Darrell Vickers – Chapter Twenty – Don’t Forget to Shake That Before You Pour It and The Epilogue

The torpid morning sun had finally come cresting over the garbage-filled Atlantic and the “day of destiny” was upon us.  Carla brought me breakfast in bed.  The girls all rushed out of the room while I was attempting to cut through my egg.  At least the coffee was somewhat drinkable.  I thought they’d run off to lick each other senseless in another room, but I was wrong.  And pleasantly so.  Man, how often does that happen?  Everyone had gotten up early and decorated the foyer within an inch of its life.  As I descended the grand staircase like the price of Facebook stock, they were all standing in line, staring up at me.  I was kind of touched, in a lord-of-the-manor sort of way.  Even my therapist was in attendance.  Behind the adoring and adorable throng, there was a big sign that read, “Happy Bonus Day!!!”

Darrell Vickers – Chapter Nineteen Right Knee…Left Knee…or Wienie?

Now that things were going so well with Ms. Princeton, I felt a little awkward about bending my indoor gardener over the furniture.  Especially, since I no longer had any indoor plants.  I mean, suppose Alchemy and I fell in love in Fiji.  It could happen.  One night after champagne-soaked beach sex, betrothals occurred.  Then what?  If we ended up getting married, indoor gardeners would have to be a thing of the past.  Marriage is like that.

Darrell Vickers – FtN Chapter Eighteen – As Sure As Today Follows Tomorrow

For everyone else in the office, their lives continued to skip through fields of magical daisies.  But not mine.  It is only through a cataclysmic event that you get to experience how truly alone we all are in the universe.  And I don’t mean alone as a person.  It could be a group or a town or perhaps even a country.

Darrell Vickers – FTN Chapter Seventeen Glerm!

Much to the disappointment of my ladies, it was just about quittin’ time in the city.  I had lots to think about.  Well, I had Alchemy to think about but I was going to think about her a lot.  And…I had to do it without my nightly booze-bath.  That was not going to be easy or fun.  But nothing good in this life is ever easy or fun.  I guess most bad things in this life aren’t easy or fun either.  Anyway, back to my point.  Alchemy was worth it.  My Courvoisier swigging lips were sealed.

Darrell Vickers – Chapter Sixteen If You Don’t Like This Nose, You Can Stick It Up Your Ass

Meanwhile Izzy and Rebecca were in Bergdorf Goodman, spending it to the ground.  The entire morning had been a ferocious but fashionable maelstrom of wanton consumerism and torrid homoerotic girlie-groping in and around NY’s toniest boutiques.  Snotty sales clerks gaped and gasped in commission-reckoning amazement as these two sizzling sartorial style-junkies swiped my credit card to the point of it setting it ablaze.  Dior!  Stella McCartney!  Galliano!  Zac Posen!  They grabbed as much cloth-with-a-foreign-name-stitched-on-it as their arms could hold and carted it away to small rooms with poorly measured curtains.  And no accent or accessory was spared.  Izzy was rounding up a large herd of Balenciaga clutch purses when something caught her eye.  She turned to Rebecca and whispered, “Am I crazy, or is that Angela Cartwright and some street bum over there buying up the other half of the store?”

“Who?” asked Rebecca.  Prostitutes don’t get a lot of time to watch late night reruns.

Darrell Vickers – Chapter Fifteen: We’re Here. We’re Here. You Lucky, Lucky People

I’d been doing a little shopping myself.  After lunch, Alchemy walked into her office to find a ‘50s-style leather jacket and motorcycle cap hanging on an antique coat rack.  Next to her phone, I placed the evilest pair of sunglasses I could find.  And in her chair, I put a big poster of Marlon Brando from The Wild One.  Except, I cut out a picture of Alchemy’s face and pasted it over Marlon’s.

When I have a woman in my sights, there are no half steps.

Darrell Vickers – Chapter Fourteen: Ten Pounds of Shit in a Five Pound Bag

Back in the grandest suite that the Four Season’s Hotel has to offer, Angela Cartwright stared at the check while sipping champagne from a long-stem crystal flute.  When that ran out, there was another entire bottle of Dom very-good-year Perignon in the ice-bucket beside her.  This was the kind of establishment that charged north of 25 bucks a mug for room-service coffee in the morning.  This suite was so expensive, if you had a naked Keira Knightly’s open mouth next to the complimentary snack cupboard, it still wouldn’t be worth it.  Punjab certainly knew what it took to impress someone of her stature.  And he wasn’t only impressing her!  Punji was also delighting her famous co-star who was hearing all about it on the other end of a faux daffodil phone.  Only her side of the conversation was interesting, so I’ll spare you Mr. Mumy’s contributions.

Darrell Vickers – FtN – Chapter Thirteen

Gedornk!

The night was warm and still and the sky was a Christmas tree of lights.  Polo and Artie were leaning against the limo and indulging in that age-old nighttime-under-the-stars activity, contemplating existence.  It’s not hard to feel small or lost or reflective when gazing up into the randomness and infinity of space and time.  I did it in college, once.  I lay in the grass, stoned on peyote, but the stars all kind of mushed together into a big drippy, lightie blob.  It wasn’t nearly as attractive or profound as I had hoped.  And then some asshole ran over my chest with his bike.  Fuck, that hurt.

Darrell Vickers – Chapter Twelve: Watch Out For This Asshole

The next day, the ennui had returned.  That is, if I had ennui.  I can’t remember exactly what it is.  It sounds French and I know that Lou Reed wrote a song about it on the “Sally Can’t Dance” album and it was a pretty sad song so it’s got to have something to do with being bummed out, right?  Anyway, if I wasn’t ennuied, I was definitely bummed out.  Artie had been at my Sugar Smacks again and I had to have Carla’s waffles for breakfast.  But that wasn’t really why I was feeling so bummed.  That’s why I was feeling so nauseous.  No, this bummedoutedness (that’s got to be a word – especially in this day and age) was because I was feeling lost.

Darrell Vickers – Chapter Eleven You Better Bite the Head Off That So It Doesn’t Follow You Home

I don’t know what was wrong with me.  No matter how great things were getting, no matter how my garden of good fortune kept sprouting new blossoms, I just couldn’t stop thinking about “you know who”.  I mean, we spent some time together in the common room and we’d had a drink but it’s not like we were best buddies.  If you get right down to it, she wasn’t even my type.  Sure, she was beat-your-knob-with-a-claw-hammer beautiful and smelled like springtime in the mountains, but Alchemy was a little too driven for my taste.  There wasn’t a lot of “sit back with a Bud and put your feet up” in that girl.  Harvey had started posting a Salesman-of-the-Month plaque in the lobby.  Her iridescent face had been on that thing ever since it was put up.  I was making a South-American-Dictator fortune; I can’t even imagine how much Alchemy must have been pulling down.  All I know is, she wasn’t pulling anything else down.  Tut tut.  There I go, thinking about sex again.