Straight Life (59 page)

We had a terrible conversation. It was useless to pursue it and so I said, "I'll probably get in trouble for this ride and have to leave." She said, "No, I'll get you back." I laid down on the seat again, she pulled into the back of the Clump, and I jumped out of the car and hid. She pulled out of the driveway and looked back at me. She had tears in her eyes. She said, "Goodbye. I'll always love you."

A few people had seen me, but there were some groovy people there, older chicks who liked me, who'd been around. We were real friends. I went down to the club, and a few of these chicks took me downstairs. They asked what had happened, and I told them because I knew I could trust them. I cried. I wasn't crying for her. I was just crying for my life.

I went back into the club and I felt better about everything. I realized that that part of my life was past and, you know, when I was looking at Christine in the car I noticed that she had these panty hose on and they were kind of droopy. She didn't look sexy at all to me. But at that time I realized that I was thinking about sex again. I had had no sexual desire for a long time, since I'd gotten sick. I'd been getting ready to leave Synanon and go get loaded. I'd been thinking, "What's the use of trying for something I don't even want?" But when I started getting these old feelings, life seemed worth living and I didn't want to go out and ruin it by getting loaded and destroying my health.

Little by little it happened. I found myself looking to see who was going to be in my games, and if there was a groovy chick I'd watch to see where she sat so I could look at her during the game. Everybody was passionate because they weren't getting loaded anymore. Everybody was going through the same thing. I'd sit across from a chick; she would pretend that she was crossing her legs; and you know, they do little things so you can see up their dresses or they bend over. I started using these games. I'd talk to the chick and say, "Boy, I'd sure like to suck on your cunt!" Everybody would flip out and call me a dirty, nasty, rotten person, but I knew the girl I was saying it to liked it. Not the other ones. But you could say anything you wanted, and it was exciting, and the games changed for me from being nothing but hate sessions into a sexual trip.

I went to my tribe leader and said, "Man, I'm really getting a reawakening. I've really got eyes to get laid." He said, "How long you been here?" I think it was two, two and a half months. He said, "Well, being as you're an older guy, just start looking around and if you find a chick you have eyes for who has eyes for you, tell me and we'll talk about it. It's gotta be within certain guidelines. You're a newcomer so you can't go with an oldtimer chick, and certain chicks are, like, bad news. We want a chick that's going to be good for you. Look around. See someone you like and let me know, and I'll tell you if it's cool." From that minute I started looking for someone to make love to, and I thought I might even get lucky because a lot of people had found love there.

22

Synanon: Laurie

1969

THERE WAS a girl working in bookkeeping; she was Faye's secretary. She'd been married to a guy in Synanon Industries who I would later work for. Her name was Trudy. She was very neat and very smart, a great secretary. I used to make excuses to go in and see her just to talk to her. She had a little, upturned nose, and she was slender and delicate. She wore glasses. She had light hair, a light complexion, and a beautiful body. Every now and then I'd walk home with her from work and we'd eat together, things like that. I could tell she liked me.

I talked to her one day when we were having lunch together: "Boy, the one thing that's- really a drag here, once you clean up you have a real strong sexual drive and it's such a hassle. You can't see somebody you like and make love. You gotta go through that whole thing." I looked at her and I said, "You really turn me on. I'd sure like to make love to you." She blushed and said, "You would, huh? Well, I feel a strong attraction to you. I'd like to if we could." I told her, "I've talked to Bob and I have permission if the person is acceptable."

I went to Bob. He was in his little office. Each tribe had an office of their own in the club. There were a few people sitting around. I said, "I'd like to talk to you privately." They all walked out of the room, and I closed the door. I said, "Do you remember the conversation we had the other day?" He said, "Yeah. You mean you found somebody already? It's only been two days since we had that talk!" I said, "Well, I've been looking all this time, and there's a chick-she's nice, she's not too young, and I'm sure she's not scatterbrained or crazy or any thing." He said, "Well, I'm all for you having an old lady and going to the guestroom. It might help keep you here. It sure helped me when I was a newcomer. Who is it?" I told him and his face dropped. I was sure he'd bend over backward to get anything going for me, but I found out later it wasn't up to him. He'd get beat up by other people in the games if he didn't follow the guidelines. He said, "Oh, Art, I know Trudy well. She's a very attractive woman, and you two would probably make a nice couple, but I'm sorry. It can't be. The first thing, right off the bat, is that she's been here too long, five years. But the main thing is she's just been divorced and it was a traumatic experience for her. She needs somebody to help her get over him; that's something you don't need. It's too emotional, too involved. The third thing is she's a square. She's never been a fiend, and it just wouldn't be good. There've been people in the past who've wanted to get into similar relationships, and if you got to do it in two months, which is a very short time, it would create a lot of animosity and envy. It just can't be. It'll take you a while before you realize that the things that are done are done in your own interest. Trudy could drive you right out of this place. She'd probably like to leave since her marriage has broken up. Imagine you leaving with her! You'd die. Just keep lookin' around. There's all kinds of chicks."

