April North by Lawrence Block

potato bin, and with all that equipment any low-grade moron could have cooked dinner. Craig built a fire in the pit and she wrapped the potatoes in foil and tucked them away in the coals, then smeared the steaks with a little salt and a speck of pepper and chucked them onto the fire. The steaks came off the fire burned on the outside and raw in the middle, just as they should be, and the potatoes, improved with a tablespoon of sour cream and some chopped chives, were fine.
    “You’re a good cook,” he told her.
    “It was tricky.”
    “But good.”
    “How about dessert?”
    “I know exactly what I want for dessert, little girl.”
    “Oh?”
    “Don’t smirk at me. Yes, I know what I want for dessert. I want you for dessert.”
    “It sounds like fun,” she said. “But I’ll go hungry. Did you ever think of that?”
    “I thought of it.”
    “Well?”
    He sighed mightily. “April,” he said, “you have a lot to learn, little girl.”
    “I do?”
    “Yes.”
    “Teach me, Craig.”
    He smiled gently. “You shall have dessert, too,” he told her. “I could hardly bear to eat while another went hungry. Do you understand, April?”
    And, some moments later, they were head-over-heels in love.
    A few minutes past nine, she left the Mercedes and walked to her front door. The door was open. She went in and her mother and father were waiting for her in the living room. She kissed them both hello, hoping the brushing she had given her teeth was sufficiently thorough.
    Her mother took her to one side. “I mentioned that I wanted to talk to you, April.”
    “Yes, Mom?”
    “Let’s go upstairs, dear. I don’t want to upset your father, April.”
    They went upstairs, Mrs. North leading and April close behind her. Whatever Mom had heard about Craig, April thought, was undoubtedly true. Well, she would have to find a way to talk Mom out of what was bothering her. If her mother ordered her to stop seeing Craig there was going to be trouble. Because she would not dream of giving Craig up.
    But the talk would not go that far, she thought. Maybe her mother was just going to give her the usual sex talk, and don’t-let-boys-put-fingers-up-you routine, the save-it-for-your-husband bit. The old lady would probably fall over in a faint if she knew there was nothing left to save for a husband.
    They went into April’s room, closed the door. April sat on the edge of the bed while her mother took the one chair and planted her ample rump upon it.
    “April—”
    “Yes, Mom?”
    Mrs. North sighed. “This may be difficult for both of us,” she said. “Especially after the approval I’ve voiced over your Craig. But I’ve asked around about him, April, and—”
    “Why, Mom?”
    “Why, because you’re dating him, dear. A mother wants to know the sort of young man her daughter is seeing.”
    “I see.”
    “And what I’ve heard is not—well, not exactly favorable. There are rumors about that boy, April.”
    There are probably more rumors about your own daughter, she wanted to say. How had her mother missed hearing about her? Everyone else in town seemed to know that April North was no longer a virgin. But her mother existed in a calm little dream world, untouched by truth.
    She asked, “What kind of rumors?”
    Mrs. North sighed again. “It’s hard for me to tell you, April. He seems pleasant enough, but people in town have told me he’s a mite wild. That he dates girls and seduces them—and he drives around in that car of his at very fast speeds and runs with a fast crowd. He drinks a great deal and—”
    It was time for a counter-offensive.
    “Mother,” she said, “if you had told me this yesterday I wouldn’t have believed you. But now I know what you mean. I understand.”
    “Did he—”
    “Try anything? No, he didn’t. Can I start at the beginning, Mom?”
    “Why, of course.”
    She gathered her forces, her verbal soldiers. “I talked to Craig today,” she said. “After I spoke to you. I mentioned