Running With Monsters: A Memoir by Bob Forrest

Author:Bob Forrest [Forrest, Bob]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Kickass.to, ScreamQueen
ISBN: 9780770435981
Publisher: Crown Archetype
Published: 2013-10-02T05:00:00+00:00

MY BOY

As I escaped Los Angeles on my flight to Oklahoma, my mind drifted back to Orange County, California, in 1985. I stared out the window of the jet and saw scenes play out like a movie.

“Would you like another cuppa, love?” the girl said in a High Counties accent, and poured some tea from a china set before she got an answer.

I shot Anthony a look and rolled my eyes. I was drunk.

She passed a plate of cookies across to us. “Biscuits, lads?”

Anthony just smiled and took a macaroon from the plate.

His girl, the one with the posh English accent, perplexed me. Why did she insist on that voice? She was, after all, an Orange County girl. Born and raised right here in the heart of Reagan Country, she and her little group of friends liked musicians. Anthony, Kendall Jones and Norwood Fisher from Fishbone, and I liked to hang out with pretty young girls. Among this group was a vivacious charmer named Colleen. From my observation, she was the smart one of the pack. Kendall dated her friend. They were giggly girls and often acted silly in a bright and superficial manner that reflected their Orange County environment, especially when Anthony was around. These girls may have liked musicians, but they loved Anthony, and they acted goofy and childish whenever he was near. Colleen was different. She had a more mature sensibility. I asked her out, and we spent some time together. I didn’t see a future with her. She was healthy, happy, and wholesome. I found that type of woman boring. I wanted drama and excitement. I wanted the kind of woman who would cheat on me with my best friend, and that definitely wasn’t Colleen—but she was available, and, like most guys would have, I went for her. In my mind, it was nothing serious. Just a dalliance. I assumed that she was some college chick who had her eyes fixed on a degree. She lived in a nice house in a nice neighborhood with her nice brother. Nice, nice, nice. I slept with her a few times but started to ease myself out of this relationship that, to me, had never existed in any sort of formal state.

One night, I was with Chris Hansen at his place in Echo Park, far, far away from Orange County, fake English accents, brittle macaroons, and nice college girls. The phone screamed out a few times before Chris picked up. I didn’t like the look that crossed his face.

“It’s for you, Bob.”

“Who is it?”

“That girl, Colleen.”

“No, no, no, man. Tell her I just left or something.”

“Dude. She knows you’re here.”

He held out the receiver to me like it was a pistol and I needed to do the honorable thing. If he had been a better host, he also would have offered me a blindfold and a last cigarette. I took the receiver from Chris and tentatively said, “Hi, Colleen.”

Her voice was calm, like always. “I’m pregnant, Bob. It’s your baby.

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