Summer Days, Starry Nights

by Vikki VanSickle

“What kind of trouble?”

  “The kind of trouble you can’t even imagine.”

  Fine, so she wasn’t going to divulge any deep secrets today. Not for the first time, I wondered why Gwen had agreed to come all the way to Sandy Shores if she hated the country so much. I knew it had something to do with her mother, but now I wondered if it also had something to do with Johnny. It couldn’t be about the money, because I knew for a fact she was only making a few dollars a week. Daddy felt free room and board was more than generous for an employee who only worked a few hours a day, even if she was a professional.

  When the song ended, she was quiet and seemed wistful.

  It was now or never.

  “I had an idea,” I started. “But I’m going to need your help.”

  “What kind of idea?”

  “You’re always saying that there is never anything to do around here. So what if we gave people something to do? We could open up our Friday night dances to the whole county.”

  “That’s not a bad idea. It would give kids a place to go. Listen to some good music, dance …”

  “Exactly. I bet we’d get all sorts of people.”

  Gwen sprang to her feet and started pacing the length of the stage. “Reenie, you’re a genius — I think it’s a great idea. Now let’s think bigger.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What if we had live music?”

  This was working out better than I had hoped. Gwen had come up with the idea of live performances all on her own. I knew if we already had one or two musical acts, sneaking in a surprise performance from an honest-to-goodness rock-and-roll star would be even easier.

  “How would we manage that?” I asked carefully.

  “Easy. Put a notice up. You’d be surprised at all the musicians that crawl out of the woodwork. Your brother, for example. I bet his band would draw a crowd. Maybe I should work up a few numbers myself. It would be good practise.”

  “What do you know about Bo’s band?” I asked.

  “Please, the boy lives right above me. I could probably sing their entire set right now.”

  When Gwen was excited about something, not only did she laugh more, but she buzzed from idea to idea, totally transformed into someone bright and electric.

  “We should pick a date in August to give us time to plan and book some performers,” Gwen suggested. Then she squealed, adding, “I’m so excited! Let’s go talk about this on the beach. I can’t stand to be inside anymore.”

  The Plan

  “So what’s this I hear about a big party?” Bo said.

  “Nothing,” I said, struggling to keep the excitement out of my voice. “Gwen and I just thought it would be a good idea to, you know, bring the guests and the locals together. Just some live music, dancing …”

  I trailed off and concentrated on the big bucket of peas Elsa had given me to shell for dinner. They were firm and waxy under my fingers, and they cracked open with a satisfying snap.

  “Live music, huh?” Bo said.

  “You know, bands and stuff. Do you know anyone who might be interested?”

  Bo threw his head back and laughed. “You are a terrible actress,” he said. There was a time when I would have been stung by a comment like that, but I was beginning to realize that being a good actress was like being a good liar, and I wasn’t so sure I wanted to be either.

  Bo sighed and sat on the step beside me, nudging my knee with his. “Come on, Reenie. If you’ve got something to say, just say it.”

  “Why, do you have someone in mind?”

  “I do, actually. And I bet you do, too.”

  Bo dropped his hand into the bucket and scooped up a handful of bright green peas, shoving them all into his mouth at once.

  “Hey! Those are for dinner!”

  “No one will notice.” Bo grinned, showing off the mashed up peas in his teeth. “Besides, Elsa loves me. Come on, Reenie. Spit it out. You know, if you ask me nicely I might say yes.”

  “What makes you think I want you to play?”

  Bo grinned. “Come on. You and I both know that I am the best guitar player for miles around.”

  I sniffed. “I don’t know that for sure.”

  Bo whistled. “When did you get so cold? I pity the poor sap who falls in love with you, Reenie.”

  “I didn’t think you’d be interested in playing here. It’s just an old mess hall, after all, at a lame family resort where nothing happens …”

  Bo didn’t take the bait. Instead, he slapped his thigh and said, “I’m in. Better yet, I’ll get the boys to come, too. We’ll all do it.”

