by Liv Rancourt
“You will have three free afternoons.”
A muffled snort interrupted her. Maude sent a sharp glance through the late-evening gloom.
“Three free afternoons, and lights out will be at eleven thirty every night.”
Many of the girls groaned.
“Any behavior unbecoming a young lady will earn you an early ticket back home, and more importantly, you will lose your spot on the team.”
No one had anything smart to say about that. Silence settled over them, disrupted only by the chugging rumble of the bus’s engine.
Aunt Maude continued. “Do I need to remind you how a young lady behaves?”
Russell massaged the tightness running across the top of one shoulder. Susie could stand a lesson or two. He figured the odds of them getting in trouble were pretty much fifty-fifty. Without Susie’s influence to keep him in check, he’d probably raise those odds to 100%. His aunt beamed out over the girls, all but glowing with propriety, and Russell gave up on the massage. He needed a nice glass of whiskey to stifle her righteousness.
***
It was almost midnight when Skip and Ryker slid into the red Naugahyde booth at Beth’s Café.
“What’s the word from the bird?” Ryker clutched an unlit cigarette between his fingers.
I saw the man of my dreams. Skip covered his grin with his hand, picking a tamer response. “I want some red meat.”
“You and me both.” Ryker lit up, blowing smoke across the table. He was small and dark with a slicked-back duck butt and a greaser’s sneer. Whenever the subject came up, he claimed he got his coloring from his little Welsh grandmother. Skip usually asked if the milkman had been Italian.
Ryker usually told Skip to get bent.
Skip recognized most of the usual crowd, the musicians, the waiters, the kind of people who were out and about when late night turned into early morning. He extended his long legs under the table. After so many hours in the aqua theater’s small orchestra pit, his knees and calves thanked him for the stretch. Since Ryker was blowing smoke over his half of the table, he guessed he could take up some extra floor space.
The waitress came over, her blue-green uniform barely buttoned over her buxom chest and a fine black net covered her peroxide curls.
“What can I bring you gentlemen?” She directed her question at Skip. He aimed her at Ryker with a good-natured toss of his head, sending curls spilling into his face. All the pomade in the world couldn’t make his hair behave.
“How ’bout a burger with a side of titties...um, taters?” Ryker’s grin broadened the harder she blushed.
Skip kicked him under the table and gave the waitress an apologetic grin. “I’d like a steak and a large Coke.”
She passed them menus and stalked off. Ryker flirted with every woman he came across. He’d meet the right girl at some point, but till then, he put himself at risk for getting slapped unless Skip intervened.
An older, grumpier waitress came to take their order.
“It’s your own fault,” Skip said, glad there was still a waitress willing to help them. He needed to get to bed before his alarm went off in the morning. Four thirty was gonna come early. Getting to bed after midnight just made him hate his job at Boeing even more.
The grumpy waitress scratched their order on a pad and shuffled off, and Ryker tapped his cigarette against the edge of the plastic ashtray. “I wanna get my hands on that little dark-haired aqua baby we saw tonight.”
Skip disguised his laugh by flipping his hair out of his eyes. She was cute, but not his type. None of the water ballet girlies were his type. Their coach, now, the one who’d been stalking along the deck like Poseidon in chinos? Skip didn’t try to hide his grin. Tall and broad and clean-cut, he was the kind of man who caught Skip’s attention.
A fellow could get arrested if he happened to cross a vice cop, but Skip hadn’t been caught yet. He’d give a strange man a friendly smile, just to see what would happen. Tonight he would have had to be dumb and blind not to notice the flash of interest the man at the lake had done his best to hide. Nothing would come of it, but a guy could dream, couldn’t he?
The waitress set the plate holding Skip’s Spencer steak in front of him, then slammed down Ryker’s burger hard enough to make some fries jump off the plate.
“I still think we should go over to Parker’s,” Ryker said, crushing out his smoke. “The Frantics are doing a show.”
