Harry in Wonderland

Parked in front of Ginette's triplex, locked in a smoochy embrace, Harry's subconscious DJ played a tune: 

She's giving me excitations.
Good good good, good vibrations

Ginette was getting her own soundtrack.

It was a stroke of fleeting fortune that the faux producers took Finkie's car for the night. how would he ever have explained the LA movie producer of a Steve Martin project driving an eight year old Dodge Dart?  There would be another script to write for Ginette, but all Harry knew was that their faces were melting into one and that moment, eternal.

But not eternal enough. Doomed, this love, this true love was doomed. Revel in this borrowed time, this delicious girl, because the reality of reality kept on interrupting.

If he took her out again, he'd have to show up in a rented car. How long was he in town for? Where was he staying? When was he coming back?

Lies, lies, lies. How Harry hated to lie. How he hated Finkie's retarded plan. How he hated himself for going along with Finkie's retarded plan, for being such a fool.

"Kiss me again, you fool," Ginette purred.

"A mind reader," he thought. Might as well plant an idea."Blow job."

Ginette pulled herself away from their sloppy lip-lock. Head south baby.

"I have to go now, 'Arry. Tonight you can't come up, my sister is sleeping over." 

Which was okay, but not okay with Harry. Too much stimulation, racing thoughts out of control. Head about to explode; everything about to explode.

Harry groaned, but not out of lust. Swept away by life with no brakes. Out of his cocooned basement existence - ecstatic and terrified. Too much to handle for a guy who preferred to have his excitement dished out vicariously.

"Are you okay?" Ginette asked.

"Yeah, I'm great, everything's great."

"How long are you in town?"

Good question. Harry hadn't a clue. A longish pause.

"......?"

"Not sure, until I find all the locations?" Whatever that meant.

Ginette plucked a pen from her purse and scribbled her phone number on of a scrap of paper.

"Call me tomorrow." She kissed Harry again and got out of the car. 

To see her again -- euphoric. To perpetuate this ridiculous lie -- moronic. Hurray turned oy vey. Harry was drained, vibed out, madly in love. He had to get home to the womb of his basement, to crash into his bed, to tumble into a dream-world of Ginette.

And dream of her he did. Devouring her, bodies entwined, swirling round and round down an Alice in Wonderland tunnel, sliding out the other end on the door step of...Finkie. Fucking Finkie? Finkie go away, disappear, vanish from the dream. Knock it off.

But the knocking at his window wasn't a dream.

Harry woke up abruptly drenched in a cold sweat. Finkie was pounding at the window.

"Harry, open the window. Let me in."

" ?" 

Harry opened the window, then looked at his clock-radio. 3:47 AM. They left the club a little before 2 AM, so what was Finkie doing crawling through his window less than two hours later?

Finkie, an experienced wriggler, a deft crawler, born with the belly of a snake, wiggled through the window and slithered onto Harry's bed.

"I'd actually prefer if you sat in the chair."

"That's the first thing you ask me?"

"Exactly. Now comes the second thing. What the fuck happened?"

"Totally fucked up situation, Harry."

Where had he heard that before?

"The hat should've tipped me off. What chicks wear hats these days?"

"Nudists who take macrobiotic cooking classes," Harry said.

"So I thought. A hat is like an anklet, sign of the harlot. Should've taken her to a motel. So we get to her place and she tells me we have to be super quiet because she's living with her sister. Fine, who wants to talk to some flake in a hat anyways? Anyhow, she leads me to this bed in the hall near the kitchen, which is where she sleeps, she doesn't even have a room. She's like homeless in her own apartment."

Harry started cracking up.

"I never got her name." Harry said.

"Celeste. Fruit-cake name to go with the hat. Anyhow, we're making out on the bed, then I'm taking off my pants..."

"Why do you always whip off your pants so fast, Finkie? It fucking freaks them out."

"I thought it would be okay this time, 'cause she's a nudist...I pull up her dress -- she's not wearing any panties, it was like this big brown poodle under there...Stop laughing for a second, I know it's funny..."

But Harry couldn't control himself. Being friends with Finkie was about the stories, vicarious excitement served up on a silver platter.

"So we're fooling around, but the bed's creaking. All of the sudden, her sister storms out of her room down the hall and starts screaming in French while I'm frantically putting back on my pants. 'Celeste you whore! Every night a different guy! Get this scumbag out here!' Then the sister's two little kids come out of their rooms. Celeste gets pissed at me and tells me to leave right way, but then I realize you drove my car home and I don't have a penny on me. How am I going to get home? I ask her if I can borrow twenty bucks for a cab and then she starts yelling at me to get out...like I really am some scumbag. Then I ask if I can use their phone to call you to come pick me up, but now they're both yelling at me to get out. I barely made it out with my pants on...I barely made it out alive."

Harry buckled over in laughter.

"So what did you do? Hitch-hike home?"

"Right, like I'm going to hitch from that neighborhood. So luckily I see a cab, flag it down and tell him to bring me here, so I can pick up my car..."

Harry picked up Finkie's keys from the night table and tossed them to him.

"One more thing, Harry. The cab is waiting in front of your place to get paid. Can you lend me  twenty bucks?"