Becca (12 page)

“Come on, light my fire,”
she sang to him, poking him with a finger, and winking. She leaned into him,
brushing her breasts against him and giggling, then moving back to watch his
reaction.

Bert stopped dancing and
watched her. She winked at him again and turned around a couple of times before
moving in on him again and taking his hands in hers and smiling at him. She
tugged at him, forcing him to start moving, though he was no match for her, but
she would not let him go and once more turned and then was against him, her
face inches from his, her eyes sparkling, her full lips puckering. She kissed
his nose then let go of his hands and danced away from him, giggling and as the
music faded, she was back against him, taking his hands and holding him as if
afraid that someone was going to snatch him away from her.

“Let’s sit down, Josh,”
she said. “My leg is killing me.”

She took his hand and led
him back to the table, walking with a noticeable limp.

“Are you okay?” Bert
asked.

“Yeah,” she said and
drank from her Coke. “Just a cramp.”

“It looks like more than
a cramp to me.”

“Nope. I’m okay.” She
smiled. “But I don’t think I can dance anymore tonight.”

They sat in silence for a
while, enjoying the music and watching the crowd. After a few minutes, Becca
said, “Josh, you want to go? You don’t mind?”

“Nope.”

As Becca walked to the
door with Bert, she limped and leaned against him for support.

“I’ll get the car,” Bert
said. He was back in a couple of minutes and opened the passenger door for her.
“How’s your leg?” Bert asked.

“Throbbing.”

Once in the car, Bert
asked. “Where does it hurt?”

She took his hand and
guided it to her right thigh, sliding up her dress and placing his fingertips
against the hot softness of her thigh. She pressed his hand against her and
winced. “Right there.”

“Yeah, I feel something.”

“Okay, Mister,” Becca
said and lifted his hand from her thigh. “That’s your feely for tonight.”

“Hey,” he said in mock
anger, “I was feeling a lump, not your leg.”

“I just didn’t want it to
move somewhere else, you know?”

“The lump
moves?”

“Your
hand,
silly.”

“Trust me, Rebecca
Abigail
Smith; I would never take advantage of you.”

“You wouldn’t get very
far if you tried, Josh.”

“Seriously, Becca. I
woudn’t.”

“And seriously, you
wouldn’t get far.” She smiled. “But I appreciate your sincerity.”

“So, are we going to sit
here all night or is there someplace you want to go?”

“Gas. We need gas, and
then we’ll figure where we’re going next. There’s a station just down the road.
Turn right at the bottom of the drive.”

“Why?” Becca asked as
Josh maneuvered down the narrow drive to the main road.

“Why what?”

“Why wouldn’t you take advantage
of me?”

“You have a boyfriend.”

“Wrong. You know the deal
there. Try again.”

“We…um…well—” Josh paused
and smiled, then scratched his head. He was at the stop sign and waiting for
cars to pass so he could turn. “I guess…we’re…”

“Speechless,” Becca said.
“Look at you, you can’t talk. Maybe you don’t want to take advantage because
you don’t find me attactive.”

“Who told you that you
were
attractive?”

“So that’s it, Josh? You
don’t find me attractive, or desirable?”

“You see right through
me, don’t you.”

“Why do you hang out with
me?”

“Excuse me. You’re the
one that always seems to be hanging around
me.”

“Take me home, Josh,
right now.” She crossed her arms.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“How about I take you to
my place—”

“Why would I want to go
to
your
place?”

“Well, this
is
your
car. If I take you home, I’ll be stuck.”

“You can call cab.”

“Becca…come
on…
I
was joking.”

“About what?”

“About—”

She punched his shoulder
playfully and giggled. “I
knew
it. You
do
find me attractive and
desirable.”

Bert laughed and shook
his head. “Becca…sheesh.”

“Okay, buckaroo…so why
wouldn’t you take advantage of me?”

Bert sighed. “You really
want the truth”

“Not if I’m not going to
like it, no. Tell me a lie.”

“It’s not me…to…um…do
that. You know?”

“No kidding.”

“You think I’m that kind
of guy that
would
do something like that?”

“No, Josh, I don’t think
you are. Thank you.”

Bert slowed as he
approached the gas station. “But I’m curious,” he said. “Let’s say I
did
try
and take advantage of you…you said I wouldn’t get very far. You would you
reject me?”

“Of course—if you’re
trying to take advantage of me.”

“And if I wasn’t…I
mean…if we—”

“Are you asking me would
I have sex with you if I thought you weren’t trying to take advantage of me?

“Oh, Becca…sheesh—”

She giggled. “Look at
your face, Josh. It’s all red.” She waved a finger at him. “Nope I think I
won’t answer that.”

Bert stopped the car
beside the pumps. “Why not?”

“Because, if you must know, I don’t know
how
to answer you.” She favored him with a sad smile. “Now tell this guy to
fill the tank so we can get on with our evening.”

VII

As the attendant filled
the tank, Bert excused himself for the restroom. When he returned, he saw that
Becca was behind the wheel. He got in the passenger side as Becca paid for the
gas.

“I feel like driving,”
she said.

Becca rolled the window
down and turned up the radio. The cool September air filled the car with the
hint of autumn, and blew Becca’s hair about. Bert watched her, and listened to
her sing along with the songs on the radio. Her face wore a constant smile, and
she would shoot him sidelong glances with her sparkling eyes. Once she jabbed
his arm to add emphasis to the verse of the song she was singing. He didn’t
speak because he felt it would break the mood.

