CHAPTER ELEVEN

“There’s gonna be a fight tonight…” whispers, Xavier, not really to me, more to himself. Almost convincing himself, almost encouraging himself.

I shoot a surprised glance towards him. His brows, frighteningly, dig deep into his eyes. They scan the crowd of boisterous, midnight revelers. 30 somethings reverting to old glory days thanks to even more alcohol.

The sisters from Van Nuys, who’ve quickly achieved dangerous levels of alcohol consumption, are dancing around to the inaudible music squeaking it’s way from inside the house to this unassuming backyard of Northridge. Scantilly clad, as always, looking like covers to magazines. Dancing, eyes shut tight, maybe an excuse not to remember the next day, or perhaps, the next minute. Several boys from around the Valley, standing here and there, whose first names I can’t even remeber, cheering on the three party girls, clenched hands around plastic cups filled with the mixture of whiskey, cola, and melted ice, their loud mouths requesting more reckless abandonment“Take it off!”, “Kiss ‘er!”, “I’m gonna put this on the internet!” They say. The other girls at the party, the ones I’ve never met before, probably friends of friends who are co-workers of co-workers of co-workers, look on, over their shoulders, envious of the dionysian dancing. Or maybe, more accurately, dissappointed. Oliver and the rest of The Player Haters, off to the side, where the porch light can’t reach them, are passing a joint, all except, Jack of course who doesn’t do anything like that, are talking about cartoons, about comic books, about kung fu, and every so often, about marriage.

 Bob reaches over to grab the joint from, Rick who is barely done with his toke. As, Bob is about to put the doobie to his lip, he can be seen asking for the cigarette, Rick has propped up in the sleeve between his right ear and skull.

All of this, the sisters from Van Nuys, the cheering squad of boys, the out of place girls, and the Player Haters Guild are reflected as a painting on the shimmering waters of the swimming pool in the middle of this Northridge backyard. The full moon, resting on twin silver clouds, enhance the magic of the picture. Creating one of those moments in life that only a single solitary individual can appreciate because he, and he alone, has been blessed enough with the right positioning, lack of invovlment in doing anything except watching, and the genetic disposition of unabridged appreciation for beauty.

Damn, dude. I am really drunk right now.

“Yo, Bob!” yells, Xavier from across the pool. He breaks into a big smile. Almost evil. Well, not evil. He’s not evil. So it can’t be evil. I guess you can say, mischevious. But in a not so evil way. Not like a goblin mischevious. More like a drunk human who wants to start a fight.

“Yo, Bob!” he yells louder, loud enough to practically stop the party. “If you wanted another cigarette, why didn’t you just ask me? I got four left. And two of them are for you! You silly goose! You silly, silly, goose. You unemployed, uneducated, un-cigaretted, silly goose.”

Bob looks up with an angry face. Not one to tolerate direct insults, especially in public places, he notices a drunk, wobbly, Xavier. Bob rolls his eyes and shakes his head. Then he tightly clenches his fists, because everyone is waiting to see what he will do. His reputation and honor dictate he do something savage, but his loyalty is keeping him from doing it.

Things are pretty simple for, Bob. Along with “Bitches, beer, and video-games”, he also has a rule about “kicking fools asses.”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Xavier?” says, Bob. “you’re drunk.”

“That I am, my friend.” Xavier says slowly walking towards, Bob. He takes a sip of his plastic cup and then tosses into the swimming pool. “And you are, too. This creates the possibilty of a unwarranted battle between two old, dear, friends who are no longer dear friends.”

“I don’t think you want to do this, Xavier.” says, Bob whose massive presence makes a little more room in front of him. Big guy he is. Deceptively quick and agile though. I’ve seen him drop three guys in less than a second.

“Hey guys, chill.” Jack says. “This is, Oliver’s party, man.”

“Oh I’m chill, bro.” says, Xavier. “I’m just offering my new best friend another cigarette before he asks me later. Call it time management. If he has three spare cigarettes, that means he won’t ask me for one within the next ten minutes.”

“Time management?” says, Bob taking one step towards, Xavier. “I thought you were just being a dick.”

They’re just burning each other with pent-up glares. Years of resentment bubbling up into the necessary muscles. Fists clench and unclench preparing properly.

“Someone like me, huh.” says, Xavier about ten feet away from, Bob. “And what exaclty is that?”

“Hey!” screams, Daisy walking through the patio doors. “What the hell is going on here?”

Oliver quickly walks over to, Daisy and begins to whisper reassurances into her ear. Her face falls into a combination of anger and frustration. He holds her hand, almost glad to be out of the crossfire.

Both of these guys, Bob and, Xavier, have gotten into their fair share of fist fights. You wouldn’t really expect less with the mouths these guys have on them. And everyone knows what kinds of temper both of them have. At first glance, you would think they were two of a kind. Then at second glance, you’d notice how different they really were from each other.

I guess that’s why this night was bound to happen. Kind of like two apex predators finding themselves in the same territory.

“Yo guys, chill.” says, Jack. “This is fucking stupid!”

“That’s obvious.” retorts, Xavier a good five feet away from, Bob. “But I feel like acting stupid right now. It’s been a while.”

“Dude, man,” says, Bob. “I don’t want a cigarette from you. Don’t worry about it. I’ll never ask your stingy ass for anything again.”

“I doubt that, bro.” says, Xavier, arriving right in front of, Bob’s face. “You still don’t have a job and still live with your mother. I don’t see anything changing for you anytime soon.”

