched. So, she surprised me by showing up at my house at seven in the morning in her very own car. 

I had money. Not only that fifty grand I’d won on the Olympics, but I kept it up. I also had started investing a bit into the stock market. Knowing what stocks were going to explode was a nice little gift! I wasn’t rich, but I had money. So, I made sure Livvie had a good Christmas. She didn’t have nearly the money I did, but she was very good to me as well. After the gift-swap, we went to Gram’s for the traditional feast. 

I’d missed Gram in the first life. She’d died in 1997, rather suddenly. She fell down at her house and broke her hip, and was in the hospital. Just a broken hip, right? She could heal from that, right? Well, the strain, plus the diabetes she’d had for 20 years, kicked her into kidney failure late one night. She was dead in minutes. So, it was nice to have her around again.

I was the first grandchild, so she spoiled me rotten! Now, don’t get me wrong--I loved her to pieces, but she could drive you up the wall. Especially my brother--she drove him up the wall until the day she died. She was the stereotypical Italian grandmother--smother, smother, smother. The woman could crawl right up your ass and lay down roots. Drove my brother crazy. I was a lot better, I didn’t mind as much, and knew that Gram’s heart was in the right place. But she really could be overbearing, if you didn’t know her well.

Livvie didn’t know her well at all. In fact, they’d never met up until today. And it didn’t matter. She attached herself to Livvie the minute we walked in. And Livvie ate it up with a spoon. 

Thirty seconds after I introduced them, Gram pulled Livvie into the kitchen to help with the cooking. She made Livvie baste the ham and mash the potatoes and help stuff the mushrooms and all of it. And Livvie couldn’t stop grinning. 

Declan, my brother, was 12--and a smart 12, so I could talk to him about stuff. And, as I’d said, my Grandmother drove him nuts. So, after watching Gram two Livvie around the kitchen like a puppy on a leash, he plopped down next to me on the sofa in the living room. “God. Gram’s going to drive your girlfriend right up the wall.”

“No, she’s not.”

“Right! Did you see the two of them?”

“I sure did. Look, Dec, you have to understand something. Livvie’s mother is a useless drunk. And there’s no father, no grandparents, nothing like that. All there is are two older brothers, and until recently they were pretty useless themselves. Livvie needs attention. She gets a lot from me, but that’s different. Trust me on this. If Gram is doing the smothering Grandmother routine, Livvie’s basking in it.”

“If you say so,” Declan said, sceptically.

About ten minutes later, Livvie proved my point. She came into the living room and plopped herself on my lap. “Oh, Eddie, your grandmother is so nice!” she enthused.

I shot Declan a little grin. He just rolled his eyes at me!

After we ate, and opened presents, Livvie and I decided to take a little drive. She was all excited that she finally had her license and a car. We drove around for a while. It was starting to get dark, so we cruised looking at Christmas lights. I’d always been a nut about Christmas lights. Livvie enjoyed them, too.

“This has been the best Christmas of my life,” she sighed happily.

“You really liked my grandmother,” I teased.

“I did. She’s awesome.” 

We were driving near the Cabot Mall. All of a sudden, Livvie turned into the parking lot. She wasn’t going to the mall, of course--it wasn’t open on Christmas night. Livvie didn’t say anything, she just headed through the parking lot and up the back of it.

Then I realized--she knew about the parking spot.

It was one I’d used in the first life. There was a road along the side of the parking lot in the mall, parallel to the highway. After a while, the road just ended, turning into a dirt path. However, you could still drive on the path, and it led to an area surrounded by woods, set way back away from anything. It was an excellent place to go parking. 

“My brother told me about this place,” she said. “I’ve been waiting to get my license so I could take you here,” she grinned.

“Oh, really?” I teased.

“Uh huh. Push your seat back as far as it will go.” I did--it went back pretty far, this wasn’t a compact car. As soon as I got my seat back, before I knew it, Livvie was kneeling in front of me and was undoing my jeans. Before I could say a word, she had my dick in her mouth!

I’d not gotten a blowjob from Olivia. It just never seemed to work out that way. Generally, I went down on her--and by the time I’d done that for a bit she was begging me to fuck her. Not that I minded, mind you! But I’d never asked for a blowjob and she’d never offered.

