Chapter 13- Frosty

It was during Christmas week that I first met FROSTY.

We had just moved from San Francisco to Ross, an exclusive, old money town in Marin County, California. Dominique had unexpectedly inherited, from one of her oldest clients, who had conveniently died, a 100 year old, 30 room, rustic, redwood summer home on 10 acres of old growth trees. The property, surrounded by a 12 foot high moss covered stone wall, had scrolled iron-work gates and a guard house. The sprawling house, built at the edge of a one acre lake had a blooming water garden of hyacinth, and water lily. Migrating water birds fed along the shore.
Dominique didn’t come to the party with me. She was in one of her fugue states and had locked herself in the sarcophagus like, windowless black basement chamber she called, fittingly enough ‘the black room’. It contained her black velvet wing chair and a small table. She had it built shortly after we moved into the house. When she was in one of her ‘I want to die’ moods she went there, to think about death I suppose. As time passed she was more and more obsessed with death. It got a little old.

I met Frosty at a celebration party in the flamboyant house of one of the local porn producers who had recently won a landmark Supreme Court obscenity ruling.

The party guests were a mixed bag of drug dealers, promoters, rock stars, con artists,lawyers, artists, and money men. They had all gotten rich and moved to Marin County to live the good life in the laid back luxury that country living offered.

FROSTY was a fat man with a big laugh. That day he wore a red Santa Claus suit. From his ear hung a huge silver spoon. He looked like Santa Claus on coke. White hair and a grizzled white beard framed his cherry cheeks. His eyes sparkled with playful avarice. His head butting laughter dominated the room.

Stuffed animal heads and antique furniture cluttered the enormous salon. In a huge stone fire place a deer carcass sizzled on a spit. The men bunched before it like a pack of hungry wolves.

At the opposite pole, in front of a huge, gilt mirror, the women posed , polished and groomed to brittle perfection, like prize bitches at a dog show with one exception.

She arrived late and alone. Dressed in a pale ivory linen jacket, mid-calf skirt and matching low heeled slippers she was casual and relaxed. Without effort, she had the kind of beauty any of the rest of them would kill for if their apraising glares meant anything. Her long ash blonde hair was a wind blown curtain through which intelligent gray eyes smiled.

I had never seen her before.

She walked up to the group that FROSTY was playing CAN YOU TOP THIS with, gently shook hands with each of them and joined the conversation.

I was curious. I moved closer.

These egos who moments ago were on parade were in the midst of a serious discussion with her, about horses, of all things.

FROSTY, his enormous gut sucked in, his shoulders back, was doing his best to impress this mystery guest who made every other woman in the room look low rent.

“Who is she?” I asked a fit man with a perfect tan.

“Good taste.” He said. “That’s Kitty.”


“She’s...” He paused, his expression puzzled. “She’s a player. She comes to parties some times, never does drugs, knows everybody, stays for a while and then disappears, alone. I’ve never heard of anybody who’s fucked her.”

I looked past him. She was gone.

“Where did she go?” I asked.

“See what I mean.” He answered.

“Who’s the fat guy?”

“Which one.”

“The one with the laugh.”

He nodded.

“Oh, that’s FROSTY. He’s a loud mouth but he’s all right, just insecure. People either love him or hate him. He’s a dealer.”


“I think he uses as much as he moves.”

“Bad business.”

He shrugged.

“Live fast, die young.” He said.

“And poor.” I answered.

We laughed.

The group around FROSTY had just returned to trying to top one another bullshit when the proud host announced that he was showing his new film in the screening room. En masse the men followed him. The women herded behind them.

Like a heat seeking missle FROSTY headed for the elaborate buffet table.

At its center stood a life sized ice sculpture of the Snow Queen on a silver tray. In her outstretched, icy grip was a cocaine rock as big as a basket ball. The statue stood in a silver bowl, surrounded by another more enormous silver bowl filled with what must have been ten pounds of cocaine. Elegant, long handled silver table spoons stuck out of the snow field like ostentatious invitations.

“Hay man! Great party huh?” He grunted as he scooped up a handful of coke and sucked at it.

