set in a tense, grim smile.
The girls put their heads together and snickered again. Then Miss Red Tank said, “What kind of stone is that?” She reached out to touch the brown pendant Justus always wore.
He turned slightly and her hand landed on his chest instead. He pulled the chain out of her questing fingers and slipped the stone into the front of his shirt.
“It’s a river rock. Nothing valuable. More of a keepsake,” he said.
“Wow, you really work out,” said the girl. “Here, Lena, feel this.” She motioned to her companion to place her hand on Justus’s chest and arm that rested on the top of the bar.
He glided out of their reach.
Bert snorted, and Sable jerked her focus back to him, but before she did, she saw a faint red tinge on Justus’s cheek. Blushing? He was blushing?
“Christie, I will tell your mom if you don’t start behaving,” Bert said.
Red Tank Top—Christie—turned an evil look on Bert, her face blotchy with color. “You little—”
“Hey, hey, now, don’t turn bitchy on me. I’m not getting paid to babysit you, so watch the ’tude. Not a real big fan of that.”
“I don’t need a babysitter, you moron.”
“Not according to your mom, sweetie. She told me to keep you out of trouble, and if you get into a fix, she’ll tell my mom, and then she’ll be on my case.”
The other girl patted Christie’s arm. “Don’t let him get to you.” She slipped off the bar stool and strolled like liquid on two legs to the jukebox against the wall. The arched top of the music box gave the appearance of an antique, but the music selection was modern. She leaned one shapely arm on the top of the chrome and oak paneling of the jukebox and peered at the selection. She had the self-aware manner of someone who knew people were watching her.
“Hey, you got Nickelback . Cool.” She slipped her hand into the front of her skin-tight shorts and struggled briefly before pulling out several coins. The thunk of the quarters hit the machine’s innards, and “Animals” blared from the speakers.
“Oh, yeah, baby.” Christie moved to Lena and twined her figure around hers into a sinuous dance meant for the eyes. “Come on, Justus, join us. There’s plenty of room.” She gestured to the half-inch or so between her bosom and the other girl’s.
Lena snickered.
Justus half-smiled and his eyes went back to the bar top. His muscles flexed under his black T-shirt as he polished the wood in lazy circles. Really, Sable thought, that shirt was too tight. It revealed every ripple and movement under the cotton.
His eyes came up to hers, and it was her turn to look away. She felt her cheeks get hot.
Another snort from beside her gave her some relief from the tension. Bert dodged the gyrating girls by dramatically tiptoeing around them, as if he was avoiding stepping into something bad. He walked to the front of the jukebox to stare at the song menu. After a few seconds, he pulled coins from his jeans pocket and made a selection. The mood changed when a slow beat came from the speakers. Shinedown , Sable thought. Bert walked past the annoyed girls and held out one hand to Sable.
“May I have this dance?” he said dramatically.
She laughed at his hitched eyebrow.
“Soytenly.”
Her Curly imitation was crappy, but he laughed anyway, and she took his hand. In the next moment, her mouth dropped. Bert whirled her into his arms, his movements as graceful as any dancer on prime TV. He turned one shoulder, settled his hand on her hip, and moved into a waltz step in time to the beat. She followed his lead as he slid into the pattern.
“What? You’re surprised the boy can dance?” Bert laughed and rose on the balls of his feet to complete a turn, then twirled her under his arm.
Sable laughed.
“Surprised? Yeah, a bit. That you know what a waltz is and how to do it. And that you can do it pretty darn well.”
The two girls snarled and whispered together as she and Bert glided across the
The girls put their heads together and snickered again. Then Miss Red Tank said, “What kind of stone is that?” She reached out to touch the brown pendant Justus always wore.
He turned slightly and her hand landed on his chest instead. He pulled the chain out of her questing fingers and slipped the stone into the front of his shirt.
“It’s a river rock. Nothing valuable. More of a keepsake,” he said.
“Wow, you really work out,” said the girl. “Here, Lena, feel this.” She motioned to her companion to place her hand on Justus’s chest and arm that rested on the top of the bar.
He glided out of their reach.
Bert snorted, and Sable jerked her focus back to him, but before she did, she saw a faint red tinge on Justus’s cheek. Blushing? He was blushing?
“Christie, I will tell your mom if you don’t start behaving,” Bert said.
Red Tank Top—Christie—turned an evil look on Bert, her face blotchy with color. “You little—”
“Hey, hey, now, don’t turn bitchy on me. I’m not getting paid to babysit you, so watch the ’tude. Not a real big fan of that.”
“I don’t need a babysitter, you moron.”
“Not according to your mom, sweetie. She told me to keep you out of trouble, and if you get into a fix, she’ll tell my mom, and then she’ll be on my case.”
The other girl patted Christie’s arm. “Don’t let him get to you.” She slipped off the bar stool and strolled like liquid on two legs to the jukebox against the wall. The arched top of the music box gave the appearance of an antique, but the music selection was modern. She leaned one shapely arm on the top of the chrome and oak paneling of the jukebox and peered at the selection. She had the self-aware manner of someone who knew people were watching her.
“Hey, you got Nickelback . Cool.” She slipped her hand into the front of her skin-tight shorts and struggled briefly before pulling out several coins. The thunk of the quarters hit the machine’s innards, and “Animals” blared from the speakers.
“Oh, yeah, baby.” Christie moved to Lena and twined her figure around hers into a sinuous dance meant for the eyes. “Come on, Justus, join us. There’s plenty of room.” She gestured to the half-inch or so between her bosom and the other girl’s.
Lena snickered.
Justus half-smiled and his eyes went back to the bar top. His muscles flexed under his black T-shirt as he polished the wood in lazy circles. Really, Sable thought, that shirt was too tight. It revealed every ripple and movement under the cotton.
His eyes came up to hers, and it was her turn to look away. She felt her cheeks get hot.
Another snort from beside her gave her some relief from the tension. Bert dodged the gyrating girls by dramatically tiptoeing around them, as if he was avoiding stepping into something bad. He walked to the front of the jukebox to stare at the song menu. After a few seconds, he pulled coins from his jeans pocket and made a selection. The mood changed when a slow beat came from the speakers. Shinedown , Sable thought. Bert walked past the annoyed girls and held out one hand to Sable.
“May I have this dance?” he said dramatically.
She laughed at his hitched eyebrow.
“Soytenly.”
Her Curly imitation was crappy, but he laughed anyway, and she took his hand. In the next moment, her mouth dropped. Bert whirled her into his arms, his movements as graceful as any dancer on prime TV. He turned one shoulder, settled his hand on her hip, and moved into a waltz step in time to the beat. She followed his lead as he slid into the pattern.
“What? You’re surprised the boy can dance?” Bert laughed and rose on the balls of his feet to complete a turn, then twirled her under his arm.
Sable laughed.
“Surprised? Yeah, a bit. That you know what a waltz is and how to do it. And that you can do it pretty darn well.”
The two girls snarled and whispered together as she and Bert glided across the
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