Well, she was offering now. Actually, she didn’t offer--she just did it. And well. This might have been the first blowjob she’d given me, but I doubt it was her first ever. It was just too good. 

She made love to my dick with her mouth. And, when I looked down at her, she was looking up at me, her mouth in a small smile as it wrapped around my dick. 

It was that whole unbridled enthusiasm thing again. I mean, this was enthusiasm writ large. Livvie devoured my dick--and didn’t take her eyes off me the whole time, looking up at me with a completely blissful expression on her face. It was fantastic.

As I was starting to get worked up, she pulled off. She grinned up at me, nudging my dick with her cheek. “You know I love you, yes?”

“Yes,” I said, confused.

“What’s the difference between like and love?” she said with a little smile.

“Uh, what?” 

“Spit and swallow.” With that, she completely engulfed my dick in one stroke, and started pumping her mouth up and down on it. My GOD. It took about five seconds of that before I blasted her tonsils. And she was true to her word--she swallowed every drop. Shit, I came so much she probably gained five pounds!

After I was done bathing her larynx, she pulled off and said, “Mmmm, dessert!”

I had to laugh. “Dessert? Didn’t you get enough Christmas cookies at Gram’s?”

“That was carbohydrates. This was protein.”

“Ah,” I chuckled. “Livvie? That was unbelievable.”

“Glad you liked it. I figured, you’ve done me so many times that way, it was time to return the favor.”

“So I’ll continue to keep doing you that way, right?” I laughed.

“Well, no, but yes!”

“Like I wouldn’t anyway,” I said.

“I know,” she laughed, then gave me this coy little grin. “So, does that mean you want to switch places?”

I thought about that for a minute. Livvie was wedged in between my seat and the dashboard, down on her knees. She fit, but just barely--and she was about 5’4”. I was well on my way to the 6’3” I’d top out at. “I think if we tried to switch places, I’d get stuck and never get out.”

“Oh,” she said, disappointed.

“Back seat,” I quickly suggested.

“Good idea!”

We quickly got back there, and pushed the front seats all the way forward. As I said, this was a big car, so there was plenty of room. I took no time getting Livvie’s pants off--and took even less time diving in. 

As much as I loved blowjobs, especially great ones--and I’d just gotten a great one--I think I liked pussy-eating better. For one thing, it was that enthusiasm thing--I liked nothing better than watching an enthusiastic girl have an orgasm. For another thing, I genuinely liked the feel--and taste--of a pussy on my tongue. For a third thing, it was a turn on. Pheromones and all that. I’d been drained limp by that fantastic blowjob, but after a couple minutes of my tongue in Livvie’s cunny and I was an iron bar again.

After a couple months of having sex with Livvie, I’d figured out what she liked. Her whole pussy was sensitive, so I didn’t have to go right for the clit. Long licks down the middle of her labia got her going in a hurry. And if I did that long--and well--enough, when I did go for the clit, it was pretty damn explosive.

As I’ve said, Livvie showed her mounting passion with ragged breathing and wheezing and the like. Which, in a shut-off cold car, you could see coming out of her mouth! But she must’ve been getting more comfortable with me, because she was getting more vocal. I still got the wheezing at the start, but, when she came, I got a very loud “nnnnnnggggggyyyyyYYYYEEEEEEEEE!!!” I loved it!

I let her come down from that screaming orgasm--but not for long. Because she immediately hissed, “Get that thing in me! NOW!” 

I chuckled, reached in my pants for a rubber, slipped it on, and kneeled between her legs. “God!” she moaned as I slipped into her.

Look, I know I’m in the minority in this one, but it’s something I’ve felt since the first life--sex in the back seat of a car is vastly underrated. It gets a very bad rap. People say it’s uncomfortable--but I never had a problem. Hell, in the first life, I’d had sex more times than I can count in a Hyundai and didn’t have a problem! And this boat that Livvie’s brothers had given her was no Hyundai. It was almost as big as the car my first-life best friend Walt used to drive; a 1971 Oldsmobile Delta 88. Shit, you could have probably had an orgy in that thing! For sure, you could have one couple fucking in the front seat and another couple sixty-nineing in the back seat--and I know that one for a fact because I was in the back seat. 

