Class of '59 (American Journey Book 4) (16 page)

The not-so-sunny blonde led a friend up the mostly empty bleachers. She stopped about halfway up, looked around for a suitable place to sit, and then continued toward the top. She finally settled on a seat about eight feet to Piper's right. No one sat between them.

"I hear you've been stuffing ballot boxes again," Vicki said. "Where on earth do you get all that money?"

Piper lifted her nose.

"I'm a successful entrepreneur."

"I believe it. You're young and pretty and live in a motel," Vicki said. She grinned. "I'm sure you do quite well."

Piper turned away and fumed. She berated herself for carelessness. Instead of shutting down the ice queen with a clever comment, she had stepped in a pile the size of Mount Whitney.

"Just ignore her," Sally said.

Piper frowned.

"I'm trying."

Piper smoothed the wrinkles from her plaid skirt and returned her attention to the match. She gave Ben a subtle wave when he looked her way.

"I don't know why you bother," Vicki said to Piper. "He's not going to acknowledge you. He wouldn't acknowledge you if you stripped naked in front of the net."

"Don't respond," Sally said.

Piper tapped her fingers on the wooden bench as she pondered the consequences of scratching Vicki's eyes out. She took a breath and turned toward her antagonist.

"Do you really believe that?" Piper asked. "Do you really believe he wouldn't acknowledge me?"

"Yes. I do," Vicki said matter-of-factly. "You're simply not that distracting."

Piper hardened her stare.

"I'm more distracting than you."

"I don't think so," Vicki said.

"Let's put it to a test then," Piper said. She scanned the vicinity for eavesdroppers and then returned to Vicki. "I'll bet you five dollars I can get Ben to miss a serve before you can."

Vicki smiled smugly.

"You're on."

Sally put a hand on Piper's knee.

"I don't think this is a good idea."

Vicki laughed.

"You should listen to your friend."

"I probably should," Piper said. "I should probably walk away and let you wallow in your arrogance, but I'm not. I would much rather rub your nose in it."

Vicki smirked.

"Let's get on with it then."

"Let's do. You can even go first."

"OK."

Vicki turned toward the court and awaited the start of a new game. She called out to her would-be prom king when he bounced the ball and prepared to serve.

"Let's go, Ben! You can do it!"

Ben looked at Vicki and smiled. Then he threw the ball in the air, struck it with a wooden racket, and fired it past his Burbank opponent.

Piper smiled.

"I guess he's focused today."

Vicki huffed.

"I'm just getting started."

Piper laughed.

"Sure you are."

Piper turned away from Vicki, looked at Ben, and considered her first move. She pondered a few creative options but ultimately settled on something simple. She whistled loudly when Ben tossed the second ball skyward. He answered her interruption with an ace and a glare.

Vicki laughed.

"That's precious. You inspired him
and
made him mad."

Piper stared at the blonde.

"Shut up."

Vicki laughed again. She laughed loudly and heartily until Ben retrieved both balls, walked up to the end line, and prepared to serve.

Vicki raised her game the second time around. She called out to Ben, fluffed her thick platinum hair, and batted her lashes.

Ben responded in predictable fashion. He hit a pathetic serve that his opponent returned easily and forcefully. He lost the point after a short volley.

"You're getting better," Piper said. "I guess it's time to get serious."

Vicki raised a brow.

"I guess it is."

Piper turned to Sally.

"What's the score?"

"Ben's up thirty to fifteen," Sally said. "Don't make him lose."

"I won't," Piper said. She giggled. "I'm not that mean."

Piper considered her next move as Ben returned to the service line and bounced a ball. She decided to answer Vicki's creativity with fresh audacity.

"Come on, Ben. Do it for us," Piper said. "Do it for
me
."

Ben again eyed his cheering section.

Piper again tried to distract him. She gazed at Ben seductively, blew him a kiss, and watched with amusement as he served a ball that barely cleared the net.

Piper smiled at Vicki.

"I'm getting closer."

"Zip it!" Vicki snapped. "You're starting to annoy me."

Piper laughed.

"I'm sorry."

Vicki returned to the action. She focused again on Ben but this time did nothing to irritate or distract him. She watched in silence as he aced a serve to take a forty-to-thirty lead.

