Lawrence of Suburbia Part V Oh Goddess!

Remember the old seriel stories?  Lone Ranger, Cisco Kid, King of the Texas Rangers (do you see a recurring theme here?) where there was this hero and he saved the village and restored law and justice?  Yeah this isn't one of those.  This is the misadventures of a young girl trying to figure out her place in things. 

This is part 5 of my story if you are following if not and want to catch up it starts here Lawrence of Suburbia or you can go to my sidebar and click on my tags: Lawrence of Suburbia and it will take you to the series.  Now return with me to those thrilling days of yesteyear... Hi Ho Gladys...



PART V: Oh GODDESS!

Gladys arrived at the beautiful prairie style house located just outside of town. She drove up the road marveling at the way the lights glittered in the windows and the smell of hay. Her little car eased up the caliche circle drive and she parked in front of the brightly lit porch. Gladys looked around and thought someday I want to have a house like this. Wouldn’t it be grand to be married to Omar and live here with Hawkeye? We could walk the fields and feed the cows and have horses.

She was awakened from her reverie “Hey Gladys! Glad you found the place!” Eunice dressed in a colorful caftan came down the steps from the porch carrying a margarita glass. She reached over and kissed each of Gladys’ cheeks “come on up here and bring that bucket of chicken.” They climbed the steps and settled into a couple of wooden rocking chairs on the porch. Gladys was overwhelmed by the hominess and comfort of the whole pastoral setting. It was as if she were in a movie or better yet a Laura Ingalls Wilder book. She could see it now Little Gladys on the Prairie. She would be in a skirt and apron waiting for Pa to return from getting supplies in town at the Olson’s General Store.

Gladys realized Eunice had asked her a question and she swallowed her gulp of tangy lime and tequila “I’m sorry what did you say?” Eunice patted her on the hand “Hun, what was all the water works about this afternoon? You got man problems?” Eunice’s question was a hot poker on the wound. “Yep” Gladys was able to choke out. Eunice picked up a heavy glass pitcher with a blue rim and poured more liquid into Gladys glass. She sat down took a deep breath and lit a little incense stick. The aroma of sage and patchouli saturated the early evening air. Then Eunice began to chant “ohhhhmmmmmkneeekholeee” over and over again. Gladys shifted uneasily in her chair and took another big gulp of the salty lime concoction. She watched as Eunice went through her ritual wondering if she were some type of witch doctor or voodoo lady.

When Eunice had finished her chant she leaned over and ran her finger through the ashes of the burned incense. She got up from her seat and walked over to Gladys. She began to chant “release this child from her heartbreak, release her from her suffering, and release her from the grasp of this man.” Gladys sat frozen in her chair unsure if she was a part of some type of satanic ritual or if her new found friend was crazy as a bed bug. Gladys watched intently and silently as Eunice lifted her hands over her head and cried out for the goddess’ protection. She wiped the ashes up Gladys forehead and down her nose. She swiped up another batch of ashes and shook them over Gladys head then fell to her feet and whispered “so it shall be”.

Gladys didn’t know what the proper etiquette here was. Had she been in her church back home she would have said a resounding AMEN. She was out of her element and just what goddess was Eunice crying out to? Should she make a comment or stay silent. Nurse Meme had always said when you don’t know what’s going on it’s best to keep your trap shut. That is precisely what Gladys did with the exception of downing the rest of her tangy drink.

Eunice once again took her seat and grabbed Gladys by the hand “Okay hun, nothing you say or think about this man will hurt you anymore. You are under the protection of the goddess. Go on and tell me all about this bastard who obviously broke your heart.” Gladys sighed and held her glass out for a refill; she needed some liquid energy to get her started. She took a drink and then told Eunice the whole story, well almost the whole story. She told her of the Sundays at the lake, the late night dinners and the trips to the afternoon matinees on her days off but for some reason kept both his occupation and name to herself.

