but enough to be
impressive. He sent them another half smile and a seductive wink. “Thanks. Need
a ride somewhere?”
“We’re
meeting our boyfriends.” Their obvious disappointment pleased him.
With
another squeal of tires, Zane tore off down the road, his eyes peeled for more
prospects. “See, it’s easy. First you act helpless. Women love to mother you.
Then show them you admire them. Not obvious, but with a look.” He gunned the
motor again. “And it doesn’t hurt to impress ‘em.”
By
now Al was laughing. “They ate that up.”
“Your
turn next.”
“Cut
me some slack, man.” Al reached over to turn up the knob of the stereo. “Just
‘cause you have a date with Rita already.”
“I
got four tickets. The band that plays ‘Forever Friends,’ man. You gotta get a
date.” Zane lifted his hands off the wheel.
Suddenly
a bicycle shot out in front of the ‘Vette. Zane grasped the wheel and slammed
on the brakes. The bicycle reached the other side safe enough but crashed when
it hit the curb.
Al
didn’t wait to open his door. He scrambled over the side. Zane followed.
“You
all right?” Al hollered.
Zane
reached them just as Al turned over the prettiest blonde he’d laid eyes on. Her
big blue eyes glanced up at Al. Zane knew his friend was a goner when she
batted heavy lashes.
“I’m
okay. If you could just help me up.”
Still
a little shaken by the near miss, Zane grabbed the bicycle. “You should watch
where you’re…”
“Don’t
mind Zane.” Al motioned for his friend to shut up. “Do you live near here? Let
me help you home.”
After
handing the bike over to Al, Zane returned to the ‘Vette shaking his head. Then
he grinned. They’d be a foursome after all.
***
In
the crowded lobby of the opera house, Margo slid the emerald raincoat over the
billowing folds of her black jumpsuit. Silk on silk. The rustling sound pleased
her.
“The
singing was passable,” Bettina said as she stepped in front of Margo so that
she could help with her velvet cape.
Margo
obliged by lifting the heavy material across her mother’s shoulders. “Very few
sopranos can pull it off with all the low notes required,” Margo said. “I don’t
think she managed them very well. She didn’t have the same fire for the low
notes as she did for the high.”
“You’re
rather critical tonight.”
The
French opera, Carmen , was her favorite. Rarely was it performed to
perfection. Perhaps if it had been sung well tonight, she would’ve been able to
concentrate on it more.
“She
was cardboard, standing there with her hand on her hip. Carmen is a Spanish
gypsy. She needs to show fire with allure. She must be charming. Remember her
last fall? That soprano used her eyes to taunt and tease. She portrayed such
tragic stature at the end.”
“I’m
glad someone was able to please you.”
“Are
you implying I’m difficult?”
Bettina
laughed. “I’m not stepping into that trap.”
Margo
smiled, knowing she was difficult, especially tonight. “We’d better hurry or
we’ll never get a cab. I can hear the rain outside. It must be pouring
buckets.”
They
jostled through the crowded lobby of the opera house until they finally reached
the door. People were streaming through the downpour in a mad scramble for the
steady line of taxis that appeared. Margo maneuvered them toward the front of
the informal group and when their turn came up, dashed for the next cab.
Cold
droplets splashed on her skin, but she really didn’t mind. The air felt refreshing
and cool after the stuffy warmth inside. In minutes, after Bettina had slid in
beside her, they were on their way to the Bay Bridge.
“I
checked your calendar and we both have some free time tomorrow. How about lunch
at Fisherman’s Wharf?” Margo said as she watched her mother smooth on her long
gloves. She hadn’t brought hers. Even though the temperature stayed pretty much
the same all year in the coastal city, she’d been determined to think
impressive. He sent them another half smile and a seductive wink. “Thanks. Need
a ride somewhere?”
“We’re
meeting our boyfriends.” Their obvious disappointment pleased him.
With
another squeal of tires, Zane tore off down the road, his eyes peeled for more
prospects. “See, it’s easy. First you act helpless. Women love to mother you.
Then show them you admire them. Not obvious, but with a look.” He gunned the
motor again. “And it doesn’t hurt to impress ‘em.”
By
now Al was laughing. “They ate that up.”
“Your
turn next.”
“Cut
me some slack, man.” Al reached over to turn up the knob of the stereo. “Just
‘cause you have a date with Rita already.”
“I
got four tickets. The band that plays ‘Forever Friends,’ man. You gotta get a
date.” Zane lifted his hands off the wheel.
Suddenly
a bicycle shot out in front of the ‘Vette. Zane grasped the wheel and slammed
on the brakes. The bicycle reached the other side safe enough but crashed when
it hit the curb.
Al
didn’t wait to open his door. He scrambled over the side. Zane followed.
“You
all right?” Al hollered.
Zane
reached them just as Al turned over the prettiest blonde he’d laid eyes on. Her
big blue eyes glanced up at Al. Zane knew his friend was a goner when she
batted heavy lashes.
“I’m
okay. If you could just help me up.”
Still
a little shaken by the near miss, Zane grabbed the bicycle. “You should watch
where you’re…”
“Don’t
mind Zane.” Al motioned for his friend to shut up. “Do you live near here? Let
me help you home.”
After
handing the bike over to Al, Zane returned to the ‘Vette shaking his head. Then
he grinned. They’d be a foursome after all.
***
In
the crowded lobby of the opera house, Margo slid the emerald raincoat over the
billowing folds of her black jumpsuit. Silk on silk. The rustling sound pleased
her.
“The
singing was passable,” Bettina said as she stepped in front of Margo so that
she could help with her velvet cape.
Margo
obliged by lifting the heavy material across her mother’s shoulders. “Very few
sopranos can pull it off with all the low notes required,” Margo said. “I don’t
think she managed them very well. She didn’t have the same fire for the low
notes as she did for the high.”
“You’re
rather critical tonight.”
The
French opera, Carmen , was her favorite. Rarely was it performed to
perfection. Perhaps if it had been sung well tonight, she would’ve been able to
concentrate on it more.
“She
was cardboard, standing there with her hand on her hip. Carmen is a Spanish
gypsy. She needs to show fire with allure. She must be charming. Remember her
last fall? That soprano used her eyes to taunt and tease. She portrayed such
tragic stature at the end.”
“I’m
glad someone was able to please you.”
“Are
you implying I’m difficult?”
Bettina
laughed. “I’m not stepping into that trap.”
Margo
smiled, knowing she was difficult, especially tonight. “We’d better hurry or
we’ll never get a cab. I can hear the rain outside. It must be pouring
buckets.”
They
jostled through the crowded lobby of the opera house until they finally reached
the door. People were streaming through the downpour in a mad scramble for the
steady line of taxis that appeared. Margo maneuvered them toward the front of
the informal group and when their turn came up, dashed for the next cab.
Cold
droplets splashed on her skin, but she really didn’t mind. The air felt refreshing
and cool after the stuffy warmth inside. In minutes, after Bettina had slid in
beside her, they were on their way to the Bay Bridge.
“I
checked your calendar and we both have some free time tomorrow. How about lunch
at Fisherman’s Wharf?” Margo said as she watched her mother smooth on her long
gloves. She hadn’t brought hers. Even though the temperature stayed pretty much
the same all year in the coastal city, she’d been determined to think
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