Vicki did not stay silent for long. She resumed the fight after Ben collected a loose ball, walked toward the line, and glanced at the bleachers.

"Finish him off, Ben," Vicki said. "If you do, I'll bake you something special."

She touched the buttons on her blouse.

Ben apparently liked baked goods. He fired a rocket that raced over the net. The serve put his opponent on the defensive, but it did not put him away. Nor did an equally brutal second shot. The Burbank player regrouped, turned the tables, and rallied to force a tie.

"I like your style," Piper said to Vicki. She smiled. "You're good."

"You can't do this all day," Sally said. "It's not fair to Ben."

Piper pondered the comment and nodded.

"You're right. It's not."

Vicki raised a brow.

"Does that mean you're conceding?"

"No," Piper said. "It means I'm going to show some class. I'm not going to let this escalate into something ridiculous."

Vicki sang a taunting song.

"Someone's backing out. Someone's backing out."

Piper ignored the dig and focused on Ben. She watched him closely as he walked to a corner of the court, collected a ball, and slowly returned to the line.

"Come on, Ben!" Piper said. "You can do it."

Ben responded positively to the positive reinforcement. He tossed the ball in the air, brought his racket forward, and fired a blistering serve past his opponent.

Piper shouted her approval and then shouted it again. She shouted until she forgot all about her pity party with Sally Warner and her silly bet with Vicki Cole.

She smiled at Ben when he dropped to tie a shoe. She still didn't know what she would do with him, but she
did
know she could no longer ignore him. He was as much a part of her fifties experience as the Painted Lady, Midway High School, and poodle skirts.

Piper cheered Ben again when he finished tying his shoe and picked up his racket.

"Come on, Ben. End this
now
," Piper said. "If you do, I'll take you to dinner."

Ben looked at Piper, laughed, and gave her a thumbs up. Then he retrieved a tennis ball from his pocket, threw it in the air, and hit it into the net.

Piper and Sally laughed hard.

"Let me guess," Sally said. "That's not what you had in mind."

Piper smiled and shook her head.

"No. I forgot about the bet."

"Sure you did," Vicki said.

Piper grinned.

"Believe what you want. You owe me five dollars."

Vicki frowned.

"I don't have five dollars."

Piper looked at her disgruntled rival.

"Then get five dollars from you parents," Piper said. "Bring it to school tomorrow and donate it to Mr. West's surgery fund. Or give it to my favorite charity."

"What's that?"

Piper smiled.

"I think you know. Just look for the jar with the fives."

CHAPTER 27: MARY BETH

Los Angeles, California – Friday, April 3, 1959

Mary Beth settled into her chair at her round candlelit table for eight and took a moment to simply breathe. She had found it difficult to breathe since walking into the Ambassador Hotel, a six-story Mediterranean Revival colossus on Wilshire Boulevard.

She gazed at the front of the Embassy Ballroom and tried to imagine Robert Kennedy speaking to supporters in the very same room. She could picture the noisy rally following Kennedy's victory in the California primary on June 4, 1968. She could not picture the chaos following the successful attempt on his life a few hours later.

Then Mary Beth reminded herself that much of the history of the hotel and the world at large had not yet been written. Bobby Kennedy was still alive and well. So were many of the artists who had performed and still would perform in the hotel's famous Cocoanut Grove lounge.

"Are you all right?" Mark asked.

"I'm fine," Mary Beth said. "I'm just a little overwhelmed. I've never been in a place like this. I've never been in a place even remotely like this."

Mark took her hand.

"That's why I asked you to the dance. I knew you would appreciate it."

Mary Beth smiled.

"You asked me to the dance because you needed a
date
."

Six others laughed.

"She has a point, Mark. You didn't give the dance a moment's notice until Wednesday," Margaret Pringle said. She laughed. "You're lucky you found such a nice girl on short notice."

"I can't argue with that," Mark said.

Margaret sipped a martini and then turned toward the woman Mark had introduced as Mary Beth McIntire, a recent graduate of the University of Alabama who had come to Southern California to enroll her younger sister in a local high school. The redheaded English major had already asked many questions about the slim brunette with the southern twang.