Skip applied himself to cutting bites off his steak, the charred-beef scent making his mouth water, the juices pooling cherry red on the white plate. He was a sucker for beef cooked rare, no matter what time of day. “Gotta work in the morning.”
“You and your stupid job.”
“Just because my daddy doesn’t pay my rent...” Or have anything else to do with me. Skip planted his elbows on the tabletop and rubbed his palms together. Maybe he didn’t know much about his family, but Mom had done her best. He knew it like he knew his own name.
Ryker grimaced over his burger. “All right, but after the show tomorrow, I’m going to grab my little swimming dolly and show her around town.”
“Maybe you can take her to watch the submarine races.” Skip laughed and ducked the flying french fry. For a rich boy, Ryker was okay. He couldn’t keep his mind out of the gutter, but he was usually good for taking care of the check.
And since he lived his life like one of those television soap operas, he didn’t question why Skip never had a date.
***
The night hadn’t warmed up any, so Russell changed into blue jeans before he snuck out to the alley. Susie snatched a handful of cookies and two coffee mugs out of the kitchen.
He brought the bottle of whiskey.
They sat side by side on the cool concrete steps outside the back door of Hansee Hall, the dorm where the team was being housed. After pouring a pair of healthy shots, Russell tapped her mug with his own. “Cheers.”
She handed him a cookie and tossed back a mouthful of whiskey. “Hoo boy.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He took a shot and let the whiskey go to work. He didn’t want to worry. He didn’t want to think. He wanted to listen to Susie’s happy chatter and let himself go numb.
“Did you see Phyllis?” Susie swirled the liquid in her mug. “She almost tripped over her tongue when all those boys came up from the lake.”
The whiskey’s earthy scent was more pleasant than the smell of old garbage and engine oil. “Wasn’t watching her,” he said, which was true enough. He took a sip, keeping an eye out for university students headed home from a late night in the library. No one needed to know they were out there.
He shifted closer, and Susie settled back against his shoulder. Her petite form stirred gentlemanly protective urges, the bone-deep certainty he’d put his body between her and anything harmful. Catching a whiff of her powdery floral perfume, he half wanted to take his cock in hand to see if he could raise some other kind of urges.
Though he couldn’t treat her so disrespectfully.
Susie sighed and took another swallow. “Your aunt hates me.”
“My aunt hates everybody.”
The amber porch light washed over Susie’s heart-shaped face. Her dark hair had dried in loose curls, and she looked like a green-eyed Elizabeth Taylor. This was it. Time to kiss his girlfriend.
Drumming up courage, Russell poured another splash in her mug. “We’ll just stay out of her way.”
“Sure.” She lolled against him with a half smile. He lowered his head, aiming vaguely for her lips. She giggled and scooted away.
This was their game. He maneuvered, she dodged, and after a couple more attempts, they’d share a chaste pressing of lips to lips. It wasn’t much, but all that Russell dared push for.
She licked the rim of her mug, definitely teasing him. “Annette says that a couple of those boys from the lake invited us out to hear a band tomorrow.”
“Neat.”
Her sardonic eyebrow suggested she’d heard his sarcasm. “It�
��ll be fun, Russell. You’re the one who said this was our last chance to play before...”
“Before?” he teased, just to hear what she’d say.
She laughed, pushing against his chest. “Before you get a job and we...”
This time she had the grace to look embarrassed. He hadn’t actually proposed to her yet.
“Before we find a little house, maybe one of the new ones out by the new golf club?”
She sat straight up, obviously surprised. “In Red Wing?”
“Well, yeah.” He shrugged, puzzled by her reaction. There weren’t that many lawyers in town, so he figured they could always use another one.
“But I thought you’d look for something in Minneapolis, or maybe even Chicago.”
“Chicago?”
She downed her whiskey, and once she stopped sputtering, her smile was back in place. “Doesn’t matter, lamb chop. Wherever you take a job will be just fine.”
He took a bite of cookie and nodded, the oatmeal sticking in his mouth. He hated disappointing her, and somehow he had.
She followed his lead, nibbling on the cookie with a sour face. “Oatmeal and whiskey aren’t the best combination.”