He sniffled and leered at me. The end of his nose was crusted and white.

I nodded.

“My name’s FROSTY.”

He had a wrap around grin.

“Robert King.”

“I know. Glad to meet you Bob.”

I cringed.

“Call me King.” I said, quietly.

“Touchy are you. Sorry man.”

He shook my shoulder.

“Hay man,” he rebounded.

Caviar dribbled from his mouth.

“You look like you need a pick me up. Have a toot.”

He tossed me an inhaler.

"That's for the commoners," he said, nodding at the coke bowl.

"This is "The KIND!"

I tapped the inhaler against the table top and snorted.

He watched my eyes.

My head exploded.

“God damn!” I said.

“You like it man?”

His eyes twinkled.

I nodded.

“I’ve got something you’ll really like, but not here.” He said with a conspiratorial wink. “You done with this scene?”

“There’s nothing to keep me here.”

“Right on!” He nodded and slapped me on the back. “Let’s blow this pop stand and have some real fun. You’ll be interested in what I’ve got to turn you on to.”

He turned on his heel and headed for the door.

Outside, a sudden snow flurry glittered the night.

“Far out huh?” He said.

He pulled me into a white stretch limo. The door closed behind us with a solid “CHUNK”!

A Segovia tape was playing. He poured champagne and handed me a glass.

“Here’s to the real party, man!”

We touched glasses.

“Hay man!” He yelled at the driver through the black out glass. “13666 RockLand, Belvedere!”

I leaned back and closed my eyes.

“You’re not tired are you man? Here have some courage.”

He passed the inhaler. I rapped it against my knee.

“Now we’re having fun!” He howled.

Suddenly I laughed. I was having fun; not thinking about it, not analyzing it, just letting loose of the string.

During the ride we passed the inhaler back and forth and sipped champagne. Except for his constant sniffling we listened quietly to the music. I felt strangely relaxed, as if I had known him for years.

We pulled up in front of a walled compound with twin steel security gates and a keypad on a pole. FROSTY rolled down the window andpunched in a code. The gates swung wide and closed behind us.

“Never can be too careful.” He said and winked.

The house was built to impress. I was too out of it to be impressed. It was full of a lot of expensive stuff I didn’t pay much attention to. Then we were in a big room where a fire burned. A snifter of brandy was in my hand.

A woman in a sheer white robe, amd, beneath it, an equally sheer white camisole, entered the room. She had cropped, uncombed, curly black hair and great tits. Her nose was red. Her glazed eyes looked wounded. Her hands trembled. She sniffled.

“Well, if it isn’t the snow queen.” FROSTY sneered.

She flinched.

“Hi FROSTY! Was the party fun?” She asked,with a nervous, puppy-like eagerness.

“What fuckin’ difference does it make. You weren’t invited.”

“Don’t be a dick head FROSTY.” She said.

“King, meet Camilla. She’s just sucking up to get her beak packed.”

He winked and grinned.

“Coke whores.” He said and shook his head. As if that explained everything

She sat down beside me on the couch.

FROSTY laughed.

“Why don’t you fuck him Camilla?”

“Maybe I will FROSTY.”

“I don’t feel like fucking right now if you both don’t mind.” I mumbled.

They both looked surprised and then started to laugh.

Camilla reached out and squeezed my hand.

“I like him FROSTY. He’s good people.”

“Well let’s share some of the stash with him then.” He said.

He picked up a small silver container and looked me in the eye.

“This is serious shit King. The kind of high you don’t come across often.”

“Do your best.” I said.

The white powder had a malevolent sheen.

He set a glass pipe on the table.

Camilla took my hand in hers.

FROSTY dramatically packed a pinch of the powder in the pipe.

Camilla pressed my hand against her breast. Her body was a furnace.

I went with the flow.

FROSTY looked up at me. His eyes were glassy and bloodshot.

“You’re not going to believe this man.”

“What is it?”

“It’s GLORY man! That’s what it is. You’ve never had anything like this. I guar-an-tee it.”

“Interesting name.” I mumbled.

“Yah, right.” He responded.

Chapter 13- Frosty