They had been on the porch for several hours and had consumed several pitchers of margaritas yet Gladys still felt incredibly thirsty. “Hun, there is another pitcher of these in the freezer in the kitchen. You wanna get them” Eunice asked. Gladys giggled, hic-cupped “sure.” She stumbled from her chair and made her way through the tastefully decorated old farm house. She could feel the tequila taking over her body and mind. Her face was numb, a sure sign that she was tipsy. She found the kitchen and the big green refrigerator. She opened the freezer and found not one but three more pitchers of margaritas. Boy, Eunice must really like margarita’s she thought. She set the glass container on the table and turned to shut the freezer door when she heard a dog barking and whining at the door. Gladys walked over to the screen door turned the latch and was instantly assaulted by the biggest most beautiful Irish setter. He jumped on her and began to lick her face.

Gladys was instantly sober. How could this be? How could Hawkeye be here at this house? How could he be here at this house miles from anywhere? She looked around the kitchen and it didn’t make sense. Maybe he had escaped from Omar on one of his excursions. Omar must be mad with worry. He must be panicking. She had to get Hawkeye in her car and back to Omar. She grabbed Hawkeye by the collar and started back out to the porch to explain to Eunice why she must go.

She pulled the big dog through the parlor but as she did something caught her eye. There above the fireplace mantle as big as could be was a beautiful black and white photograph. Gladys stopped and gasped as she looked at the photo. It was taken outside on the porch steps of this very farmhouse. There was no mistaking that the dog in the picture was Hawkeye and that the other two subjects were Eunice and Omar. They were kissing with Hawkeye looking up at the two of them. The picture radiated happiness and love.

Gladys was paralyzed. Her pickled brain was trying to process what she was seeing. Hawkeye was trying to pull her back into the kitchen and her feet were melded into the floor. Then the light bulb illuminated and it all became clear. Gladys let go of the Irish setter and turned for the door. She ran as fast as she could through the house and out the door. She literally flew from the porch and was driving down the drive before the screen door shut. Her last impression was of Eunice standing on the porch mouth agape and margarita glass held up in a protest.

Tune in next week and don't forget to drink your Ovaltine....

Lawrence Of Suburbia Part IV

This is the next installment of Lawrence of Suburbia.  I guess that is stating the obvious since it isn't the last installment.  Once again we peak in on the niave college girl alone in the not so big town.  Now if you are just joining us, too bad, I'm not telling you what is going on.  You have to go back here and read this and then this, then this.    So lets go back to those thrilling days of yesteryear and the adventures of....

Part IV – Life Lessons


Gladys enjoyed her time with Omar. She would meet him for dinner or accompany him on drives through the countryside. He was always a gentleman and never made suggestions that were untoward. He would visit Gladys at her job or they would meet at the Ice House Bar.

She loved working her afternoons at the department store and picked up extra hours by working in the office. Mr. Bean, the store manager, treated her as if she were one of his own children. He would ask if she had eaten, gotten her oil changed and made it to all her classes. He was a jovial and fatherly type who always had a kind word and peppermints in his pocket. “Gladys would you mind terribly running this deposit to the bank?” he asked one afternoon. She was thrilled with this new task and proud that he had that much faith and trust in her. She took the locked bank bag, swung her blue jean purse over her shoulder and walked to her car.

Gladys walked into the First National Bank building and made her way to the teller line marked “commercial”. She felt so grown up and important standing there with her fellow business people. An elderly man with a blue suit and brown cowboy boots stood in front of her. All around her were important people conducting business. They were applying for loans and depositing their day’s earnings and there she was in the middle of it all, feeling just as important. The teller motioned her forward with a smile. “Hi! How are ya today?” the pretty red haired girl asked. Gladys liked this woman working in this big bright beautiful building that had the aroma of money wafting through its rafters. They chatted as the red haired girl named Eunice tallied up the deposit and stamped the slip. Eunice smiled as she handed the bag through the slot “you come back to my window and we’ll chat some more. Ok?” Gladys promised she would and almost skipped back to her car. She loved being independent and grown up. She could make friends and take on new responsibilities and didn’t have to worry about how late she stayed out or wonder what her mother would say.

