Little Red Book
Me and Arthur Lee had something in common. It was something we shared.I was proud of it once but now I’m not so sure.It was a woman.Her name was
I met her at lunch one day across the table.She was Marylyn’s friend.They were both art students, girl art students.What could be better?Not
Her mother owned a Baskin Robbins ice cream store in La Jolla.To keep her out of trouble in L.A’s music scene she sent her to City College in San
Diego. Spoiled little rich girl Patty, always got what she wanted.
In addition to her mother owning an ice-cream shop she was just plain fine. She dressed sexy, like they do in downtown L.A.She had a decent figure
and red-platinum hair that she combined so well with her o-so-long legs and her o-so-short crimson skirt that clings so tight.Sometimes she wore boots.Boots be sooo sexy.
Too soon after introductions the bell rang and we had to go to class.The last thing she told me as we parted was,
“I’m Arthur Lee’s Groupie.” That’s what she said.
“Oh Wow.” That’s what I said, trying to sound impressed.
I didn’t even know who he was.I’d heard the song Little Red Book on the radio but didn’t know any more than a group calledLOVE had made it a hit. I didn’t know he was a genius.
Within three days we were going out.She loved making out and was so practiced at it she had me loving it, loving her, too.We’d make out in La Jolla
at her mom’s house there beneath Mount Soledad.
One day her mom came home early and interrupted what was going to be a first for me. Patty was not to be deterred though.The next night she
“Come over now.” she said.
As I pulled up she was standing outside in a fur coat that reached mid-thigh, and the boots.She was damp, I thought from the dew on the
“She’s cold. It’s cold out and damp. That’s why she’s wearing a coat.”
But it was warm and she was damp alright, but in a different sort of way.We took off down the street.
“Make a left,” she said.
I turned to go up Mount Soledad.It has a view of the sea on one side, the city on the other.The road was all
hairpin-switchback-uphill-straight-a-way-but-not–for-long. When I leaned a little nearer I noticed her perfume.It was one of her most dangerous weapons and it was at the ready.
She scooted closer yet and whispered in my ear, ‘I wanna give you something special,” all soft like.
We were about pass by a vacant lot but she said,
“Pull in here.”
There were few vacant lots there on the mountain but she’d spotted it at once.It was like she’d been there before or something.
I pulled off the road, and faced the car overlooking the city.The streets below were filled with a thousand multi-colored lights racing off into the
distance at breakneck speed.Then there were the tall buildings of downtown.Behind that loomed the blackness of Mt. San Miguel, and the mysterious shadows that only exist in Mexico. Yes, I agree,
it was romantic.
A single embrace, her breath so close, a touch, and then a sigh. It was like that.
“Let’s go to the back seat,” she suggested, “There’s more room there.”
In the back seat she began to get intense, like she wanted something she had to have.
I thought at first it was a new-improved squeeze, or an intimate term of endearment. That must be what she wanted.Perhaps it was some more tongue.I was wrong.It
was something else.It was a good you-know-what.
I can’t say exactly what she did.But here’s how she did it.
She started by revealing secrets in my ear, revealing them real soft-like, real sincere-like.When she told me what she wanted, how could I refuse
her?I couldn’t.Not me.Off with her coat.Surprise!There was nothing underneath.
So I had her.That’s when she became Queen Patty the First to me.Each man has his own Queen Whoever, one and only one. I believe that may be how it
is with women too.
So in reality she had me.It was a little of the ol’ in, a little of the ol’ out, a little of the ol’ in and out.Something happened to her when she
was beneath me.She had some sort of woman-quake, some sort of major event. So impressed and nervous was I that I didn’t.Whatever happened to her was intense.I just couldn’t put my finger on it.Or
maybe I could.
On the way home I was in a good mood.I figured that somewhere somehow something had made me a man, like I’d joined some kind of men’s club.
“Glad to be here boys,” I felt like saying to them, “I finally made it.”
Then I’d interlock my fingers and hold my arms aloft pumping my fists like in Rocky. They applauded.
I was laboring under the illusion that I possessed complete and total self control. Really I’d just been too nervous to relax.
“Hooray,” I thought, “This means I‘ll never have to wear a condom or look only for girls who are on the pill again.Gee, ain’t life grand!”
I figured this ability would broaden my horizons, expand my vistas so to speak.If you’re going to labor under an illusion this was certainly the
one.If you were bound to be wrong-headed about something this fit the bill.If you’re going to be delusional and wrong-headed at the same time at least be happy about it.So I was.
But the next day I had trouble getting hold of her. She had found me out.
She somehow became more distant.Her calls, which had been frequent, became less frequent, then infrequent, then not frequent, then not at all.I
tried for weeks to reconnect, you bet. Was I sad?You bet.But did I ever get over it?You bet.
There was, you see, that girl in philosophy class, Bonnie.
I wasn’t dumb enough not to know what medicine would fix me.I needed a second one; a Numero Segundo.Someone to take number one off my mind would do
it. I needed a dose of Bonnie.And that is what I would get.
But like I said, me and Arthur Lee, we shared Patty. When you were with Patty the First it was almost like being inLove.
Authors note:Little Red Book: written by Burt Baccarach.Arthur Lee made it his song.
Pretty Flamingo: written by Manfred Mann as was Do wah Diddy