over her hair
.
And it is then that Allison knows she has a rival in Kate, and that Kate doesn’t even know it. Allison can’t take her eyes off Mike as his arm circles Kate’s waist, and she melts into his body. They both have their eyes closed, but she can see them whispering to each other. Allison looks for Paul in the crowd, wanting to see his reaction, but she is disappointed when he watches Kate and Mike for a few seconds with a grin on his face, and then goes back to the conversation he is having with three other men
.
When they’ve finished their dance, Kate’s spirits seem restored, and Mike watches in amusement as she asks for quiet
.
“Jerry? We haven’t seen your performance yet, and I’m sure everyone is dying to know what scene you’re going to do from
True Grit.
Why don’t you start the next round?”
Jerry Springer, the second-string catcher for the Giants who comes from nearby Waynesboro, quickly says, “What about you, Kate? I think the hostess should lead off the second half.”
His suggestion is met with voices raised in agreement and clapping. Kate looks at Paul across the room and he gives her an encouraging nod. Her eyes sweep the room, then she grins and gives a “what the hell” shrug
.
“Okay, let’s get this over with.” She looks at Allison. “Care to join me?”
Allison shakes her head. “No. I don’t think I can compete.”
Kate moves to the far wall, takes off the shawl, and faces the crowd. “All right, Paul. Hit it.”
The music starts and Kate begins her husky-voiced rendition of “Put the Blame on Mame,” doing a perfect imitation of Rita Hayworth’s pouty, provocative burlesque. Their friends roar as she slowly peels off a glove, trails it over Mike’s head, and drops it in his lap. As she seductively glides through the movements of the number, the other glove comes off, ending up in Lou Whitley’s outstretched hand. She bends forward, placing her hands on her thighs, revealing milky-white cleavage. She sings through a curtain of fiery hair, one smoky blue eye gazing at her audience. When she finishes with arms up and one shapely leg peeking out of the expanse of black satin, those who aren’t already standing, leap up to join the applause
.
Winking at Mike, Kate grabs her shawl on her way out the door
.
Allison downs the gin and tonic she’s been nursing during Kate’s number, and holds out the glass to Mike. “I’ll be right back.”
Allison finds Kate on the mud porch, the back door wide open
.
Kate smiles. “Needed some fresh air.”
“I can imagine,” Allison responds. “I could use a little myself.” She pauses, then says, “That was quite a performance.”
“Thanks,” Kate answers. “It would’ve been a kick to do it together.”
Kate’s words seem genuine to Allison, but she still asks, “It was a performance, wasn’t it?”
Kate turns. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing,” Allison says as she looks into Kate’s eyes and sees genuine puzzlement. “Kate, can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“It’s about Mike. What’s the longest relationship he’s had?”
“Probably the one he has with you. I guess hell finally froze over.” Kate’s grin disappears at Allison’s frown. “Hey, I’m sorry!” She runs her hand down the other woman’s arm. “It’s a very old joke. He’s lucky he found you.”
The champagne starts flowing around quarter to twelve. Allison drifts from room to room searching for Mike. She finally finds him in the backyard playing catch with Kate and Homer while Paul looks on from the back porch. Kate has slipped a sweater on over her dress and has taken off her shoes. Allison can see Mike’s breath in the backlight of the floods in the trees. They are both laughing, as they tease the dog with the promise of a tossed ball
.
Allison leans on the railing next to Paul. “Do I remind you of her?”
“Does it matter?” he asks
.
“I hope not,” she says softly
.
They both watch in
.
And it is then that Allison knows she has a rival in Kate, and that Kate doesn’t even know it. Allison can’t take her eyes off Mike as his arm circles Kate’s waist, and she melts into his body. They both have their eyes closed, but she can see them whispering to each other. Allison looks for Paul in the crowd, wanting to see his reaction, but she is disappointed when he watches Kate and Mike for a few seconds with a grin on his face, and then goes back to the conversation he is having with three other men
.
When they’ve finished their dance, Kate’s spirits seem restored, and Mike watches in amusement as she asks for quiet
.
“Jerry? We haven’t seen your performance yet, and I’m sure everyone is dying to know what scene you’re going to do from
True Grit.
Why don’t you start the next round?”
Jerry Springer, the second-string catcher for the Giants who comes from nearby Waynesboro, quickly says, “What about you, Kate? I think the hostess should lead off the second half.”
His suggestion is met with voices raised in agreement and clapping. Kate looks at Paul across the room and he gives her an encouraging nod. Her eyes sweep the room, then she grins and gives a “what the hell” shrug
.
“Okay, let’s get this over with.” She looks at Allison. “Care to join me?”
Allison shakes her head. “No. I don’t think I can compete.”
Kate moves to the far wall, takes off the shawl, and faces the crowd. “All right, Paul. Hit it.”
The music starts and Kate begins her husky-voiced rendition of “Put the Blame on Mame,” doing a perfect imitation of Rita Hayworth’s pouty, provocative burlesque. Their friends roar as she slowly peels off a glove, trails it over Mike’s head, and drops it in his lap. As she seductively glides through the movements of the number, the other glove comes off, ending up in Lou Whitley’s outstretched hand. She bends forward, placing her hands on her thighs, revealing milky-white cleavage. She sings through a curtain of fiery hair, one smoky blue eye gazing at her audience. When she finishes with arms up and one shapely leg peeking out of the expanse of black satin, those who aren’t already standing, leap up to join the applause
.
Winking at Mike, Kate grabs her shawl on her way out the door
.
Allison downs the gin and tonic she’s been nursing during Kate’s number, and holds out the glass to Mike. “I’ll be right back.”
Allison finds Kate on the mud porch, the back door wide open
.
Kate smiles. “Needed some fresh air.”
“I can imagine,” Allison responds. “I could use a little myself.” She pauses, then says, “That was quite a performance.”
“Thanks,” Kate answers. “It would’ve been a kick to do it together.”
Kate’s words seem genuine to Allison, but she still asks, “It was a performance, wasn’t it?”
Kate turns. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing,” Allison says as she looks into Kate’s eyes and sees genuine puzzlement. “Kate, can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“It’s about Mike. What’s the longest relationship he’s had?”
“Probably the one he has with you. I guess hell finally froze over.” Kate’s grin disappears at Allison’s frown. “Hey, I’m sorry!” She runs her hand down the other woman’s arm. “It’s a very old joke. He’s lucky he found you.”
The champagne starts flowing around quarter to twelve. Allison drifts from room to room searching for Mike. She finally finds him in the backyard playing catch with Kate and Homer while Paul looks on from the back porch. Kate has slipped a sweater on over her dress and has taken off her shoes. Allison can see Mike’s breath in the backlight of the floods in the trees. They are both laughing, as they tease the dog with the promise of a tossed ball
.
Allison leans on the railing next to Paul. “Do I remind you of her?”
“Does it matter?” he asks
.
“I hope not,” she says softly
.
They both watch in
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