Gladys was in General Psychology class. Dr. Thornton was droning on and on about narcissistic behavior. His class was in a large auditorium type class room that was once again packed. She looked to her left and saw one of her study partners signaling. Dave, a city policeman, kept mouthing something. Gladys tilted her head to the side and made a questioning gesture. Dave pointed toward the door, then at his watch then back at the door. Finally she figured out he was asking to meet him after class. Gladys figured it was something about the upcoming observation project on which they were partnering. She slapped her forehead then smiled and nodded yes and went back to taking as many notes as possible.

“So, what have you been up to” Dave asked over coffee. Gladys smiled and told him about the guy she had been seeing. He listened intently, but his demeanor changed when she told him that he owned the most popular salon in town. He leaned in toward her and asked “so how close are you to this guy?” Gladys smiled wistfully and said “well, I kind of think of him as a big brother or fairy god-father.” Dave looked her in the eyes with concern and said “well be careful.” She passed it off to the fact that Dave was a cop; he was suspicious and protective by nature. Gladys also had a gleaming of an idea that it had to do with the fact that Omar was 20 years her senior.

“Where is my little one?” Gladys heard him ask as she was packing up the store’s deposit. “Omar! What are you doing here” she asked as she came through the office door. He grabbed her shoulders and kissed each cheek “I came to see if my little one had eaten today.” Gladys blushed and looked to see if her co-workers had witnessed the exchange “nope, don’t have time. I’m on my way to the bank.” Omar looked at the bag and then up at Gladys “what bank?” Gladys held the bank bag up and said “First National! I met the nicest teller there. Hey why don’t you go with me?” Omar’s eyes narrowed and he coughed “oh, no your boss would not like that. I must get back to the shop. I will see you later.” He turned and left without another word. Gladys stood looking out the front window as he drove off.

She did not see Omar for several weeks after this exchange. She wanted to call him and ask if she had done something wrong, if she had angered him. She wanted to call him and tell him she missed their walks and talks. She wanted to speak to him but she was brought up not to call boys or in this case men. She was taught that they were to call you. The truth was she couldn’t call him, because she didn’t have his phone number. She didn’t have a clue where he lived and the girls at the salon always said he was out when she just happened to be in the neighborhood. She was crushed, heartbroken, forlorn and in emotional angst.

She stood in line at the bank waiting for Eunice to finish with the man with the turned up cowboy boots. She stood there trying to sort out what had happened, what she might have said or done. “Gladys get on over here! Where is your mind” Eunice asked. Gladys looked up to see that she was the next and only person in line. She realized she had tears running down her face when she got to the window. “Hun, you okay? You need a tissue or something” Eunice looked through the bars reaching through the tray to pat Gladys on the hand. “I’m fine. Just trying to figure out something that’s all” she replied. The woman behind the window quipped “Sugar, it’s a man isn’t it? I can tell. I get off here in an hour, what time do you get off?” Gladys wiped her eyes, blew her nose and squeaked out “I just have to drop off this bag at the store then I’m off.” Eunice zipped up the bag wrote an address on a piece of paper and slid it through the window “hun, this is my address. You come on over to my house. I’ll make up some margaritas and you can tell me all about it. Now go powder your nose, fluff up your hair and put on some lipstick. You’ll be better in no time.”

Gladys took the paper and smiled at her friend “Okay. I’ll stop and get a bucket of chicken and some ice cream too.” She left the bank feeling a little better. Maybe Eunice could tell her what she had done wrong.

Lawrence of Suburbia - Part III The Set Up

I started printing this story a couple of weeks ago.  This is the third installment.  The first can be found here and the second here.   Like I said before this is like an old time serial you would see at the movies.  I hope it leaves you wondering "what is going to happen next?"  Will King of the Texas Rangers save the beautiful girl?  Will Shera rescue the safari from the tiger?  Will Tarzan swing from the trees and loose his loin cloth?  Come back next week and you might find out.

Part III- The Set-UP


Months went on and Omar and Gladys became fast friends. He would take her shopping or to the movies. He would call her and ask if she would like to go with him to run his dog. Gladys would happily accept. She loved the big goofy Irish Setter Omar loaded into his Range Rover and brought with him when he picked up Gladys. They would venture out on cool autumn Sunday mornings with a wicker basket and a wool blanket to spread while Hawkeye, the dog, would run and chase birds and splash in the waters of the river.  Hawkeye smelled special.  Gladys believed he must have been bathed every day in Omar's special strawberry and shampoo.  What Gladys would give to have hair just like Hawkeye.