So that was that. I started looking throughout the club and on the bus and everywhere, and I started asking girls how long they'd been in Synanon and how old they were. I got a reputation of being a real flirt, but I wanted to find someone and I wanted everyone to know .1 was available.

There was another girl, Rhonda, who'd been married to a guy that was there. We had always talked; she would give me things; and she'd told me, more or less, that we should get together. Rhonda was sexy looking. She had more outward sex appeal than Trudy, but Trudy had more class. Rhonda was kind of a dog in a way, but it was fun being around her. She had large busts and a fair body; her face was kinda strange. She was a tall girl, and her legs were a little too thin for the rest of her. She had straight, brown hair, and she was also very intelligent. She was a real climber. That was one thing I didn't like about her. She used people to further herself. We were sitting on the couch one day, and she was flirting with me like she always did, and I told her what Bob had said, that I could start looking around. I said, "Would you like to get together?" She said, "Oh, man, I wish you could have asked me a little while before! As you know, I'm ambitious and you can't offer me anything now other than the envy of the other girls who have eyes for you. I've got a thing going with So-and-so." This was a guy that was a big shot. He later became a director in one of the Synanon houses. They were going together, and he could really further her ambitions because he was well thought of by Chuck. He was being groomed for an important position and could really help her. She said she cared for him, too. I said, "You missed your chance." She kissed me and everything. She rubbed herself against me, but my feelings were hurt.

There was another girl I liked, a redhead I was working with in bookkeeping. She was a newcomer like me. One Sunday I saw her in the club and went over and started talking to her, and while we were talking a blond came over who had been around for a couple of years and she asked the redhead, "How would you like to go for a walk?" It was a beautiful day. She turned to me and said, "Would you like to come with us? Sonja is coming and there'll be four of us." We all signed out and went down to the boardwalk. I walked with the redhead, bullshitting and all that. We'd always flirted. We walked by the beach and it was hot. Somebody said, "Let's stop and get a Coke or something." We sat down at a table. I was sitting across from the blonde, and she really started coming on to me. She was another secretary. She was thin with a beautiful complexion, and her hair was cut short in little curls, an old-fashioned hairdo like a bob. I noticed that she had hardly any breasts, but she had a nice ass and she was tall and there was something about her eyes-they had a sexy quality. She had blue eyes. You could tell she was a natural blonde.

We left this restaurant, and now I was walking with her instead of the redhead. We got back to the club and the blonde said, "Why don't we go down to the beach?" The redhead and the other girl both had things they had to do, so this girl turned to me and said, "How about you, Art? Would you like to go?" I had my bathing suit down in the men's locker room so I said, "Okay, I'll put on my suit." She said, "I've got mine underneath my clothes."

Synanon had a private beach, and there weren't many peo ple out at the time. We met. She had a bikini on. She had a beautiful stomach, beautiful legs, and nice feet, and she had blonde hairs on her legs. She already had a little tan. We laid down on the sand and started talking. I told her how hard it was to stay in Synanon when you didn't have any contact with a female. She said, "I know what you mean." I said, "Who do you go with?" She said, "No one. I really understand what you mean. It's murder." I looked at her and thought, "Well, what the hell. She's clean." And I liked the parts of her body I could see, and she had sexy eyes. I said, "I believe that anybody can be compatible if they want to be. How would you like to get together with me?" She said, "Do you really mean it?" I said, "Yeah." She said, "I'd love to!" The next day I went to Bob Holmes and he said, "She's fine if you have eyes, but make sure. If it's the wrong chick you'll pay a lot of dues to get out of it.'

The next time I saw her in the club I asked her if she wanted some coffee. I had observed her a few times walking around and-when I really got into it-if I could have balled her that Sunday it would have been nice, but to have to go through all the "courtship" and then the "relationship" and the games with her ... We just didn't mesh. I realized I'd made a mistake and something had to be done. I found out who her tribe leader was, a woman, and went to this woman and told her the story: "What do you think I should do?" She said, "I'm glad you found out now. That girl is very together. Just tell her outright you don't really care for her that much." That afternoon I had coffee with her again, and before I started speaking I could tell she knew what was happening. A very perceptive girl. I started mumbling something and she said, "You don't really have eyes anymore. It's good you told me now. I'm disappointed, but I'll get over it." She walked away from the table, and I saw she had tears in her eyes, and I thought, "Oh, man, what a scene this is! This is ridiculous!"

