without arousing any suspicion in Mr. Hamilton.”
“Why should he care? From what I understand, the college guysdon’t have much to do with the people who live in West End anyway.”
“That may be true, but Blue Hamilton doesn’t strike me as the kind of man who would take kindly to anything
untoward
happening in his own backyard.”
“Even if his wife stands to make a sizable commission on the deal?”
“Don’t kid yourself. He doesn’t care about money any more than I do.”
“I know that, but still …
Oh! Stop! Serena, stop!
” Scylla was on her feet waving her hand at the television excitedly. “That’s it! That’s the movie I’ve been telling you about. The one where Thandie Newton does our dance.
Watch!
It’s coming up right now!”
Serena did as she was told, glad for a reason to change the subject. She needed more information before offering a definitive opinion on Mr. Hamilton.
“That’s Gerard Butler,” Scylla whispered as he began to dance in front of Thandie Newton, who was seated on a low settee at some kind of very cool party, smoking one of those long thin cigarettes that mysterious, multiracial women at very cool parties always smoke in Guy Ritchie movies. When he asks her to dance, she looks at him and then stands up slowly, or rather sort of unfolds in front of him.
“Watch her now!”
Scylla whispered urgently, as if Serena’s attention might wander at the crucial moment.
“Watch her!”
As soon as she started to move, Serena immediately understood Scylla’s excitement. The actress was doing their signature dance like she had been born for it. Thandie had taken as her own the almost graceful, almost herky-jerky, undeniably strange, somewhat spidery, often slithery, always sexy thing that had made them famous, and she was
doin’ it to death
, the highest compliment a vampire could offer.
“I can’t believe it,” Serena said admiringly. “She’s amazing.”
“I told you,” Scylla said. “Is that our shit or what?”
“It’s absolutely
our shit,
” Serena said, although she usually didn’t curse. “No question.”
“Did you know she was …”
Serena shook her head quickly. “She’s not one of us. Maybe she’s just … maybe she’s just really a great dancer.”
“You got that right! Look at her go!”
Thandie slithered over closer to her partner, who was trying to figure out if it was possible to have sex with this strangely gyrating, birdlike creature, or if this was as close as he was going to get. Scylla and Serena, both standing now, moved a little closer to the television and began to sway in unison just like they had done in the video that catapulted them to the top of the pop heap. Their movements mirrored Thandie’s without the two even consulting each other, so that the three women seemed to be doing the same choreography.
“So you don’t care about money, huh?” Scylla said, without taking her eyes off the actors.
“No.” Serena didn’t look away either.
On the screen, Thandie turned her back to Gerard and shook her tiny little ass in his direction.
“So what do you care about?”
Serena stopped moving and looked at Scylla, who stopped right with her. “Nothing,” she said softly. “Not a damn thing.”
“Good,” Scylla said as they started moving again. “Just checking.”
Chapter Thirteen
What She Had to Say
Saturday
It was not unusual for Abbie to leave Peachy sleeping and come up to the small deck at the top of the house to watch the sun rise. She would curl up in one of the rockers, pull her shawl around her, and clear her mind for the day ahead. She loved to watch the dark sky gradually turn from gray to peach to palest blue, all in anticipation of the sun, rising up out of the water bright and majestic on some days, and on others, hidden behind clouds that seemed to blend with the water into one unbroken canvas of mist and mystery.
It was that kind of moist morning and Abbie pulled her shawl a little
“Why should he care? From what I understand, the college guysdon’t have much to do with the people who live in West End anyway.”
“That may be true, but Blue Hamilton doesn’t strike me as the kind of man who would take kindly to anything
untoward
happening in his own backyard.”
“Even if his wife stands to make a sizable commission on the deal?”
“Don’t kid yourself. He doesn’t care about money any more than I do.”
“I know that, but still …
Oh! Stop! Serena, stop!
” Scylla was on her feet waving her hand at the television excitedly. “That’s it! That’s the movie I’ve been telling you about. The one where Thandie Newton does our dance.
Watch!
It’s coming up right now!”
Serena did as she was told, glad for a reason to change the subject. She needed more information before offering a definitive opinion on Mr. Hamilton.
“That’s Gerard Butler,” Scylla whispered as he began to dance in front of Thandie Newton, who was seated on a low settee at some kind of very cool party, smoking one of those long thin cigarettes that mysterious, multiracial women at very cool parties always smoke in Guy Ritchie movies. When he asks her to dance, she looks at him and then stands up slowly, or rather sort of unfolds in front of him.
“Watch her now!”
Scylla whispered urgently, as if Serena’s attention might wander at the crucial moment.
“Watch her!”
As soon as she started to move, Serena immediately understood Scylla’s excitement. The actress was doing their signature dance like she had been born for it. Thandie had taken as her own the almost graceful, almost herky-jerky, undeniably strange, somewhat spidery, often slithery, always sexy thing that had made them famous, and she was
doin’ it to death
, the highest compliment a vampire could offer.
“I can’t believe it,” Serena said admiringly. “She’s amazing.”
“I told you,” Scylla said. “Is that our shit or what?”
“It’s absolutely
our shit,
” Serena said, although she usually didn’t curse. “No question.”
“Did you know she was …”
Serena shook her head quickly. “She’s not one of us. Maybe she’s just … maybe she’s just really a great dancer.”
“You got that right! Look at her go!”
Thandie slithered over closer to her partner, who was trying to figure out if it was possible to have sex with this strangely gyrating, birdlike creature, or if this was as close as he was going to get. Scylla and Serena, both standing now, moved a little closer to the television and began to sway in unison just like they had done in the video that catapulted them to the top of the pop heap. Their movements mirrored Thandie’s without the two even consulting each other, so that the three women seemed to be doing the same choreography.
“So you don’t care about money, huh?” Scylla said, without taking her eyes off the actors.
“No.” Serena didn’t look away either.
On the screen, Thandie turned her back to Gerard and shook her tiny little ass in his direction.
“So what do you care about?”
Serena stopped moving and looked at Scylla, who stopped right with her. “Nothing,” she said softly. “Not a damn thing.”
“Good,” Scylla said as they started moving again. “Just checking.”
Chapter Thirteen
What She Had to Say
Saturday
It was not unusual for Abbie to leave Peachy sleeping and come up to the small deck at the top of the house to watch the sun rise. She would curl up in one of the rockers, pull her shawl around her, and clear her mind for the day ahead. She loved to watch the dark sky gradually turn from gray to peach to palest blue, all in anticipation of the sun, rising up out of the water bright and majestic on some days, and on others, hidden behind clouds that seemed to blend with the water into one unbroken canvas of mist and mystery.
It was that kind of moist morning and Abbie pulled her shawl a little
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