Livvie’s car was a bit smaller than that Delta 88 tank--fucking in the front seat would’ve been a little tough--but there was plenty of room in the back seat. And, with enough room, fucking in a car is fun. First of all, you can get a good angle--she on the seat, slumped forward a bit, you on your knees. It was like fucking Kara on the couch, same kind of deal, only a little better--because Livvie got her feet up against the back of the front seat, which increased her leverage. It was a good platform for us to slam into one another. And the angle was good for both of us--I hit her clit square-on with every thrust.

The other cool thing about sex in cars is that slight hint of danger. No matter how isolated you get, there’s always a chance you might get caught. I liked that. I think Livvie did too. 

As Livvie got closer to her peak, I realized another cool thing about cars--decrease of inhibitions. It wasn’t just that she was getting more comfortable with me, it was that she wasn’t in her house. Though she knew her mother wouldn’t say shit to her about us being in her bedroom, she must’ve still been inhibited enough to keep the noise down. Because, here in a car, as I pounded into her, she actually started screeching. And when she came? A flat-out scream. Featuring my name! And, well, I guess even I was a bit louder than usual when I came.

Afterwards, still naked and cuddling on the back seat, Livvie looked up at me with a wicked grin and started softly singing, “All I want for Christmas is my boyfriend’s cock, my boyfriend’s cock, my boyfriend’s cock....”

I cracked up. “Well, then I guess it’s a Merry Christmas.”

“Uh HUH!”

JANUARY 10th, 1981

My sixteenth birthday, and a Saturday.

I had nothing planned, really. I knew my parents were going to have cake and ice cream, and Livvie was coming over for that, plus supper beforehand. Then we’d probably go out. 

I’d been conditioned not to be a nut about birthdays. Why? Look at the date. Two weeks after Christmas. I was lucky anyone even remembered my birthday. My parents tried, but they were always tapped out. My wife in the first life had been worse--my birthday was just another day. Maybe I’d get a kiss and a card. Of course, if I dared forget her birthday--which was in the summer unencumbered by Christmas--I heard about it. Typical.

Anyway...I was still conditioned not to make a big deal about my birthday. Even my sixteenth. Luckily, other people weren’t so conditioned.

There was a knock on the door just before noon. I went to open it, and there stood Stan, Michelle, and Debbie. The minute I opened the door, they started singing at the top of their lungs:

“Da-na-na-na-na-na, YOU SAY IT’S YOUR BIRTHDAY!
Da-na-na-na-na-na, IT’S MY BIRTHDAY TOO YEAH!
Da-na-na-na-na-na, YOU SAY IT’S YOUR BIRTHDAY!...”

You get the idea. I cracked up. And I think half the neighbors came outside to find out what the Godawful racket was! 

“Get your coat, asshole, we’re taking you to lunch,” Stan grinned. 

I grabbed my coat, and we all piled into Stan’s car. He’d had his license for a month or so. “So, where you taking me to lunch, Vetsy’s Subs?” I joked. That was Stan’s father’s sub shop. 

“I never go in that place unless I have to,” Stan said. “No, we figured the Ground Round would be cool.”

“I love that place,” I said. So that’s where we went. It was great, and the gang pitched in for my meal. We had a great time, laughing and joking. “So, the baby of the group has finally hit sixteen,” Stan teased.

“Yep, and I’m sure Olivia is very relieved she’s no longer committing statutory rape on poor innocent underaged Eddie,” Michelle joked.

“Yeah, right,” I said. 

“It’s funny when you think about it,” Stan said. “I don’t think you’ve ever had sex with a girl who wasn’t older than you.” I just looked at him. “Well, I know of four girls you’ve had sex with, and they were all older.” 

“Well, there’s been five,” I said. “And the one that you don’t know about is the only one that was younger,” I laughed.

“Do tell,” Stan laughed. “I didn’t know there was a fifth.”

“She doesn’t live anywhere near here and it only happened once,” I said. “Let’s just leave it at that. But she’s a year younger than I am. Heck, very few people know who the other four are. I don’t fuck and tell. I think the only people that know all four are you guys, Olivia, and Kara.”

“I only know two,” Debbie said. “You’ve told me about Kara. Livvie is obvious,” she grinned. 

“Since you’re trustworthy, and one of my best friends, I’ll tell you. One of them I should probably tell you anyhow. But the other was was Christine Seneca.”