  I set aside my peas and looked directly at Bo to make sure he wasn’t pulling my leg. “Really? You’ll do it?”

  Bo took my hand and placed it over his heart. “Cross my heart and hope to die. Now let’s talk about payment.”

  I took my hand back, shocked. “You want money?”

  “We’re your entertainment. You can’t expect us to play for nothing.”

  “Will you play for food?”

  Bo thought about it for a second.

  “What kind of food?”

  “Elsa’s cooking.”

  Bo grinned and offered me his hand again, which I took. “Little sister, you’ve got a headlining band.”

  “I never said you would be headlining.”

  “Who else is going to do it?”

  Now I was the one grinning. “You’ll see.”

  * * *

  When Friday came around, I lagged behind after dinner, claiming to have a stomach ache. Mimi put her palm to my forehead.

  “Too much sun?” she asked.

  I shrugged, acting as meek as possible. “Maybe,” I lied. “Do you mind if I bow out tonight? I think I’m going to lie down.”

  “I can look after refreshments at the dance,” Mimi said. “Scarlett, baby, do you mind doing the roasting sticks at campfire?”

  “I’ll do it,” Gwen offered. “How hard can it be?”

  Bo frowned. “It can get pretty messy. That marshmallow goo sticks to everything. Are you sure you can handle that?”

  Gwen scowled. “You just don’t want me to upstage you,” she said.

  Bo threw up his hands. “Fine. It’s not like you do anything other than what you want to do anyway.”

  “You got that right,” Gwen said, giving me a wink. “Feel better, Reenie.”

  I watched them go, feeling guilty. I wasn’t used to lying. I kept reminding myself that I was doing this for Gwen and for Sandy Shores, but if I was going to be completely honest, I was doing it for myself, too. If I could make Gwen happy and save the resort, Mimi and Daddy would see me as an adult, someone they could trust, someone to be proud of.

  True to my word, I spent an hour or so after dinner on my bed, but I was going over the plan in my head. No one so much as popped their head in to see how I was feeling. Once I was sure everyone was out, I crept down to the office to wait for my call in the near dark. When the phone rang, it was so loud I nearly knocked the receiver out of the cradle in my scramble to pick it up.

  “Good evening, Sandy Shores. This is Maureen Starr speaking.”

  “Friday night at nine p.m. sharp. What did I tell you?”

  “Hello, Johnny. Thanks for calling.”

  “So where’s my best girl?”

  “She had to work,” I said, sticking to the line I had been going over and over in my head all day.

  Johnny snorted. “Was there some sort of dance emergency?” he said.

  I didn’t know what to say.

  There was a long pause that made my hands shake. Even far away, through a phone line, Johnny knew I was lying.

  “Okay, Miss Starr, if you say so. But I gotta say, I feel like you’re giving me a bit of a runaround here.”

  “No! She had to work, my parents insisted, I swear. Why would I lie to you?”

  “That’s just it. I can’t figure out your game.”

  “No game — just a plan.”

  Johnny sigh
ed long and loudly, like he was hard done by. “So, what’s the plan?”

  “Can you get up here in two weeks, on August tenth?”

  “Well let me see …” Johnny trailed off. I imagined him checking a calendar filled with tour dates and interviews — until I heard him yell, “Bert! We got anything on the tenth?”

  After a moment, Johnny came back on the line. “You sure are lucky, Miss Starr. Something fell through and I am free as a bird on the tenth. Shall I get old Bert here to pencil you in?”

  “So you’ll do it? You’ll really come?”

  But Johnny was still in his own little world. “Lucky Miss Starr … I like the sound of that. Anyone ever written a song about you, Reenie?”

  “No.”

  “They will, with a name like that. I bet you’re cute as a button, too. I can tell by your voice.”

  I squirmed in my chair, feeling oddly disloyal to Gwen. “Do you need directions, or …?” I left it at that, unsure of what else to say. Now that everything was confirmed, I just wanted to get off the phone. Johnny Skins might be Gwen’s type, but something about him gave me the heebie-jeebies.