Omar would regal Gladys with stories of how he came to be so successful in his salon. “Little one, it is all about letting the hair be itself. You should never force it to do what it does not do naturally. You cut, you coax a bit and then you are done. Hair is much like the woman, it wants to be made love to not force into complying. Otherwise you end up with what did you call it? The tidy bowl hair.” Gladys enjoyed her Sunday mornings with Omar and Hawkeye. She enjoyed the exotic cheeses and the Champagne he poured into the real crystal champagne flutes he had packed into the basket. Gladys felt as exotic and special as the kumquats that were wrapped individually in tissue paper.

Omar was ever the gentleman always keeping his space but always being just close enough. He always spoke in a semi-whisper in order to force you to really listen to what he was saying. He always praised and spoke lovingly to Gladys. He never failed to tell her how beautiful she was or how she looked lovely in that shade of green. He would open her car door and always gave her a hand to help her up or down. He was in Gladys’ mind a perfect gentleman.

One Sunday as they were sipping champagne and eating chocolate dipped strawberries Omar leaned close and whispered in her ear “Little One, I have a favor to ask of you.” Gladys blushed thinking this was it. He wanted to teach her the ways of love. She wasn’t ready. She knew nothing of being physical with a man. Oh she had her share of make-out sessions but to be truly intimate with another human being scared the living daylights out of her. The hair on the back of her neck stood up, her breath came fast and she blushed deeply “um, I, um…” Omar looked into her eyes and then smiled and let out a deep belly laugh “oh, no! No, no, no you are much too young for that Little One. No that is not what I am requesting. No that would be much too big a favor.” Gladys sighed in relief and tried to take a deep breath to clear away her flush “what is it?” Omar traced a finger up her arm causing her once again to blush and her heart to skip a beat “you are going home to your parents next weekend?” Gladys nodded her head and he continued “would you deliver a package to a colleague of mine while you are there?” Gladys a little disappointed tilted her head to one side “a package to a friend?” Omar smiled “yes, to Filipe. Do you know of him? He has a salon there and would like to try some of my special shampoo.”

Gladys was relieved it was not another woman nor was it anything bad just shampoo to the most popular stylist in her home town. The salon where she always wanted to have her done but could never afford. Now she was in the inner circle. Felipe would know her she would know him and know that she and Omar were friends. “Of course I’ll do it for you. So do you want me to swing by the salon on my way out of town and pick it up?” Omar patted her on the hand and whispered “no, I don’t want to share my few moments with you. I will meet you here and give it to you before you leave. Let’s say three o’clock in the afternoon on Friday?” Gladys would have met him at three o’clock in the morning if he had asked her. She wanted so badly to please him. She wanted him to approve of her and more. She wanted him to love her like she was falling in love with him.

Lawrence of Suburbia Part II - The Make Over

Remember last week when I posted Lawrence of Suburbia and I told you I would keep going if you asked.  Well you asked.  I apologize I had promised the next installment and then life got in the way.  I am posting the second installment of "Lawrence of Suburbia".  Let me know if you want me to keep going.

Part II the Make-Over


Gladys arrived at the salon eager to be made-over. You see she had never felt pretty enough especially being compared to her beautiful older sister, Matilda. Gladys thought maybe now people wouldn’t compare her to her sister, but Matilda to her. Or at least they wouldn’t say things like “Your Matilda’s little sister? What happened to you?” She went in prepared to hand her Janis Joplin mane over to the master and let someone show her how make-up was supposed to be worn. She prepared by going in bare faced and her hair  natural. Gladys had spent most of her youth hiding behind her hair, make-up and big baggy clothes. It was now time for the ugly duckling to turn into a swan. She gave herself over to who she hoped would be miracle workers.