“You are kidding,” Debbie gasped. “Little Miss Priss?”

“Not hardly,” Michelle snorted. “That’s only for public consumption. She’s not prissy at all.”

“Though our relationship was a big mistake,” I said. “Anyhow, the one I should tell you? Kelly Cullinane.”

“Oh, shit. The girl that was with Jim Samuels at Win’s party?”

“Yep.”

“Oh, man,” Debbie hissed. 

“What’s this about?” Stan asked. Debbie and I explained to Stan and Michelle what we were talking about.

“From you to Jim Samuels? Talk about moving way down in the world,” Michelle laughed.

We chatted all through lunch, then we went back to my place, just chatting and joking.

After a while, my Mom came in. “Well, I know Olivia is coming over, but were you planning on having all these guys for supper and cake as well?”

“Oh, no, Mrs. Bovilas, you don’t have to go through any trouble for us,” Stan said. Michelle and Debbie nodded agreement.

“No trouble at all,” Mom told them. “I’m making spaghetti and there’s plenty. And since we’re talking about Eddie here, I bought a big cake. Chocolate, even.” Everyone laughed at that. “I’m sure Eddie would like you to stay, even if it does cut down on his cake leftovers.”

“I will definitely live,” I said. “I’d love you guys to stay. And my mother’s spaghetti sauce is to die for.”

“Convinced me,” Debbie grinned. “OK if I call my Mom?” She did so, as did Michelle and Stan. The parents all agreed. Shortly after they got off the phone, Livvie showed up. I told them that the gang had taken me out for lunch. 

“Wasn’t that nice!” she said. 

We all gathered around to get supper. My parents, brother and sister, and grandmother were all there. Afterwards, we had the cake. The family did get me some presents, as did Olivia. Afterwards the five of us decided to all hit a movie.

We went to see “The Competition”, a Richard Dreyfuss-Amy Irving romance about two people in a classical piano competiton. It was a decent movie and I’d always liked it. 

And afterwards, Livvie and I went parking.

It was a very good birthday!

FEBRUARY 11, 1981

A Wednesday. Typical school day.

Not.

In the morning, in between classes, I stumbled into a bathroom. The urinals were occupied so I went into a stall.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

It was in big black letters: “KELLY CULLINANE IS A SLUT!!!” 

I went out and grabbed a paper towel and wet it in the sink. It didn’t work--it wasn’t coming off. Curious, I looked in a couple of the other stalls. 

In the first one: “KELLY CULLINANE GIVES GREAT HEAD!”

In the second one: “FOR A GOOD TIME, CALL KELLY CULLINANE!” 

Shit.

I had to tell her, didn’t I? Well, she might already know, but I had to make sure, didn’t I? Yeah, I did.

At lunch time, I hung around the entrance to the cafeteria, looking for her. I spotted her right off.

“Kelly?”

“Eddie? What do you want?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“Why?” She obviously would rather not talk to me. 

“Look, Kelly, it’s really important.”

“OK,” she sighed. We went out in the hall and I lead her to a quiet spot. 

“I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you really should know. Before last period, I stopped in the men’s room on the second floor. Kelly, I found graffiti on the stalls. With your name in it.”

“What?” she hissed.

“Yeah. Three different stalls. I tried to get it off but I couldn’t.”

“What did it say?” she croaked in a near-whisper. I told her. The poor girl turned white. 

“I’m sorry, Kel, but I thought you should know.”

“I know. Thanks for telling me.”

“You know who did this, right?”

“Yes,” she hissed. “Jim. He dumped me a week ago. I should’ve listened to Kara.” She looked at me. “Kara got her information from you, didn’t she?”

“Yeah. I knew you wouldn’t listen to me. I hoped you’d listen to her.”

“I should have.” She took a breath. “Eddie, why?”

I knew what she was asking me. I gave her a little grin. “I still consider you a friend, Kel. You should know that.”

She looked dumbfounded. But all she said was, “Thanks.” Then she turned and went back into the cafeteria. 

I looked up and saw Livvie standing there. “What was that about?” So, I told her. “Damn, poor Kelly. I’m glad you let her know, at least.”

Damn. I thought I’d get the riot act for talking to an old girlfriend. Livvie really was something else. 

--end of chapter--