“I think I could use a little more apple cider,” Hal said. “Anybody else?”
Both the women said no.
When Hal was gone, Sally said, “Guess what?”
“What?”
“He French-kissed me tonight.”
“Great.”
“Then he slid his hands down on my bottom while he was still kissing me.”
Amy laughed. “This is going to get pornographic, isn’t it?”
“I certainly hope so. Maybe tonight I’m going to get lucky.”
“I’ll say some prayers.”
“Hey, I hope I didn’t embarrass you. Pushing you so hard about Sam. In front of Hal and everything, I mean.”
“No. Nothing to worry about.”
“I do push too hard sometimes, don’t I?”
Amy smiled. “You? Push too hard? Boy, who could believe a thing like that?”
Amy looked at the doorway, past the men in their cowboy hats, with their beer bellies and contraband cigarettes and cigars.
“You really saw him in there, huh?” Amy said.
“I not only saw him in there. He came up to me and asked if I thought you were coming here tonight.”
“And you said what?”
“I said I sure hoped you were.”
“And he said what?”
“You know, kiddo, this really is like seventh grade.”
“C’mon, he said what?”
“He said, ‘God, I hope she shows up. I sure want to see her.’ He’s one of those guys who isn’t afraid to show a little emotion. I like that. And you should like it, too.”
By this time, Amy’s heart really was hammering. “I do like it. Very much.”
“Then go get him. Grab his hand and throw him to the floor and take advantage of him right there.”
Amy shook her head. “Boy, you really have a lurid imagination.”
“I take that as a compliment.”
Amy smiled. “I know you do.”
Hal came back. “This is the best cider I’ve ever had. I wish they sold it by the quart so you could take some home.”
“Guess what?” Sally said.
“What?”
“Amy’s ready to go inside.”
“Wow,” Hal said. “So they’re going to meet up after all.”
“Yeah, and she’s psyched, too. Aren’t you, Amy?”
But Amy didn’t have much to say at the moment. All she could do was watch the doorway.
Sam stood there in his western clothes, looking not only handsome but cordial, too. He was wearing that slightly sad smile of his Amy liked so much.
4
“I want you to leave me alone, you understand that?”
“You ever think maybe I’m in love with you?”
“Bullshit.”
“It could happen. I’m a normal teenage girl.”
“Yeah, right. Fifteen going on thirty-five.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that you’re not a normal teenage girl.”
“Thanks a lot.”
Ping-Pong was what they were playing, Richie and Darcy.
He’d wanted her to leave fifteen minutes ago but she was still here, sitting across from him in the booth.
The bartender found every excuse possible to come over and see if they wanted anything. He couldn’t take his eyes off Darcy. She was sexy and gorgeous all right.
“Look,” Richie said, trying to sound reasonable, maybe even a little bit paternal, “I’ve got to get my life together. What we did — I shouldn’t ever have gotten involved with you, Darcy. I’ll take the responsibility for that. I really will. But you should be with people your own age.”
“You’re dumping me.”
“God, Darcy. You can’t look at it that way.”
“Why can’t I?”
“Because it’s not the way things are.”
“Oh? And how are things?”
She still sat in the corner, hunched up and angry. Richie sighed. “You should be with people your own age.”
“I hate people my own age.”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t know what you mean, Richie. Tell me.”
He knew she was enjoying herself, playing the sensitive young girl. She was about as sensitive as a prison guard.
“Your whole life is ahead of you, Darcy.”
“Maybe I want you in my life.”
“Look, can we cut the bullshit?”
“You think this is bullshit, Richie? You think this is bullshit?”
“How come you never said any of these things before?”
“Maybe I was afraid, too.”
“Right.”
The bartender was back. “I hate to say this, folks, but the kid has to go. I got the liquor license on the line here.”
Then she was crying.
Richie looked over at her in disbelief.
It was almost like a joke. She was just running a number on him. A gag.
Any moment now, she was going to look up and smile at Richie and the bartender.
“Knock off the bullshit,” Richie said.
“Hey, Richie,” the bartender said, glowering at him. He nodded to Darcy, who now had her head down and was pretending to weep very, very hard. “Poor kid.”
“This is all bullshit.”
“Doesn’t look like bullshit to me, Richie.” He shook his head, then said: “Take her outside, Richie. Now.” Then, to Darcy: “I’m sorry, miss. But I just can’t afford to have you in here. Nothing personal.”
Richie could see that the bartender was still intimidated by Darcy’s tears.
“Here, miss.”
The bartender helped her out of the booth.
She kept up her tears.
The bartender treated her very gently, as if she were aged and infirm.
He got her on her feet and then nodded for Richie to come over and help her.
The jukebox was dead. Everybody was watching. Just standing there, drink in hand, gawking. This was something worth seeing. Richie and some beautiful little jailbait snatch like this one.
The bartender had just turned away, and was walking back to his station, when Darcy let go.
She looked up at Richie with her tear-streaked face and said, in a voice loud enough for everybody to hear, “What if I’m pregnant, Richie? What if I’m pregnant?”
A nightmare. That’s what this was.
Richie was standing there and hearing it loud and clear — “What if I’m pregnant, Richie? What if I’m pregnant?” — but he still couldn’t quite believe her.
Why would she do this to him? Why would she want to destroy him so utterly?
Dumping her. Of course. What she’d just said a few moments ago. That she was being dumped. That’s how she saw this. Her ego. Nobody dumped her. She was the one who did the dumping.
And she wasn’t finished.
“I’m twelve days late with my period, Richie! You know what that means?”
Talk about eating it up. The men and women in the bar just couldn’t believe their luck. Not often in a tacky little sports bar like this one — they really went all out on the decorations, the cheap bastards, a lone Hawkeye football schedule posted between the doors marked Gents and Gals, big deal — not often in a place like this did you get a floor show.
But Richie and the jailbait were really putting on a wild one here.
And Richie upped the ante.
He lunged at her. Grabbed her by the shoulders and started shaking her.
“Hey!” the bartender exploded. He turned on Richie and the girl.
And jumped on Richie, yanking him away from Darcy. “You tryin’ to strangle her? She’s just a kid, you crazy son of a bitch!”
And you could tell, just by watching their faces, that that’s what the customers thought, too.
That Richie had jumped on her and started to strangle her. It all happened so fast.