12 March 2008

From the files of Baron and Bartleby

So this was when I was working at Baron and Bartleby. I was an actuarial analyst. I had the cherry red Porsche 911 Carrera 3.2 convertible and the chalk pinstripe Hickey Freeman 42L. I was a cartoon character. Jackson Browne was loading out on a beige cassette in the tape deck and there was a blonde in the passenger seat with legs like a tarantula.

She didn't really get in the car so much as she poured in. Top speed: 158 mph. 0-60 in 5.7 seconds. Sounds about right. For the 1988 model year, an exclusive run of Carreras were made with special diamond blue metallic paint to commemorate 25 years of production of the 911. By coincidence it also marked the production on June 3rd, 1987 of the 250,000th Porsche 911.

The interiors were finished in space blue metallic crushed leather with 'F. Porsche' signatures on the headrests of the two front seats. Smooth silk velour and deep pile carpet completed the luxurious interior of these Anniversary models, and the short gear lever first seen on the Club Sport was used.

The cars carried no model designation on the engine lid and the Fuchs wheel centers were painted in matching body colour. But that all doesn't matter because I had the cherry red one from the year before.

I wrote in my journal I'm getting tired of the steak tartare scene at the 21 Club but I love the way she plays with her Akoya pearls. She's running them over and across her lips and clicking them against her teeth and its driving me insane.

Me, the actuarial analyst, and the closing bell corporate raiders with their Bluestar stock tips and their salmon Izods.

We met in the bathroom and made love against the oak stall doors. The attendant pretended not to hear or see and handed me a mint when I left and I handed him a fifty.

We jumped in the Carrera and drove to a diner on Kings Highway to get milkshakes and disco fries. That world wasn't ours. She sat on my lap and I fed her onion rings. WNEW was blasting Talking Heads. "This ain't no mud club, or CBGB... I ain't got time for that now!!!" We always felt better when the crowded cobblestones of Maiden and Broad were in our rearview.

We were Bad Brains and Minor Threat. They were The Eagles and Bruce Hornsby. We made love again when we got home and I made her keep her Doc Martens on. White laces. She used to be a skinhead. Now she was a big shot at Forex.

I just loved the way her hands clutched the sheets. Like a bouquet of cotton. A fistful of linen.

Just me and the girl with the tarantula legs.