Becca turned down the
radio now and said, “Rub my leg, Josh. You know where.” She rubbed her right
thigh and kept her fingertips there until Bert touched her and then she moved
her hand away. “Not too hard. Yeah, like that.” She winced. “It feels good when
you do that, but it hurts at the same time.”

Her skin had the texture
of hot silk. He rubbed with his fingertips, pausing every now and then. “You’re
going to a doctor, right?”

“Yes. Okay, that’s enough
‘cause now it’s starting to really hurt.”

Becca turned onto a
two-lane road with few houses and woods that pushed to the shoulder.

“You seem to have a
destination in mind,” Bert said.

“Yup. The hatchet man.”

“The hatchet man? What is
it?”

“You’ll see in a minute.”

Becca slowed almost to a
stop and then turned left into a narrow track that led slightly downhill. The
headlights picked up a makeshift parking area. Another car was there, its
lights out and looking deserted. Becca maneuvered as far away from the other
car as she could. She carefully turned the Mustang around so that she faced the
main road and cut the engine.

“Parking?” Bert said,
“We’re going parking?”

“You have a problem with
that?”

“Well, no. But—”

“Sssh!” Becca leaned her
head out her window. “Listen. Hear him?”

The sound. The hatchet
man. An incessant slicing sound, as if someone was hacking away at a tree—or a
body. It was steady, unrelenting and in the darkness and quiet of the night, it
prayed on your nerves and could stand up the hair on the back of your head.

“He’s coming for us,” she
said, grabbing Bert’s arm and giving a playful squeeze.

“I think he’ll take them
first,” Bert nodded at the other car. There was no movement in the other car,
but the rolled up windows were steamed.

“Maybe he already did.”

When Becca said that the
crickets stopped, and the parking area became deathly quiet, except for the
hatchet man. “Oh God,” she said, shivering involuntarily. “Creepy, huh.”

“Yes.”

She let go of his arm and
turned up the volume of the radio slightly so it muffled the hatchet man. She
kicked off her shoes and sat cross-legged on the driver’s seat. She smiled at
him, checked herself in the mirror, and then turned off the light. “So, Josh,”
she said, “here we
are
.”

“Yes, we are here,” Bert
said.

Becca giggled. “You sound
nervous.”

“Nervous? No. Scared? Yes.
That hatchet man is getting to me.”

“I hadn’t planned this,
you know.”

“This? Sitting here in
the car listening to the hatchet man?”

She giggled but said
nothing for a few moments. “I just want you to know that.”

They both jumped when the
engine of the other car started and its headlights came on. They laughed and
watched the car drive away.

“Well,” Bert said, “at
least we know the hatchet man didn’t get them.”

A short silence ensued.

“Have you ever gone
parking before?” Becca asked after a few moments.

He felt embarrassed in
having to say no. “Sure.”

“With whom?”

“I don’t remember her
name.”

“Wow, she couldn’t have
been special.”

“She wasn’t.”

“So it was a complete
waste of time.”

He sighed. “I’ve never
done this.”

“I know. I don’t see you
as a lover’s lane kind of guy. I’ve never done this before, either. Hard to
believe, huh.”

“Well, no. I mean, why
would someone want to sit in a car on the side of the road with you is beyond
me.”

“You are.”

“I have no choice.”

“You can leave.”

“I don’t know where the
hell I am.”

“Josh, you—” She paused
and changed course. “I enjoyed this evening.”

“So did I.”

“Do you want to do this
again?”

“Sure.”

“Oh, geeze, don’t sound
so enthusiastic.”

“Sorry. I’d like that. Really,
I’d like that.”

“You don’t mind that we
just sit here?”

“Why would I mind?”

She shrugged. “I mean—you
don’t have any hopes do you?”

“Of what?”

She giggled. “You are
something else, Bertram Leslie Martin Junior. It amazes me that you don’t have
a girlfriend.”

“It amazes me sometimes.”

“Seriously now, why not?”

“Seriously now—I told
you.”

“Oh,” she detected a
slight trace of anger to his answer so she let the matter drop. “Anyway,
I…didn’t bring you here to do anything, if you know what I mean.”

“I think we covered this
subject on the way here.”

“Disappointed?”

“Nope.”

“Really?”

“You sound disappointed
that I’m not disappointed.”

“No, I’m not—well maybe a
little.”

“Okay, then let’s say I
am greatly disappointed.”

She laughed. “Wow, that’s
convincing.”

She straightened her legs
out, and winced because her right thigh felt as though someone had punched her
there and left the fist behind. She ignored it. “I’m glad Greg and I have our
agreement.”

“Your agreement—oh about
you seeing other guys.”

“Yes. But not guys. Guy.”

“The one who meets your
two stringent qualifications.”

“Yes.”

“The one you’re going to
put the move on.”

“Yes.”

“The one you’re not sure
will
want
you to put a move on him.”

“Yes.”

“What happens if he
rejects you?”

“Josh, look at me, how
can he resist? So…now it’s your turn Mr. Martin. What would you do if I tried to
take advantage of you?”

“Ah, see, it’s different
for a guy. We wouldn’t care.”

“Who’s we? What about
you?” She poked him with her finger.

“I don’t think you
would.”

“Not an answer,
buckaroo.”