attitude toward his dates, he had gentlemanly manners when he chose to exercise them.
Wade’s dark green Mercedes—a special order from the Pedersen Car Shoppe—rolled smoothly out of the parking lot. Dana perused his collection of compact discs before selecting one that she had insisted he buy. Wade complained that the group was hopelessly commercial and derivative and didn’t jibe with his sophisticated musical tastes; she knew he’d enjoyed the band’s concert at the Spectrum when she had dragged him there last summer. Not that he would ever admit it.
He groaned as the familiar melody filled the car. “First, you cheap out on buying your round of beer and stick me for the entire cost of the nachos and now this. You’re really gunning for me today, Sheely.”
She was unrepentant. “You’re a rich lawyer, Saxon. You can afford to pick up the entire tab from time to time. Oh, and if you plan on listening to music while you’re in the car with Jennifer on your big date tomorrow, you’d better stop by Blockbuster and buy some of those dance-club mix CDs. Jennifer is really into that.”
She knew how much he hated to dance and how he loathed dance-club mixes. His reaction was all she’d hoped for. He looked appalled. “Tell me you’re joking, Sheely. Jennifer doesn’t really—”
“Jennifer absolutely loves the dance-club scene. If you ask her where she wants to go tomorrow night, she’ll say Club Koncrete, I guarantee it. You’ll love Friday nights at Club Koncrete, Saxon,” Dana taunted. “It’s the place to be for the under twenty-five crowd. Sarah and Matt and Shawn are always talking about what a
radical
time they have there. You’ll probably see them there, along with allthe other kids their ages, dancing up a storm to the pulsing sounds of techno-pop.”
Wade gripped the steering wheel with such force that his fingers started to turn white. He and Sheely always kidded each other, but she was being particularly merciless tonight.
In fact, she was being downright cruel! Accusing him of being an aging swinger desperately seeking his lost youth. Cutting their evening together short. He’d planned to spend several more hours at Riggin’s, maybe even buy dinner there, because he was tired of takeout food and nuking frozen meals in his microwave.
Wade glanced over at Dana, who was placidly listening to a song that always reminded him of her, and his slow burn grew hotter. He felt distrustful and ill-used. For as he reviewed her offenses of the day, her collusion with Quinton Cormack to pirate Pedersen from Saxon Associates returned sharply to the forefront of his mind.
He wondered how and when he should break that unwelcome news to Aunt Eve and Rachel. To say they were not going to be pleased was an understatement bordering on the absurd. He envisioned the approaching storm and longed to postpone it. Could he? Should he?
He had just turned the corner of the Sheelys’ street when the loud, sharp blaring of a car horn startled him so much, he almost swerved onto the sidewalk.
“What the hell …”
“That was Brendan, in my car.” Dana clutched her hand to her chest, her heartbeat thundering in her ears. They had come within inches of crashing into a telephone pole; she had eyeballed the wood grain. “He was just honking hello.”
“Well, he almost got us killed,” muttered Wade.
“No, your overreaction almost got us killed.”
“Oh, sure, blame me! God forbid that one Sheely should ever speak against another one.”
“You’ve got that right.”
“Even if the Sheely in question happens to be in the wrong.” Wade pulled his car in front of the Sheely house.“As in the upcoming Sarah-Rachel-Cormack baby disaster,” he added triumphantly.
He enjoyed the concern that flashed in her eyes. It was about time the Sheelys experienced the negative side of Quint Cormack! The Saxons certainly had—and with the Tilden will looming and Pedersen’s departure, they were about to be
Wade’s dark green Mercedes—a special order from the Pedersen Car Shoppe—rolled smoothly out of the parking lot. Dana perused his collection of compact discs before selecting one that she had insisted he buy. Wade complained that the group was hopelessly commercial and derivative and didn’t jibe with his sophisticated musical tastes; she knew he’d enjoyed the band’s concert at the Spectrum when she had dragged him there last summer. Not that he would ever admit it.
He groaned as the familiar melody filled the car. “First, you cheap out on buying your round of beer and stick me for the entire cost of the nachos and now this. You’re really gunning for me today, Sheely.”
She was unrepentant. “You’re a rich lawyer, Saxon. You can afford to pick up the entire tab from time to time. Oh, and if you plan on listening to music while you’re in the car with Jennifer on your big date tomorrow, you’d better stop by Blockbuster and buy some of those dance-club mix CDs. Jennifer is really into that.”
She knew how much he hated to dance and how he loathed dance-club mixes. His reaction was all she’d hoped for. He looked appalled. “Tell me you’re joking, Sheely. Jennifer doesn’t really—”
“Jennifer absolutely loves the dance-club scene. If you ask her where she wants to go tomorrow night, she’ll say Club Koncrete, I guarantee it. You’ll love Friday nights at Club Koncrete, Saxon,” Dana taunted. “It’s the place to be for the under twenty-five crowd. Sarah and Matt and Shawn are always talking about what a
radical
time they have there. You’ll probably see them there, along with allthe other kids their ages, dancing up a storm to the pulsing sounds of techno-pop.”
Wade gripped the steering wheel with such force that his fingers started to turn white. He and Sheely always kidded each other, but she was being particularly merciless tonight.
In fact, she was being downright cruel! Accusing him of being an aging swinger desperately seeking his lost youth. Cutting their evening together short. He’d planned to spend several more hours at Riggin’s, maybe even buy dinner there, because he was tired of takeout food and nuking frozen meals in his microwave.
Wade glanced over at Dana, who was placidly listening to a song that always reminded him of her, and his slow burn grew hotter. He felt distrustful and ill-used. For as he reviewed her offenses of the day, her collusion with Quinton Cormack to pirate Pedersen from Saxon Associates returned sharply to the forefront of his mind.
He wondered how and when he should break that unwelcome news to Aunt Eve and Rachel. To say they were not going to be pleased was an understatement bordering on the absurd. He envisioned the approaching storm and longed to postpone it. Could he? Should he?
He had just turned the corner of the Sheelys’ street when the loud, sharp blaring of a car horn startled him so much, he almost swerved onto the sidewalk.
“What the hell …”
“That was Brendan, in my car.” Dana clutched her hand to her chest, her heartbeat thundering in her ears. They had come within inches of crashing into a telephone pole; she had eyeballed the wood grain. “He was just honking hello.”
“Well, he almost got us killed,” muttered Wade.
“No, your overreaction almost got us killed.”
“Oh, sure, blame me! God forbid that one Sheely should ever speak against another one.”
“You’ve got that right.”
“Even if the Sheely in question happens to be in the wrong.” Wade pulled his car in front of the Sheely house.“As in the upcoming Sarah-Rachel-Cormack baby disaster,” he added triumphantly.
He enjoyed the concern that flashed in her eyes. It was about time the Sheelys experienced the negative side of Quint Cormack! The Saxons certainly had—and with the Tilden will looming and Pedersen’s departure, they were about to be
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