Things kept going wrong. A woman who'd been in Synanon nine years hit on me, but Bob wouldn't give his permission. She went to Chuck, but he wouldn't give his permission either, and I was really relieved because I didn't like her that much. A friend of mine who was a lesbian offered to get in a relationship with me, and I thought about it seriously, but I just couldn't do it. I went out with some nonresident women to a concert, and one of them drove me home and gave me head in the car, and that was great, but I still didn't have an old lady. I was raving in games that I couldn't get this one and I couldn't get that one because of this or that and they beat me up in the games saying, "Why don't you relax?"

Finally, I was in the club one day, walking up the stairs, and I looked ahead of me and there was this girl. She was real thin, with black hair cut short, and she had a nice tan. She had gorgeous legs and the most beautiful ass I ever remember seeing. She was wearing a short skirt, and I could almost see her panties but not quite. I followed her up the stairs, and when I got to the top, where she was turning, I walked by her and said hello. She gave me a funny look. She said, "Hello." She looked kinda scared, you know, and I walked on.

I saw her a couple more times, and each time I said, "Hello. How are you?" But I couldn't make contact with her. Then one day I got on the bus and noticed this same girl sitting right behind the bus driver facing the center of the bus, so I sat down across from her. She had on a little, short, purple dress. She really looked classy and very withdrawn. She had pretty eyes, very, very pretty eyes. She had thin lips, but they were sexy. Her whole thing was sexy. I looked down at her hands. Her hands were delicate, artistic. She was wearing little sandals, and she had the cutest little feet, like little doll feet, with cute little toes. I looked at her legs and saw that they were open a bit; I could see up underneath her dress; I could see these purple little panties. And that was so sexy and so exciting .... By then I didn't even bother to look away or to be cool. I devoured her with my eyes. The bus stopped, she got off, and she was gone. Instantly she was gone, before I could think of anything to say. I followed her and saw the place she went into. I asked somebody who the girl was in the purple dress and they said, "That's Laurie Miller." I said to myself, "That's it. That's for me. I'm going to have her. There's no question about it. I'm going to start a campaign tomorrow, and I'm going to get her or else."

The next day was Saturday. On Saturday night people would come in from the outside and visit. There was a speaker, and the band would play a hoopla, and the visitors - the prospec tive square game players - were taken on a tour. All the residents were supposed to go-to the Saturday night party. The dorm heads forced everyone to go; it was mandatory.

Some people really did do the "Synanon Thing." They'd go to the club on Saturday night, and if they saw any newcomer that was kinda lonely or looked sad they'd talk to them and run them a bunch of "data," tell them how great it was to be in Synanon and try to find out why they were unhappy and make them feel accepted and wanted and part of the group so they'd stay. And report them if they felt they were going to leave. Be a rat. And they'd show the visitors around and explain the "Synanon Philosophy."

I dressed up as best I could and got on the bus to go down to the club. As I'm riding I'm looking out the windows and I'm seeing people, the real people, the people who have been able to manage their lives, the free people. They were on the streets with chicks and cars, going into liquor stores, laughing, and having a ball. I remember reaching down and putting my hand on my stomach, where after the operation I still had the hernia, and I felt the bulge there and the pain I always feel, and I thought of the cirrhosis that was in my body, and this rare Italian blood disease the Synanon doctors had just informed me I had. I said, "Well, I've made my bed, now I gotta lie in it." I thought of getting off the bus and walking back toward town, going into a bar or a liquor store and bumming enough for a bottle of wine, making a phone call. Then I thought of Laurie; I thought of her and those little purple panties.

I got off the bus and I looked at every face. I went into the club. I looked and looked. I didn't want to ask anybody if they'd seen her because I didn't want to tip my hand. I was afraid if somebody found out I had eyes for her they'd try to shoot me out-somebody that had been there longer. I was afraid if they saw I dug her they'd think, "Wow, if he digs her and he's been around as much as he has, she must be a way-out broad." I figured I'd better keep it to myself. Also I didn't want to have anybody running up to her saying anything. I wanted to make the move myself. I looked all over; the place was packed. Then, there she was sitting in the "bar" with a group of people. I went over and watched her, waiting for someone to leave so I could sit next to her. Nobody did. Finally she got up and walked away. I went to her and stood in front of her. I said, "What's your name?" She told me. She looked ill at ease: "Who are you?" I said, "I'm Art." "Art who?" "Art Pepper." I saw there was a sudden recognition. I had figured she was playing a game, a coy little game. I thought she really knew who I was. She said, "Art Pepper. I knew some people that knew you at Westlake School of Music." She named a bunch of people, Les McCann, Charlie Haden. I said, "I used to blow with Les McCann, and Charlie Haden-I gave him his first jazz job with my quartet." She said, "Oh, really?" I was trying to think of something to say. Usually when I talked to a girl the conversation would take a certain direction right away, but in this one nothing happened and I couldn't figure out how to break through. She looked around and said, "Oh, pardon me, I've got to circulate." I said, "What do you mean?" She said, "That's what the Saturday night party is for. There's some new girls in my tribe. I want to find out how they're doing." And she was gone.