George was smart.
He knew that as long as we were together in a room full of people he could never really put the screws to me. But if he got me alone somehow, well then - I'd be at his mercy. And so there we were - just George and me in his LTD, heading down the highway.
For twenty minutes we sat in silence. Awkward, painful silence - and I was stressed. And musicians are not trained to handle stress, what with the whole "artist" thing and all. But there I was - my mind racing, my imagination reeling. "What is this guy thinking? Where is he taking me? What is he going to do???" And then suddenly out of nowhere, George broke the silence.
Here it comes, I thought. "So Jeff, who the hell do you think you are, going out with my daughter? Let me just let you off at the next exit so you can hitch a ride out of town and never come back again. After all, you don't want to upset me now, do you? You KNOW I'm psychotic - right? RIGHT?!"
This was definitely going to get ugly. I had been dreading meeting my girlfriend's parents ever since we'd met. She had made it clear very early on that it was going to take her parents some time to "get used to me." This didn't exactly fill me with confidence - nor the desire to ever actually meet these people. But now here I was, after only 2 short weeks of her leaving her boyfriend, sitting alongside George in his car.
"...it must have been quite a thrill performing in the Sammy Davis Jr. Telethon last weekend huh?"
WHAT??? Oh, this guy is good. Clearly he is the master of reverse psychology. In fact, he's probably right now using those interrogation skills he learned as a Marine. First the friendly questions designed to get me to let my guard down, then bam! - the bamboo shoots under my fingernails stuff.
"And I heard there was quite the star-studded cast as well," George continued.
That's it. I'm on to him. Two can play at this game. I'm not going to let some old holy roller intimidate me. I mean what's he going to do, shoot me? Punch me in the nose? Yell at me? Oh, that's scary - ooh. Ok, I'm cool. As long as I don't say anything stupid I can just do my time and ride this thing out. In a few minutes we'll be at his son's place and I'll be off the hook.
"Um, yeah," I answered cautiously. "Besides Sammy, it was Billy Crystal and Catherine Bach. Oh, and Lola Falana was there too."
"I'll bet that was pretty exciting," George replied.
"No kidding," I blurted, "she's pretty hot for an old chick!"
SHIT! That's it, I'm dead. I just had to open my stupid mouth. But then again what choice did I have? He MADE me break! I mean no sane person could stand up to this guy's mindgames. In fact I bet - no I'm CONVINCED this guy is with the CIA. No, the MAFIA!!! The only question now is, how is he going finish me off? Some dark alley in East St. Louis? Order a hit on me for a later date?
Huh? Oh crap, here it comes!
"We're here," George said. "And I'd like you to meet my son Jorge," he continued as his son approached the car. "Jorge, this is Jeff. Did you know Jeff and I have something in common?"
"That doesn't seem likely," Jorge said with a smirk. "What on earth would that be?"
Oh God, I didn't see this coming. How stupid of me. There was never any "son." It all makes so much sense now! I should have realized no old guy was gonna do me in. But this, this was his plan the whole time. Drag me to the next county, hand me over to his "son," as in Mafia - duh, tie me up and throw me in the trunk. I never even got the chance to say goodbye to anyone!
"...we both think Lola Falana is hot!"