“Nope.”
They sat a little farther apart and drank some more whiskey, but Russell no longer wanted to try for a kiss.
Chapter 3
“Three more laps, then head backstage.” Russell stood on the deck, fists planted on his hips, the cuffs of his white button-down shirt rolled to just below his elbows.
“Will whoever’s closest splash the penguin on the deck?” Susie giggled, sending a small wave in Russell’s direction.
Annette jumped at the chance to tease him. “Yeah, cuz. You going to church tonight?”
“Swim, ladies.” Russell put some backbone into his tone, more than willing to pull Susie and Annette out of the pool for a quick ten sit-ups if they gave him too much trouble. His aunt had hired him to be the assistant coach, dammit, and he meant to do his best.
Susie took off for her warm-up laps, and with a solid dolphin kick, Annette did the same. Her wave came so close to the hem of his slacks, he had to hop out of the way. He’d never admit it to the girls, but he liked dressing nice for opening night. He had a navy suit jacket stashed in the men’s locker, along with a silk tie. Green, for luck.
An hour later, over five thousand people crowded the grandstands to watch the Aqua Dears, the Aqua Darlings, and the divers put on their show against a rose-and-plum sunset, the kind ordained by Hollywood. Even the ducks paddling along the edge of the lake outside the theater seemed impressed.
Russell had staked out a spot at the end of the front row, making notes for later. Aunt Maude watched from the wings, wearing a smart pink dress with pearls around her neck and white gloves. The girls swam well, the crowd loved the show, and Russell was just as impressed by the trumpet solo the second time around.
Afterwards, he found Susie behind the brick building near the edge of the lake. Annette was with her, along with the trumpet player and his short, dark-eyed friend.
“Russell!” Susie squealed when she saw him, excitement tinged with guilt.
“Susie, Annette,” he said, standing in a pool of light from the lamp on the corner of the building, while the others were in the shadows near the shore.
Susie introduced him to her new friends Ryker and Skip. “Ryker wants us to go with them to hear a band play, Russ. Do you think we can escape your aunt’s clutches?”
Russell didn’t move, letting her come to him. She grasped the open edges of his jacket with a conspiratorial wink. Annette had her hands clasped behind her back and her breasts aimed at Skip, the trumpet player.
He dropped an arm around Susie’s shoulders, deliberately proprietary. He dared a circumspect glance at Skip, but the trumpet player was staring out over the water. Fair enough. “Sure, Sus. We can meet them after lights out.”
A rumble from the direction of the parking lot announced the bus’s return.
“You all are staying over at the university, aren’t you?” Ryker aimed his question at all of them.
“Yeah, at Hansee Hall,” Susie answered.
Ryker raised an eyebrow at Skip.
“I don’t know either.” Skip shrugged. “I’m not the college boy.”
“Forty-fifth and Twentieth,” Russell said, earning a half smile from the trumpet player. Annette interrupted them with a giggle and a toss of her hair. Skip appeared interested in her performance, and Russell’s little flicker of excitement died as if someone had pinched the wick of a candle. A moment later, his aunt’s whistle blast curtailed their conversation.
Annette kept a possessive hand on Skip’s arm. “We can meet you somewhere at midnight.”
“Walk over to University Avenue,” Ryker said.
Skip stepped away from Annette, as casually as if he hadn’t noticed her womanly curves. “We’ll pick you up.”
After a brief flurry of nervous conversation and a second whistle blast, the trio headed to the bus, leaving the musicians behind.
The bus dropped them off about forty-five minutes before one of the chaperones went door-to-door announcing lights out. Russell’s dorm room had cove ceilings, stone floors, and the pervasive smell of old soup, and his mattress squealed in pain when he sat down. Next door, his aunt rustled around, and muffled giggles from overhead told him the swimmers were settling in for the night.
Fifteen minutes after lights out, Russell cracked his door open.