  Johnny laughed. “No siree, I got someone to do that for me.”

  “Remember this is a secret,” I reminded him. The last thing I needed was a big-mouthed rock star letting the cat out of the bag on some radio show. Or worse, on television.

  “Heck, I’ll probably forget all about it until old Bert here reads me my schedule. Isn’t that right, Bert?”

  “Who’s Bert? Can he keep a secret?”

  Johnny laughed. “Are you kidding? Bert is MISTER secret!”

  He laughed again, and this time I forced myself to laugh along with him, though I wasn’t exactly sure what was so funny. I wondered if Bert knew about Johnny and Gwen.

  “Well, goodbye, then.”

  “You have a good night, Lucky Miss Starr.”

  I hung up and lay my forehead against the desk, drawing in a deep breath. My insides felt shaky and my head was spinning, but I was proud of myself. I had done it. Maybe Johnny was right — I was lucky. I hoped that luck wasn’t about to run out. I would be needing more of it in the days to come.

  The Right Kind of People

  We had Bo’s band secured, and my secret guest, now it was time to get the word out around town.

  “We could make flyers,” I suggested. “Hang them up around Orillia.”

  Gwen was doing leg lifts on the floor of the mess hall between classes. I lost count at forty-six, but that was at least five minutes ago. She barely broke a sweat.

  “That sounds like the sort of thing old ladies do for a church function,” she said. “You want to attract the right kind of people.”

  “What kind of people is that?” I asked, annoyed. So far it felt like I was the only one doing any work. All Gwen seemed to do was point out the flaws in my plans. This was supposed to be our project; there was something in it for both of us, after all. But lately Gwen had been preoccupied. She was never around when I went looking for her, and she wasn’t as interested in hanging out and playing her records.

  “Oh, you know, teenagers — cool people like you and me.”

  Gwen smiled before rolling over and starting her leg lifts on the other side. I was glad she couldn’t see me blush.

  “Right,” I said. I may technically have been a teenager, but there was a world of difference between me and Gwen. I wondered if we met outside of Sandy Shores, would she think I was the right kind of person? Would she really think of inviting me, or would she just walk on by? The thought squirmed inside me like a worm in an apple.

  Gwen started to speak, but most of her words got swallowed up by a yawn.

  “Did you sleep okay?” I asked.

  “Why do you ask?”

  “You keep yawning.”

  Gwen smiled, waving me off. “Don’t worry about me, Reenie. I’m not used to this gruelling summer schedule.”

  “You spend most of the time sunbathing or fixing people’s posture,” I pointed out. “That can’t be more gruelling than ballet school.”

  “You’re right. I haven’t been sleeping well.”

  “Is it the bed? Maybe you can switch rooms.”

  “The room is fine. Really, Reenie, don’t worry about it.”

  “It’s Bo, isn’t it? He’s keeping you up. When he’s not fiddling around on his stupid guitar, he’s sneaking out at all hours of the night.”

  “No, that’s not it,” Gwen said quickly. “It’s just this heat. So, where do people hang out around here?”

  “It changes,” I said, which wasn’t a complete lie. But the truth was I had no idea. “The fairgrounds were popular for a while. People probably hang out at the Burger Palace now, too.”

  “Then all we need to do is let a few key people know about it. They’ll start talking, and soon everyone will know. So, step one, find out where the cool people are and let them know about the rockingest party they’ll ever have the privilege of attending. Step two, show time!”

  * * *

  I felt heartened by my deal with Bo. He was still as elusive and mysterious as ever, but when he was around he seemed to smile more. Maybe all he’d wanted was for someone in the family to acknowledge that he was in a band and it mattered to him — even if that someone was his little sister who knew next to nothing about music.

  “Did you ask the rest of the band?” I asked.

  “Yup.”

  “And?”

  “And they’re cool with it.”

  “So you’re in?”

  Bo shoved my shoulder playfully. “I told you we were in. Don’t look so worried. No one’s going to back out at the last second.”

