So That (ALMOST) Happened... (w/Tom Carradine)

Tom Carradine’s House
Laguna Beach, CA
Sunday, July 21, 2024

This was uncharted territory for me. Not once in my life had I ever driven to a guy’s house, let alone gone inside. So to follow Tom home from Dave & Buster’s was absolutely mind-boggling. I pulled my red Aston Martin DBS Superleggera into the driveway, letting it idle for a second as I sat there, a death grip on the steering wheel.

Stella: It’s okay… he’s been nothing but a gentleman all day. I highly doubt he’s going to try anything stupid...

But I...

I clenched my teeth, forcing my breath out in a quiet hiss.

Stella: Okay, now you’re just wasting gas.

At that moment, Tom popped his head out from behind the walkway, a curious look in his eyes.

Tom: You coming?

Stella: Yeah, I’m just...

Think fast, girl!

Stella: I’m just making sure I’m not sticking out too far.

Now just let me check my rear view mirror one more time for good measure...

I killed the engine and got out of the car, the keys rattling in my hand as I fumbled with the key fob to lock it up.

Chill the FUCK out!

I finally locked the car and followed Tom up the path to his front door. We paused as he ran a hand over his head, sheepishly smiling as he unlocked it.

Tom: Sorry… I know it’s not exactly a seaside palace.

Oh no… don’t you dare start that princess shit again… Okay, maybe I don’t mind it so much when he does it.

I followed him through the door, immediately floored by the view through the windows that ran the entire length of the western wall, showing the ocean.

Stella: Nice view!

He chuckled, gesturing toward the staircase behind him.

Tom: You should see things from the roof; the buildings don’t get in the way.

I couldn’t help but giggle at that.

Stella: You know what my house doesn’t have?

He looked at me, somewhat confused, but then I caught the glimpse of a sarcastic smirk sneak onto his face.

Tom: I’m gonna guess… you DON’T have a fire-breathing dragon.

I returned his facial expression with a playful eyeroll as I smiled.

Stella: Actually, it’s a rooftop deck. OR an ocean view.

Tom: No shit? And here I thought you practically had the beach in your backyard.

He was really laying the sarcasm on thick; the deepening smirk on his face told me as much. Perhaps he picked up on my nervousness and this was his effort to put me at ease… it was working.

Stella: Nope… I live too far inland for that. It’s Danni and Donovan that have the beachfront pad. My place is just my brother’s childhood home. Granted, it would have been mine as well, had my mother not screwed everything up...

Oh sure… bring HER into the conversation. That’s a surefire way to lure him in… NOT!

I exhaled, my eyes trailing off through the window.

Tom: Eh… her loss, right?

I looked back at him, his eyebrows arched and a somewhat goofy grin on his face like he was trying to elicit a smile out of me. I couldn’t really say anything, so I just nodded my head.

Tom: Hey, how about I grab us a couple of drinks, and then we’ll go up to the deck?

Stella: Sure. What do you have?

Tom: Let’s see…

He opened the refrigerator door. Over his shoulder, I could make out several bottles of beer, a 2-liter of ginger ale, and a case of Body Armor.

Strawberry Banana… my favorite!

I glanced over to the counter next to the fridge, where an espresso machine rested. Oddly enough, it was the same one my brother kept in his office.

Go figure… these two have more in common than they realize.

He popped up and turned around, catching sight of where I’d been looking. Another sheepish grin as he gestured toward the appliance.

Tom: I’d offer to brew some up, but I know how particular you Basches are when it comes to your coffee.

I shook my head, trying but failing to hold in a chuckle.

Stella: Touché… But just out of curiosity, what do you think about Dutch Bros?

Tom: Hmmm… can’t say that I’ve been. I’ve heard good stuff, but there aren’t any nearby, so I haven’t had a chance to go there.

Stella: Well, then I suppose something will have to be done about that.

Tom: You know, I may just have to take you up on that. But anyway, what would you like? I’m afraid I wasn’t expecting company, so the pickings are kinda slim. I’ve got beer, ginger ale, and Strawberry Banana Body Armor.

Stella: All things considered, after all those rounds of Dance Dance Revolution we played at Dave & Buster’s, a Body Armor sounds great!

Tom chuckled, grabbing a couple of bottles from the shelf.

Tom: Good point. I concur.

He moved out of the kitchen, moving toward the stairs. He paused at the foot of the stairs, just long enough to look over his shoulder at me. With a quick tilt of his head, he gestured for me to follow him.

