Little Did I Know: A Novel (9 page)

The house was decorated to replicate a yacht. The floors were buffed white and shimmered. The sofa and accompanying love seats were casually dressed in rich blue canvas trimmed in white. A floor-to-ceiling window mirrored nothing but the sea. A cream-colored chenille throw was draped over the couch and a lush carpet sat in front. The walls were wheat yellow and pristine. All the glassware was crystal. Just to the left of the window sat a fireplace with crackling, crisp, hissing logs. A galley kitchen stood to one side, well appointed with a wet bar and all you needed to prepare a feast. It spoke of money and it spoke to me.

Staged photos hung orderly on the wall. Smiling models in happy family hugs and smiles, and the requisite puppy. Although posed, these pictures were warm and appealing. For fun I imagined Veronica’s face and mine on the gleeful mom and dad.

She called from one of the rooms off the hall. “Sam, close the door. It’s freezing in here. Take off your wet clothes and give them to me.” She reached out from the doorway all bare shoulders and long, naked legs. Her wet hair was plastered to her face, her makeup all but gone. I gave her my shirt, sweatshirt, socks, and my only pair of jeans.

“
All
your clothes! I’m throwing everything in the dryer.”

I complied and gave her my underwear. In return she handed me a thick terry-cloth robe. Then she instructed me to check the fire and relax on the couch. I found my way to the sofa and looked out the window, seeing nothing but darkness.

After a moment, Veronica entered from the hallway. She was wearing an identical robe and hugged herself as if she were cold. Her hair and been swept off her face and she had reapplied her lip gloss. She was a vision in simplicity and promise. She walked to the wet bar and asked me what I wanted to drink.

“What are my choices?” I asked.

“Let’s see here,” she said as she sorted through the bottles. “We have brandy, brandy, and . . . brandy. What do you think?”

“I’ll have a brandy.”

“Good choice.”

She generously filled two large crystal snifters. Then taking long, lithe steps, she walked over and plopped herself down on the couch next to me. “This should warm you up,” she said, handing me a glass. She leaned in close and wiped the rain from my brow with the sleeve of her robe. I put my brandy down and took her glass, placing it carefully on the floor. Then I moved as close to her as one could without joining at the hip. I looked into her eyes, stroked her hair for a brief moment, and then leaned in to kiss her.

She jumped from the couch and quickly moved away. She retied the sash on her robe, putting all body parts off limits, and reached down for our brandies. She handed mine to me, then took a long drink, motioning for me to do the same. She smiled like she had a secret, or many secrets. Ones that I really wanted to know.

I
stood up to gather my thoughts and allow my heartbeat to return to normal. I remained aroused, my boner poked through my robe like Pinocchio’s nose after telling a pack of lies. I realized how difficult it was to have an intimate conversation when one could use your penis as a hat rack. I paced and thought about Willie Mays in an effort to get smaller. I sat back down a few inches from Veronica, who remained tantalizing and naked under white, fluffy terry cloth.

“Okay, doll, where are we?”

“This is the model home for the sales office,” she answered as if my query was so simple it didn’t merit a response. “The company my mother works for has the cleaning contract on the entire complex. I borrowed the key.”

“Got it. Who’s Sidney?”

“Sidney is a distant cousin of my father’s. Although not actually an uncle, he has played that role in the family for years. Sid had a successful charter boat long before I was born. During the off-season he’d work with my dad.” She paused. “About two years ago he got in some serious trouble and Barrows only made the situation worse.”

The wind continued to howl outside our window. One of the logs in the fireplace popped, sounding like a gunshot. I jumped a couple of inches off the sofa. Veronica clearly noticed and I felt a tad foolish.

“What kind of trouble?” I asked.

“Sidney lost his wife and started doing crazy things. He got in fights in town, chased young women, drank too much, and made a lot of bad bets with the wrong people. He owed a lot of money and these people were threatening him. He went to Barrows’s local bank to take out a loan on his boat. He wanted to fix his mistakes and thought that would be the end of it. Barrows agreed, the bank agreed, and then at the eleventh hour reneged on the deal and Sidney was fucked. The guys he owed the money to beat him up really bad. They forced him to sell the boat to stop any further trouble.”

