Prelude to Destruction

What I didn’t know was that Beach Day didn’t actually take place on the beach. –At least, not in Matt’s mind.

He’d picked me up at 11AM sharp, and I hopped into his truck ready for the sun and the waves. However, after about five minutes of driving on Pacific Coast Highway, which lies parallel to the beach, Matt took a left, taking us in the complete opposite direction of the beach.

“Where are you going, Matt?” I asked, confused. “There’s plenty of parking spaces about a mile down PCH,” I added.

He returned my confused expression. “What are you talking about? We’re going to Johnny’s.”

“Johnny’s? Why are we picking up Johnny? I thought this was a date. Besides, doesn’t he live back that way?” I asked, jerking my thumb backward.

“We are on a date, I meant Johnny’s Bar. I thought we could start and end there today. …What are you talking about?”

“Johnny’s Bar?” I yelped. “I thought we were going to the beach.”

Matt laughed, as if I’d just told a hilarious joke. He pulled into the parking lot and put the car in Park before looking at me with amusement. “Of course not. …Beach Day in Huntington means bar-hopping all day, what does it mean where you used live?”

“Exactly what it says!” I cried. “It means going to the beach all day.”

“Oh,” Matt echoed. “Well, sorry about the missunderstanding. I guess you know now. Johnny’s has everything you could want,” Matt said, advertising for his apparent favorite location. “You can get any brand of beer, they’ve got white and red wine, every kind of liquor imaginable, you can ask for margaritas or moquitos, whatever. …And they even serve absynthe under the counter if you ask the right guys,” Matt said, lowering his voice at the end of the sentence, even though the windows were up; it’s not like anyone was going to hear. “And they don’t ask for IDs. But I have mine just in case.”

My jaw dropped. “Uh, Matt, the last and only time I’ve ever had alcohol was at my cousin Harold’s bar mitzvah, and that was part of the ceremony.”

“Are you serious?” He laughed. “Wow, have you been missing out. C’mon, I’ll show you the best time you’ve ever had,” he said, unlocking the doors, moving to get out of the car.

“But I–” I began, but he’d already shut the door and was walking around to help me out of my side. I sighed. I was nervous, but I could tell he was already kind of agitated with me; I think he was before he even picked me up this morning. I didn’t want to push him.

I’ll just drink water or soda or something, I promised myself.

Matt smiled and helped me out of the car. “Did I tell you how wonderful you look today?” he said, kissing me gently. “Damn that school dress code,” he mumbled into my mouth. I smiled into the kiss at the flattery. He sure knew how to calm me down, that was for sure.

I pulled away and blushed. “Thank you, sir. You’re not so bad yourself.” I gave him my best puppy dog look and said quietly, “But don’t you think it’s a little early to start drinking?”

He laughed that booming laugh again. “Rosie, please. I’m 6’1” and 218 pounds of muscle. It takes a lot of alcohol to get me drunk.” He paused and looked at my tiny frame, all 4’10 and 97 pounds of me. “You might want to take it slow though,” he advised. “I’ll make sure you do, alright?”

I warily agreed.

He beamed at me. “That’s my girl,” he said, putting his arm around me and drawing me close, showing every guy in the bar that I belonged to him. “Stay near me at for a little while, okay? Johnny’s is pretty friendly, but you get the occasional creep from time to time,” he explained. “And you’re a very pretty girl. My very pretty girl,” he ammended, kissing my forehead.

However, no sooner had we sat down at the bar did I get my first suspicious stare. “Hey, hey!” the bartender yelled, glaring at me. He turned to Matt and said, “Hey, Matt, I don’t care how young you like them, but don’t bring a kid into my bar, alright? I could get sued!”

“No worries, Ross, she’s twenty-one,” Matt said cooly, arm still around me.

“Oh yeah?” Ross sneered, looking back at me. “When’s your birthday?” he quizzed me.

“January 2nd,” I answered honestly.

Ross gave me a Look. I was getting a lot of those lately. “That’s very nice, but I meant the year you were born, honey.”

“Oh, 1986,” I said, the lie flowing off of my tongue like I said it every day.

Ross sighed and looked back at Matt. “If I find out that you’re lying to me, buddy, you’ll both have a permanent ban from Johnny’s.”

“I’m not lying,” I said, sighing with faux conviction. “It’s just my height. Everyone thinks I’m twelve or something.”

Ross exhaled loudly with frustration. “Alright. What would you like?”

“We’ll split a Bacardi Red,” Matt answered for me.

Ross shrugged, given up, and forfeited the bottle. Matt stood up, grasping the bottle and said, “Let’s play some pool.”

My face split into a wide-open grin. Pool was all geometry, I’d place a big bet on beating him.

“You know how to play?” Matt assumed, seeing my ecstatic expression.

I kissed his cheek and said as a matter of fact-ly, “I’ve been playing pool and poker since I was in the second grade. Prepare to lose, Mr. Sanders,” I warned him, tossing him a cue stick and chalk. I snatched the bottle from him and took a big drink, like I’d been working the bars all my life.

“Whoa-ho-ho!” Matt yelled, beaming at me as if I’d just won first place. “Alright, getting the hang of things, aren’t you, babe?”

I nodded and handed him the bottle. “Now quit stalling. I’m solids, you’re stripes. Now are you going to break?” I asked, setting up the balls at the end of the table.

“Sure,” Matt said, a little surprised, but still enjoying, my new-found attitude.

***

“I cant believe you beat me!” Matt wailed, pounding his fist onto the table in defeat.

“Don’t be such a loser, Mattie,” I said, leaning on him and taking the final swig of alcohol left in the bottle. “Even though you’re still the sober one,” I said, ragging on him as I took the final swig from the Bacardi bottle, “and I’m mildly drunk.”

“Beginner’s luck,” Matt suggested playfully, wrapping me in his arms.

I snorted. “Oh yeah? Seven years of it?”

I felt him grow still, thinking hard. “I let you win!” he lied all to obviously.

Giggling, I turned to face him. “Oh, you so did not, Mr. Sanders. I won, and you lost miserably.” I stood on my tiptoes, and pulled his head down to me so I could say quietly, “but you’re cute when you lose.”

“Yeah?” He leaned in closer to me.

I smiled and kissed him on the lips quickly. “Yeah.”

“You taste good,” he murmured. But then he stood up and sighed. I straightened up too, and looked in his general direction. “Let’s head out; Ross is still studying you, and I’m getting irritated. I really don’t want to be banned.”

“Alright,” I said, taking his hand and following him out of the bar.

We headed to the car and drove to Huntington Beach Beer Company, just a block away, so we could do it all over again. I had a feeling this was going to be a very enjoyable, very long day.