Tom: Right this way…

I followed him up the stairs, then up to the second floor. I caught a glimpse of the balcony looking out over the same ocean view from before, albeit with slightly fewer visual obstructions, through what I could only assume was his bedroom.

Nope… not going there!

He continued up the stairs, and before I could even make it halfway up the second flight of stairs, I could smell the ocean breeze. Stepping out onto the deck, the glow of the deck lights guided me to the glass paneled railing, where Tom leaned against one of the posts, his bottle of Body Armor already cracked open.

Tom: See? I told you it was much better up here without all that crap in the way.

I scanned the horizon, taking in every inch of the view. Off in the distance, the glow from the lights of a passing yacht reflected faintly off the surface of the ocean.

Stella: Wunderschӧn!

Tom turned to me, looking at me like I had just sprouted a fish tail and gills.

Tom: Uh… say what now?

Realizing what had just come out of my mouth, I cringed.

Stella: I said it’s beautiful. Sorry… sometimes, I randomly pop off the odd word in German.

Puzzled, he thought about it for a moment, then chuckled softly.

Tom: And here I thought German was a lot more… aggressive.

I giggled, cracking the lid of my bottle, waiting for the urge to burst into laughter to subside before taking a drink.

Stella: It can be, depending on who’s doing the talking and what’s being said.

Tom: Okay… so I know the German word for “no” is “nein…”

I nodded my head.

Stella: Ja, das ist korrekt. (Yes, that's correct.)

Tom: Okay, now THAT I understood! But… if “nein” means “no,” then what’s the German word for the number 9?

Stella: Neun.

He opened his mouth as if he was going to try and repeat what I’d just said, but then he shook his head.

Tom: You know what? I’m just gonna stop before I accidentally say something stupid. What made you want to learn German, anyway?

Stella: Actually, a couple of things. First off, I’ve got German on my mother’s side, and Austrian on my Dad’s side. So I thought it’d be a good idea to learn the language. It comes in handy when you’re dealing with my brother and his wife.

Tom: Ah, so a cultural thing. Nice. And the other reason?

As soon as he finished his sentence, he looked out over the railing, taking a huge gulp from his bottle.

Stella: Spanish was full.

It was a good thing that the roof over the dining room was directly below us, because otherwise, the resulting cascade of Strawberry Banana Body Armor mixed with saliva would have rained down upon my freshly-detailed Aston Martin.

And the top was down, too.

I snickered, then he joined in. Before long, we both burst into laughter.

Tom: Well, that was embarrassing.

A tiny amount of the oral deluge still lingered just below his bottom lip, so I subtly brought it to his attention. Being quick to take the hint, he licked it away.

Stella: It’s not that bad, Tom. In fact, it’s kinda on me. I’m the one that didn’t notice you just chugged your drink.

Tom: You know, Stella, I…

I cut him off. It was time to shed at least one layer of formality.

Stella: Starr.

He looked at me with confusion in his eyes, then glanced at the night sky before turning back to me.

Tom: Come again?

I shook my head and smiled as I leaned against the railing.

Stella: You can call me Starr. I think we’ve at least progressed to that point.

Tom: Alright, then… Starr…

I don’t even know what triggered it. All I can remember is looking into his eyes as he smiled at me. Instinct simply… took over.

I leaned toward him…he did the same.

Closer…

Closer…

Voice: YO, TOMMY!

Insert record scratch here.

My head dropped as Tom turned around toward the source of the noise; it came from the house directly behind him. A man was standing out on his balcony with a bottle of beer in his hand. Tom shook his head, then turned his attention back to me.

Tom: I’m really sorry about that, Starr. I wasn’t…

Stella: Don’t worry about it, Tom. Anyway, it’s getting late; I should probably head home.

Tom: Yeah… I suppose you’re right.

What started off as just an awkwardness between coworkers had transitioned to a new kind of awkward. Still, there was a part of me that didn’t really want to leave things like that. However, the nosy neighbor kinda killed the mood.

Stella: I’ll text you when I get home, okay?

He nodded, shooting the odd glance over his shoulder at the neighbor.

Tom: Sounds good. Good night, Starr…

Stella: Good night.

I made my way down the stairs, my eyes fixed on the floor as I heard Tom exchange words with his neighbor. What was said, I can’t really remember. All I knew was that I wanted to try that again…

AWAY from annoying, drunken neighbors!