“You mean there’s a mob in Plymouth? I thought there were only clam shacks? This sucks.”

“Sam, don’t be so naive. We’re forty miles from Boston. Small towns have bad people just like the big city does. My brother is in prison for Christ’s sake. Shit happens.”

I stared at Veronica. She had dealt with some real shit. The stuff that I only read about or had seen in movies. I had underestimated her in all the ways women hate. I’d typed her as a vixen. I was a shallow idiot.

“Why does everyone hate Lizzy Barrows?” I asked.

Veronica’s face flushed with anger. “Because she’s a whore. She sticks her big tits in everyone’s face and thinks that will get her what she wants. She’s like twelve years old and she married that old man for his money. She helps send my brother to prison and she gets a new Mercedes. She spreads her legs as easy as warm butter on hot toast. She has no discretion and . . .” She stopped to breathe. “Enough. I have a question, Mr. August.”

“Shoot.”

“Would you like to take a shower and go to bed?”

“Let me think about that for a moment . . .
Yes!”
I shouted, too loud and too eager.

Her hips swayed past me and I watched with great attention as she made her way to the shower. Halfway down the hall she dropped her robe; I watched her walk naked into the bathroom until she closed the door. After a beat she stuck her head out again and said, “It’s late and cold. We can drive home in the morning. There’s a shower in the guest room, and towels and a toothbrush in the closet. There are sweat pants in the dresser that you can wear to bed. Don’t get the wrong idea. You and I will not be getting naked together tonight nor any night. I think you are simply wonderful, but fate needs timing, and for us the clock is all askew.” Then she blew me a kiss and slowly closed the door.

I stood there for a moment and watched the last log in the fireplace turn from ember to ash. I looked down the hall to where Veronica’s spectacular butt had disappeared and shouted with false indignation. “Naked! I wouldn’t want to see you naked if you were the last woman on earth. I am not interested in seeing a woman like you naked. The idea of seeing you naked makes me want to stick pins in my eyes!”

I waited for any response but all I heard was the water running and Veronica singing “I’m Just a Girl Who Can’t Say No.” I walked to the guest shower and turned the water on nuclear hot. I disappeared into a haze of steam, any thoughts of carnal delights with Veronica going down the drain with the scalding water. I got out after only a couple of minutes. I figured the sooner I got to sleep the less confused I would be about her behavior and the events of the past twenty-four hours.

V
eronica drove Route 3A at close to seventy miles an hour. The speed limit was thirty, checked by radar. I was following in my waterlogged Mustang. It was just minutes past eleven-thirty in the morning and her shift began at noon. The rain continued angry and cold, accompanied by a vicious wind off the sea. The sky was black as night. Miraculously, we arrived without incident at the Beach View, at which point I drew a breath for the first time that morning.

Veronica parked in front of the motel office, ran through the rain and sat next to me in my car. She kissed me chastely on the cheek and said, “Gotta get ready for work. See you tonight at eight. Souza’s by the wharf. I’ll get Kellie to be Secunda’s date. He’ll love her. She’s cute and loose. Some might even call her slutty.” Then she took my face in both her hands and said sweetly, “Thanks for last night, Sam. I had a wonderful, wonderful time.” Then she kissed me on the mouth so softly that if I hadn’t been paying such close attention I would have missed it. “You really are a gentlemen. Why couldn’t we have met earlier when life was simpler, or ten years from now when we might turn into something magical?”

She danced away through the heavy raindrops to begin her day. I thought it
was
magical. And if we had met much earlier in life, we both would have been just learning to read.