First Jose, pronounced HO-Say, took Gladys to the chair and he ran his hands through her hair saying “Oh NO! Dis will nevah do! No, No too much red and not enough moisture. Dahling what do you wash your hair in? The toilet bowl?” She endured his criticism and his comments knowing that once his magic was weaved she would be incredible. He swirled the chair around and broke out a contraption that looked like a colander. Then for four hours he pulled strands of hair through the fruit strainer and would emit noises like “tsk, tsk” or “ah, yes”. Finally he had yanked and tugged and processed every single tiny nappy strand of hair on her head. She felt as if she had been scalped and all she could smell was something akin to toilet bowl cleaner. She began to think that Jose might really be the Tidy Bowl man and he had just turned her hair a refreshing toilet bowl blue. He sent her off with the shampoo girl who then put her under a dryer that was set to 5000 degrees and left Gladys there for several more hours. Shampoo-girl came back checked to see if she was done and then called to Jose. He came sniffed his sniff of approval and sent her to the shampoo bowl.

The shampoo girl smiled and sprayed Gladys' head with boiling water then applied a healthy dose of shampoo. It smelled like strawberries and cream, it smelled good enough to eat. “What kind of shampoo is that?” Gladys asked as her stomach growled. Shampoo girl smiled and said “This is a special mixture that Omar makes himself. He only uses it on his most special clients.” She breathed deep the sweet aroma of strawberries, cream and special. Gladys had never known that smell before, that smell of being special. Shampoo Girl finished it all off with a head and neck massage. She had never been to a salon where they did this and it was heaven. Special…she really liked the sound of this. Now she knew this is how movie stars and beautiful people were treated.

Shampoo girl ushered Gladys to another chair in the salon. This one was in a little room with pictures of beautiful women over the years. She sat waiting for her next treatment, hair wrapped in a towel, imagining that she too one day could be as beautiful as those women. A woman dressed in a gold satin jumpsuit came in and smiled “my name is Aurora; I am going to apply your make-up”. She turned a light on over head and took a magnifying glass and examined her face. Oh no, she is going to tell me my pores are too big or my skin is too sallow and send me out of here Gladys just knew she wouldn’t pass the test. Instead Aurora smiled and said “my what a lovely complexion you have”. Gladys breathed a sigh of relief and said “thank you I just wash it with soap and water.” Aurora began her speech on moisturizing and using a make-up remover that didn’t leave a residue. She continued to lecture about taking make-up off every night before going to bed. Gladys laughed. Evidently she did not understand living in a dorm that shut and locked the doors at 10 p.m. Aurora didn’t comprehend getting off from working a second job until 2 a.m. She didn’t understand that Gladys spent most nights sleeping in her car in the parking lot and not in her bed. Gladys nodded yes and took a vow to scrub and pat. Gladys would have agreed to smearing dog poop on her face, she just wanted to be liked. She finished and then spun the chair so Gladys could look in the mirror. Wow! Who was this person? Although she wasn’t quite movie-starrish she wasn’t too bad to look at.

Finally it was time to move on to the rest of her make-over. She sat in the chair and wondered what was next. Then she heard the familiar husky voice of Omar. “Hello, my little lovely” he crooned into her ear as he took the towel from her head. “Hi Omar!” Gladys chirped. He combed the tangles from her wet hair and pulled her locks out straight. He took his shears and in a move that would have made Edward Scissorhands pea green with envy he went to work on her unruly mane. She saw hair dropping and tried not to cry. Gladys had visions of having a bowl cut or worse, a pixie. She held her breath while he snipped away. She hoped and prayed that he would make her look beautiful and not like a dog inflicted with the mange. He then poured something into his hands and applied it to her hair. Again she smelled the familiar scent of strawberries and cream. It was the smell that she would forever relate to being special. Then with the skill of a master craftsman he wielded blow-dryer and brush and tamed her brillo-pad mane. He brushed some hair from her shoulder bent over and handed her a mirror then announced “you, my dear, are even more beautiful than before.” He spun the chair around and you know what? In just that moment, in just that instance, she did not feel like the little girl who was found under a rock. She felt like someone special. She felt beautiful. She gazed into what had to be a magic mirror and saw a really pretty girl. She saw someone who was not the knocked knee, geeky, loser girl who was always chosen last and forever compared to her beautiful older sister. She felt special.