He let the girls go first so he could make sure no one heard them leave. He had pulled a couple of bills out of his emergency fund, money he’d earned working for his father’s farm supply business over school breaks. He didn’t have much, barely enough to tide him over till he landed a job. Which he would do, as soon as he got back from the Aqua Dears’ tour.
If he couldn’t find anything better, he’d be selling fertilizer again.
In the dormitory’s common room, one small table lamp created a pool of light in the corner. A choking snore from the direction of his aunt’s room disrupted the heavy quiet. Doubt curled out of the shadows, setting the stage for his internal debate.
After three years of law school, he was very good at defending a position.
Convincing the girls to stay at the dorm would avoid any of the trouble that would trigger his aunt’s ire. The opposite side—either the prosecution or defense, he wasn’t sure—argued that adventure was the whole reason for making this trip. Sneaking out with Susie for a night of rock ’n’ roll was the kind of thing he’d signed up for.
Russell took a moment to review each assertion, then stretched his arms over his head and arched back to work out the kinks in his shoulders and spine. It was an old swimmer’s habit, but he wouldn’t get a really good stretch until he led the girls in calisthenics in the morning.
The judge ruled in favor of adventure.
If they got busted, he’d be there to keep the girls out of trouble. And if they didn’t, well, it’d be worth the risk. Decision made, he listened to the sleeping quiet, excitement percolating through his gut. After giving the girls a five-minute head start, he joined them in the alley.
“This way.” He grabbed Susie’s hand and Annette’s elbow and marched them down to 40th Street. Once they were away from the dormitory, both girls erupted in giggles.
“Russell, you are the most,” Annette said. “I like having you as a chaperone.”
Russell smirked but didn’t respond. Both girls wore narrow trousers and short-sleeved blouses, though Annette’s pants were tighter and she’d left a couple of her blouse buttons open. She was the fast one, the kind of girl a guy could take liberties with. Susie barely reached her shoulder, a perfect little green-eyed doll. Her high-heeled pumps lifted her from tiny to just short. They were both pretty enough to turn Russell into a bulldog. They saw fun and adventure where he saw strange men ready to make their move.
“Since you and Susie are jacketed, I get to choose between Skip and Ryker,
right?”
Annette’s flirtatious giggle got a snort from Russell.
“Shut up, Annette,” Susie said. “Ryker’s too short for you anyway.”
“You’re right. I like tall boys, and Skip’s handsome enough. We’ll look like a couple of movie stars together.”
Unaccountably irritated, Russell picked up the pace, walking so quickly, Susie had to skip to keep up.
University Street was crowded, but an old Buick with a blunt nose and bulging wheel wells pulled up to the curb and flashed its lights. Skip was driving, Annette called dibs on the front seat, and soon Russell, Susie, and Ryker were packed in the back.
In a couple of blocks, the streets quieted, but instead of the rows of boxy houses, Russell’s attention was caught on Skip’s hair, slicked in place with pomade, the trim curls falling in rows to the back of his neck.
Waiting at a red light, Skip twisted around, catching Russell’s eye. “Doing okay?”
Caught. Russell’s guard went up. Ryker and Susie were hot in a conversation he’d long since given up trying to follow. “Sure. What year is this machine?”
“Nineteen forty-eight.” Skip looked him over, making Russell conscious of his rumpled trousers, open jacket, and loosened tie.
Surprise held Russell still for the extended appraisal. He told himself the way Skip chewed on his lower lip wasn’t meant to tease, and his slow smile couldn’t have been an invitation. He told himself the heat building in his groin would fade away.
The light turned green. Annette turned and bounced onto her knees to check out the back seat.
“Isn’t this swell?” she asked, showering them with bright-eyed excitement.
Swell. Russell sat straighter and shook his jacket closed. Ryker had an arm draped along the top of the seat, almost but not quite touching Susie, who was explaining the finer points of water ballet, tapping his knee with her index finger for emphasis. Russell shifted again, and the flask in his inner coat pocket rubbed against his ribs. He brought it out, and everyone took a hit, everyone except Skip, who kept his hands on the steering wheel and asked for a rain check.