I began the trudge back to my room to wait for Secunda and friends. As I reached the stairs I spotted his red Alpha followed by a woody Jeep Wagoneer. Both cars arrived at breakneck speed, leaving a wide wake behind them. James and JB remained in the Jeep. Secunda quickly exited his convertible. He was wearing his trademark outfit, protected from the elements by a western duster that stopped just short of the pavement. He came up to me and offered a wide, welcoming grin and a firm handshake. “Nice day,” he said. “Did you order it special for me? Just to be safe,
I’ll
order dinner.” He looked around. “You’re actually staying here?”

“Yup.”

“Do I have to?”

“Rooms are already booked and guaranteed on your credit card. Also, we got you a date for dinner. I met her. She’s extremely cute and, according to local legend, extremely loose.”

As the words came out of my mouth, I realized how incredibly stupid guys were and felt some shame over being one of the pack. I sloshed over to James and JB and tapped on the window, which JB cracked an inch or two. The car smelled of weed and cigarettes. James smoked pot and JB was never without a Lucky Strike. Together they smelled like an ashtray.

“You have the stuff?” I inquired. JB nodded and James offered a thumbsup.

“Follow me,” I said. I waded across the gravel and got into Secunda’s car.

I became extremely anxious the moment we left the parking lot. I felt as if my judgment or my vision was suddenly on the line. I had talked up this opportunity for weeks now. I had waxed eloquent with Secunda and friends about how perfect the place was and now I was about to stand naked before my peers. I wished the weather were better. I was certain the place would look more inviting under a blue sky and blazing yellow sun.

Secunda was taking the old, winding highway slowly. The Priscilla Beach Theatre was three miles ahead on the ocean side of Rocky Hill Road. Old porch-front homes, small beach cottages, an occasional home trailer, and big, modern sun palaces reaching toward the sky lined both sides of the road, all standing unwelcoming under the endless gray, pelting rain. There was not a single person in sight. Secunda drove silently, taking it all in, his expression stoic and unchanging. On our left the ocean swirled restlessly some three hundred feet below. I was feeling tense and wondered if I’d oversold things.

We took the last S-curve and got to the theater. My worries instantly disappeared. The place was my Oz and Rocky Hill Road was built out of bright yellow bricks. My spirits soared. The old marquee, though in need of gallons of fresh paint, had great character and radiated gravitas. The drive-in movie lettering hung randomly from the signage spelling out gibberish, yet all I saw was
CURTAIN AT 8. BOX OFFICE NOW OPEN
!

The large, circular driveway was in gritty disrepair. The rain had left the potholes overflowing with muddy water. A truckload of white gravel, some sunshine, and a summer ocean breeze would fix that within the blink of an eye. The two large farmhouses that flanked the entire north side of the property stood strong, protective, and inviting. They too could use a coat of fresh paint but at the moment that was of little consequence. An enormous maple towered above the houses and canopied the redwood picnic table that rested nearby. A converted icehouse that functioned as a small, somewhat funky office complemented the compound. A large parking area off to the left sat opposite the houses. The lot resembled a manicured fairway and the deep, lush green grass added a wash of color to the grounds.

Straight on about two hundred yards from the road was the theater. It was dark red and weathered, but despite its worn exterior it stood nobly against the drenching rain. It was magnificent. The theater was surrounded by a railed, planked deck with benches and plantings spaced every few feet or so. Near the entrance to the building was a horizontal hatch that when pulled open would reveal a concession stand large enough to serve everything from snacks to cocktails. The magic words
BOX OFFICE
were lettered over a small window just to the right of the front-of-house doorway, and a breathtaking sign hanging below the ticket window read
THIS PERFORMANCE SOLD OUT
. About forty feet from the front entrance stood three stunning dogwoods all in full spring bloom, a blizzard of white and pink petals that only Mother Nature could have manufactured.
Amazing
, I thought.
This is simply amazing.

We all sat for a few minutes. I knew Secunda was in the fold. He nodded his head slightly, as if bopping to some percussive beat. His stoic expression had turned into one of measurable mirth. A Chinese fire drill ensued. The car doors opened and we formed a small circle under the hundred-year-old maple. The rain bled through its leaves and landed on us intermittently.