Omar adjusted the strands of her frosted, cropped and feathered hair and said “now baby girl go see Frieda in the boutique. She has something for you.” Gladys was astonished at the magic these three people had performed. Who said you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear? “Oh no Omar” she cried “You’ve done much too much already.” He smiled an endearing smile and said “Oh no my little one you don’t understand. This is as much for me as it is for you. I would very much like to photograph you for my brochure.” A model? All four foot eleven inches and sixty-eight pounds of her? A model? If Gladys had a tail it would have been wagging. She was floating on a cloud. Was this a dream?

She shyly entered the boutique where she found a tall thin woman with copper penny red hair in a deep purple flowing silky dress. She put held Gladys at arms length and said “Oh, you are tee-tiny. I hope I have something that will fit you. Well if we don’t we will make it fit.” She then floated through the store her silky dress flowing like water around her. Gladys trudged after her in her cowboy boots and holey jeans, feeling like a plow-hand instead of a “model”. Then Frieda emitted a melodious purr and she said “this will be perfect for you.” She held in her hands a beautiful length of fabric. Gladys squealed with delight and rushed to touch it. Frieda sized it up and said “this will work beautifully!”

Gladys started into the dressing room and Frieda followed her. Gladys stopped thinking maybe she wasn’t suppose to try the dress on but Frieda urged her forward. Frieda grabbed her little protégé’ and began removing clothes until she got down to her undergarments “No, No my little one” she chided “these will never ever do.” She glided out of the cubicle and returned in a few minutes with beautiful lacey under-things that made Gladys’ J.C. Penny brand look like flour sacks. Frieda dressed her and made the necessary adjustments putting pins here and tucking fabric there. She turned her from side to side and when it all met with her approval she sent Gladys out to look in the mirror.

The dress fit like a glove and her hair and make-up were perfect. Gladys began to cry. She cried because she had never looked at herself and thought the word beautiful. She cried because she was afraid she would never look like that again and she cried because she didn’t want that feeling of special to go away. Frieda rushed to her and said “little one you must stop crying. You will ruin your make-up.” Gladys sniffed and dried her eyes. She looked at Frieda and was overcome with gratitude.

Omar set up his lights and used the décor of the boutique as his backdrop. He took picture after picture. He murmured words of encouragement all the while snapping pose after pose. Gladys felt it was a dream. He finished the photo shoot and she hugged him in gratitude. She hugged all of her miracle workers.

Then all too soon her day was over. She floated out of the salon and back into Gladys’ real world. She went to work that evening feeling more special than she had ever felt.

to be continued.....

Lawrence Of Suburbia

I am going to post this story in several installments.  Kind of like the old serials that you would see at the picture show on Saturday morning.  King of the Texas Rangers or Shera Queen of the Jungle.  I will start with this one and if you want more let me know.  Now without further ado.

Part I The Meeting


Gladys was only 17 when she left home and went off to college. Not only was she very naive but was also very gullible. She went off to live in the dorm from hell and had to work to support herself and her college aspirations. Gladys worked as many jobs as she could. One of her jobs was working for a department store in the men’s department.

One day as she was shelving men’s bikini underwear and hanging nylon socks on the rack she heard a man say “my you have interesting hair.” Gladys looked up to see a tall good looking man. He was very exotic with a dark complexion and dark hair and eyes.  She smiled and said “thank you”. You see Gladys rarely got complemented on her hair. It was a cross between Roseanne Roseannadanna and Farrah Fawcette. Those of you who are too young to know who either of those people are well; bless your young little hearts. She smiled up at the handsome stranger and asked “may I help you find something?” Mr. Omar Sharif look-a-like smiled down at me and very suavely said “yes, I think you can.”

That was it. That was all it took to make young Gladys swoon. She quickly left behind her busy work and helped Omar find whatever his heart desired. They made the usual small talk as Gladys showed him the rayon and polyester shirts and the Angle Flight Leisure Suits.  He told her owned a very posh salon close to the store. He gave her his card and told her to come see him. He explained he had some product that would be perfect for “her type of hair”. Gladys tucked his card away in her sales book, rang up his purchase and sorrowfully bid him goodbye.