"I understand you graduated with a degree in biology," Margaret said. "Is that right?"

Mary Beth nodded.

"I earned a Bachelor of Science degree last semester."

"Are you going into teaching?"

"No," Mary Beth said. "I'm going into medicine. I hope to become a surgeon."

Margaret smiled.

"That's ambitious."

Mary Beth resisted the temptation to say something snotty. She suspected that Margaret meant no offense. She also remembered that most women in 1959 went from diplomas to diapers and rarely ventured beyond the fields of nursing, education, and librarianship.

"I know I'll face obstacles, but I still want to take that path," Mary Beth said. "I want to work in a large hospital and save lives."

"Have you applied to any medical schools?" Margaret asked.

Mary Beth paused before answering. She wanted to tell the truth but did not want to paint herself into a corner. She had no idea which medical schools operated in 1959. She did not know which ones admitted women. So she went with something safe.

"I've applied to several schools in the South. I hope to hear from at least one of them by the end of the month and go from there."

"Have you considered schools in California?" Margaret asked.

"No."

"You should. There are four in Los Angeles alone."

"I didn't know that," Mary Beth said.

"I know it because this big lug applied to them all," Margaret said. She took the hand of the blond man to her left. "Dennis starts classes in Loma Linda this fall."

Mary Beth addressed the lug.

"Have you decided on a specialty?"

"No," Dennis Green said. "I want to consider my options for at least a year before committing to anything."

"That's smart," Mary Beth said. "It's a big decision."

"I think so."

Mary Beth smiled at Dennis, Mark's best friend and Zeta Alpha Rho roommate, and then looked around the linen-covered table. She saw Jack Prince, a tall water polo player; Joyce Gaines, a gymnast with a lovely smile; Carter Williams, the suave rush chairman; and Anita Hutchinson, a bubbly cheerleader who attended the university on a full-ride scholarship.

"Are all of you seniors?" Mary Beth asked.

"I'm not," Joyce said. "Neither is Anita. We're juniors."

Mary Beth nodded.

"What about the rest of you?"

"We're seniors," Jack said.

"What do you plan to do after graduation?" Mary Beth asked.

Jack sipped his drink, a whiskey sour, and looked across the table.

"I intend to enlist in the Navy."

Joyce cleared her throat.

"Excuse me," Jack said. He smiled. "I intend to marry Joyce and
then
enlist in the Navy."

Mary Beth laughed.

"I see you have your priorities in order."

"I do
now
," Jack said.

The others laughed.

"What do you plan to do in the Navy?" Mary Beth asked.

"I hope to fly jets," Jack said. "I'd like to learn a thing or two on Uncle Sam's dime and then try my hand at commercial aviation. I think it has a bright future."

Mary Beth laughed to herself. She wondered what Jack Prince would think of Boeing 747s, Concorde SSTs, and Airbus A380s. She knew what Mark thought of them. He had gushed about modern aircraft and spacecraft several times since learning about them through magazines.

Mary Beth squeezed Mark's hand, gave him a warm smile, and then turned to the rush chairman. She noticed that he seemed in tune with the ongoing conversation.

"What about you, Carter?" Mary Beth asked. "What's next for you?"

"Senator Kennedy is next," Carter said with a distinctive Boston accent. He pulled his arm from Anita's shoulders and looked at Mary Beth. "I start work in his D.C. office in June."

"You know John F. Kennedy?"

Carter nodded.

"I've known him for years. Our families are close."

Mary Beth smiled.

"I'm impressed."

"You shouldn't be," Carter said. "He's just a senator."

Mary Beth grinned.

"I think he's more than that. He's a man with serious potential."

Carter laughed.

"You ought to sit down with my father. He is convinced that Kennedy is going to run for president next year."

"You don't think he will?" Mary Beth asked.

Carter shook his head.

"He'll wait until sixty-four or sixty-eight. I'm sure of it."

Mary Beth glanced at Mark and saw a subtle smile form on his face. She did not know how much he had read or heard about John F. Kennedy, but she suspected that he had read or heard enough to know that the senator would not sit out the 1960 election.