Damn. Xavier is really trying to get to him. Why, I think to myself. Other than being his regular asshole self, Bob didn’t do anything. Is, Xavier really angry over a cigarette? He doesn’t make sense sometimes.

“Here, Bob.” says, Xavier, standing right in front of, Bob, taking out a single cigarette from his box and raising it up to, Bob’s lips, butt first. “Here you go.”

“Get that fucking cigarette outta my face, Xavier.” Bob says boiling. “I’m starting to get angry.”

“Well you know,” says, Xavier dangling the cigarette in front of, Bob’s face. “Cigarettes help me calm down. Take this. Then we can talk about working on your resume.”

The cigarette, Xavier holds almost touches, Bob’s lip.

“Dude, Xavier. Take that shit out of my face.” says, Bob. Very still. Very angry. Very scary.

“Why?” asks, Xavier, almost honestly. “I’m just trying to be your friend.”

I can see, Oliver and, Daisy whispering arguments to each other. Jack trying, fruitlessly to come up with something to stop, Xavier. Rick finishing up the joint that ended becoming his alone. Random faces across the backyard in Northridge, some concerned, some confused, others excited.

“You’re being gay, man.” says, Bob. “Stop being gay.”

“If by gay you mean my overwhelming concern about your choice of lifestyle and my dedication to physically helping you out at this most crucial juncture, then yes. But otherwsie no, i’m not.” declares, Xavier.

“Get it out of my face, Xavier!” Bob, yells raising his fists close to his chest.

“No.” says, Xavier, smiling wickedly. “I’m gonna help you.” He dramtically pauses, wiggling the cigarette. ”…one…last…time…”

And before anyone has a chance to react, Xavier smashes the cigarette on, Bob’s mouth. Tobacco leaves and cigarette paper strewn all over his face. Xavier smiles a laugh.

That’s all, Bob needs.

I can’t even see the punch. What I do see is, Xavier flying through the air, a good three feet up and a clean four feet across. While Xavier is floating in mid-air, Bob a blur, hits him again with his big wrecking ball fist, slamming, Xavier to the ground head first. His body bounces into the swimming pool with a limp splash.

The stunned crowd, after ten seconds of disbelief, explode into cacophonous reactions. “Oh shit!” and “What the fuck?” and “Daaaaaaaaaaaamn!”

Bob leers over the swimming pool where, Xavier slowly sinks to the bottom. “You got something to say now, bitch? What? Huh? What’s that you say? I can’t hear you! You’re underwater, motherfucker! Oh yeah. And you’re unconcious!” And then turns around huffing and puffing.

Random people walk towards, Bob remarking how awesome the combination was. Other people, reeling in a state of shock not only at the speed of the ass whooping, but at the fact that someone is unconcious at the bottom of the swimming pool.

Jack, after realizing, Xavier is probably drowning, jumps into the pool to fish his best friend out. Oliver watches Daisy storm off back into the house and slouches where he stands. Rick, finishing up the joint, walks to the edge of the pool waiting for, Jack to resurface with, Xavier’s spaghetti body. I walk over to, Rick.

“Man. What the fuck just happened?” I ask.

“Bob just knocked, Xavier out.” Rick dryly states. “Do you know how deep this pool is?”

“I think 10 feet.” I reply. “Why?”

Rick sighs. “Because, Jack can’t swim.”

Oh man…

After fishing, Jack and the unconcious, Xavier out of the pool, Rick lays them both side by side on the concrete near the shallow end. Rick is joking around with, Jack a little. Jack smiles and shakes his head in embarrassment, both soaked. I slap, Xavier’s face to try to wake him up. I’ve seen them do it on TV shows. I have no idea if it’ll work. All that happens is, Xavier’s nose bleeds mixing with the chlorinated water.

Oliver comes by with two large beach towels. Hands one to, Jack and the other to me. He looks concerned. He also looks a little pissed.

Xavier’s eyes slowly open. Tries to figure out where he is. His hand grabs the back of his head. And then touches his nose. He winces at the pain. Then snorts the blood back into his nose.

“You alright, Xavier?” asks, Oliver kneeling down.

“I’m cool.” Xavier says, taking the towel from me. “Sorry for fucking up your party.”

Oliver strains a polite smile. “It’s cool. But, uh, Daisy doesn’t want you in the wedding anymore. Sorry, man. Women, ya know.”

“It’s cool. I understand.” Xavier says, grabs, Olivers hand, squeezes it in apology. “I’ll make it up to her.”

“Cool.” Oliver says. “Uh, you gotta go though. She doesn’t want you here, either.”

“Alright. Give me a few minutes, though.” asks, Xavier, letting got of, Oliver’s hand and places it in front of his gushing nostrils.

“Sure. I’ll see you soon, Xavier.” says, Oliver. He gets up, and goes back into the house where, Daisy awaits.

“You’re a dumb ass, Xavier.” says, Jack.

“Thanks for saving my life, Jack.” says, Xavier. “I owe you twelve dollars.”

Jack rolls his eyes.

Xavier is wet, bleeding, huge bump on his head, probably a broken nose, just got knocked out, embarrassed in front of all these people, and kicked out of one of his best friend’s weddings. Yet, he still manages a smile.

I look at him, bewildered. “Why are you smiling?” I ask.

He looks up at me, the black eye already forming, blood trickling through his fingers. “The plan is working.” He says. Smiles. “Ow….”

He laughs a little. “Let’s get back to business.”

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