She didn’t think about him again. One day as she walked into the store to start her shift she spotted him back at the Customer Service counter. Her heart skipped a beat. Her stomach suddenly had a flock of butterflies swarming around and she found a smile on her face. He turned just as she approached and smiled that all too charming smile. He walked over and took her hands in his and said “there you are. I’ve been looking for you. Why have you not come to see me?” She blushed and stammered out some inane reply like “you, what, um, uhuh.”  He smiled and leaned in close and asked “what time is your dinner break?” She sucked in air and tried to unswallow her tongue while trying to think of something just as suave to reply.  Instead all that came out was “I don’t get a dinner break”  she sputtered on “but, I do get off at 10.” Omar smiled and whispered “perfect! I’ll wait for you then.” Uh? What was he talking about? Gladys squeaked out “umhuh, I guess that would be okay.” Then he squeezed her hands and was gone.

She was a nervous wreck the rest of the evening. She was distracted and went to talk to Lillith the shoe girl, who was older and wiser. Lil smiled and told her just to go with the flow. What the heck, maybe she would even get a free dinner out of it. Gladys agreed that would be nice but still she didn’t know this guy from Adam. Lillith told her to agree to go to dinner but drive her own vehicle. That sounded reasonable so that was what Gladys was determined to do.

Gladys finished cleaning up her station and made sure the racks were straight. She fluffed her hair and reapplied another layer of mascara, spritzed on some Charlie and headed out the door. There in the parking lot sat a bright red Ferrari with Omar standing waiting. He smiled and said “Get in I’ll take you to dinner.”Her little heart did the hustle and her seventeen year old mind ran amuck. It could have been that  she was just so desperate for attention that she thought going out with a complete stranger was a good decision or maybe she was just plain stupid, but Gladys threw all caution to the wind and let him tuck her in his Italian sports car. The engines purred and off they sped down the road. It was late August and the night was brightly lit with moon and stars. Omar turned to Gladys and said “I thought I would take you to the Factory for a late supper.”

The fact that this was a small college in a small town made the location and the vehicle in which they would arrive terribly impressive to Gladys.  Most everything in that town closed up at 9 p.m. and there were only a few really fancy places to dine. The Factory was both of those things. The town in which they were dinning was  in a ‘dry’ county, meaning no alcohol could be served unless it was a private club. All of these variables put Gladys in a very vulnerable position.
They were seated at a table and given the wine menu. She looked at Omar and said “I can’t order wine.” He cocked his head to one side smiled and said “Why of course you can. You just find something you like”  Gladys turned pink and bit her bottom lip then said “No, I’m not OLD enough to drink.” His jaw dropped and he sucked all the air out of the room at once. He swallowed hard looked over both shoulders then leaned across the table and whispered “how OLD ARE you?” Gladys looked down at her hands and then up through her eyelashes at him and said “Seventeen, but I’ll be eighteen in a couple of weeks.” Omar sighed and leaned back in his chair. The waiter arrived to take their order. She was off the hook for a couple of minutes and was desperately trying to think of something to say that would not make her look foolish or childish to. Omar placed the order and ushered him away. He smiled leaned across the table and took her hand  “How old do you think I am?”  She was relieved that he wasn’t angry and anxiously replied “I don’t know? Twenty-eight?” His eyes sparkled and the corner of his mouth rose. “No little one. I am 38.” He waited for that to sink in and then continued “I never thought to ask how old you were. I was just so attracted to your sunny personality that I could think of nothing but spending time with you. Now I will have to wait until you are old enough. Until then we can spend time getting to know one another.”

Now it was her turn to swallow hard. Thirty-eight! Oh my GAWD he was ancient. Gladys smiled  “Well everyone needs friends.” She looked up to see their exotic and delectable meal being served.  The two chatted through the meal and he laughed at her jokes and stories. She learned he was of middle-eastern decent and he had an Irish Setter. He invited her to have a complete make-over free of charge at his salon. Gladys was elated and excited. She was convinced this was going to be just like Captain Renault said to Rick in Casablanca “the beginning of a beautiful friendship”. Oh sweet innocence.