  “Tell them to invite anyone they want. The more, the merrier.”

  Bo’s eyebrows inched into his hairline. “The more, the merrier?” he repeated. “What’s that from, a nursery rhyme? I thought this was a rock ’n’ roll concert.”

  “It is,” I said, blushing furiously. Why couldn’t Bo just let things slide?

  “When people hear that Wide Mouth Bass is playing, you’ll have to turn them away at the door.”

  “Wide Mouth Bass?”

  “That’s the name of our band.”

  “How do people know about you?”

  A smile spread across Bo’s face, the kind of smile that held a lot of secrets. I wondered just what kind of a following Wide Mouth Bass had. “Let’s just say your event isn’t the first gig we’ve ever played.”

  “I want to come next time.”

  “It’s not really your scene.”

  “You don’t know that,” I protested, but Bo held up his hands.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “You’ve been sneaking out for months and I haven’t said a word, not to Mimi or Daddy.”

  “Reenie—”

  “And I won’t say anything, not if you promise to take me with you. Just once.”

  Bo shook his head, but I knew he would say yes. He didn’t have a choice. It was bring me along or risk having his late night music sessions put to an end once and for all. It was a low-down, dirty thing to do, but I didn’t have a choice. Both of us had a lot to lose.

  “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “Good. So when’s your next performance?”

  Bo smacked his forehead, groaning. “Gig, Reenie. Actors perform. Musicians play gigs.”

  “You know what I mean. When’s your next gig?”

  “What are you doing tonight?”

  “You mean—”

  “We’ll leave at eleven. Meet me by the Lookout. Make sure no one hears you.”

  “No problem,” I said, sounding braver than I felt. “You’re not the only one who knows how to sneak around this place.”

  PART THREE

  FIRE

  August, 1962

  A Secret Weapon

  Even campfire couldn’t calm my nerves. I tried to focus on the flames, but they weren’t having their usual calming effect.
Part of me was impatient for campfire to be over, but I also wanted it to go on forever. I had no idea where Bo was taking me or what I was getting into, and I couldn’t decide which was worse: the waiting or the not knowing.

  Bo barely acknowledged me, as usual. He was relaxed and charming, and I envied his self-confidence. What would it be like to walk into a room or out onto a stage and perform without caring what people thought? Bo was wrong. Being a musician was a lot like being an actor, only you didn’t have lines to hide behind. You were the one people listened to and came to see. It was performing the innermost parts of you. Being a musician was worse.

  Once the singing had wound down, and Bo had played Taps, it was close to ten. I had an hour to get ready. I said a quick good night to Mimi and Daddy, careful to give them each a kiss, like I did every night. Then I hurried up to the lodge. Lately it seemed like everywhere I went, Mimi found a reason to show up. She continued to come to Gwen’s classes when she could steal away from the office, just as I had feared. When Gwen and I were relaxing on the beach, she would turn up, offering lemonade or a magazine. I didn’t want to give her any reason to be suspicious, not while her antennae were already up. If I could just get to eleven o’clock without any questions, I was sure I’d breathe easier.

  There was only one person I wanted to see. Gwen wasn’t at campfire, but I looked up and saw that her window was open and the light was still on. I know she liked her privacy, but I needed a confidence boost even more. I knocked lightly on her door.

  Gwen cracked it and peered out. She never once invited me in without first checking to see who it was, though I doubted anyone but me ever bothered coming to her room.

  “Come in,” she said, stepping aside to let me by. Her hair was wound up in a kerchief, and her face was hidden under a thick layer of cold cream. The room was hot and smelled strongly of nail polish. It made my eyes water.

  “What’s wrong with you?” she asked. “You’re all jangly.”

  “I’m going to a party tonight,” I admitted. “Bo’s taking me.”

  “How did you manage that?” Gwen said with a smirk.

  “I asked him.”

  Gwen crossed her arms, frowning at me. We both knew that wasn’t exactly true.