Chapter 2
Cheryl found herself becoming more aware of her body.
She was striking in her appearance-that was something that was just her, and she couldn't hide it. Men noticed her. When she would walk into the student cafeteria, there would be a rippling wave of turning heads. She hated being noticed. Her defense was to hold her head high, to act cool and aloof-disinterested. This facade seemed to work -at least as far as keeping men at a distance.
But gradually the ice began to melt between Cheryl and Annie.
In her own way Annie seemed honest, and even sweet. She didn't seem to wish anyone any harm.
She was certainly different from anyone that Cheryl had ever known, but apparently she was just as alien, and-in a different way-just as fascinating to the blonde girl-and there was growing a shy affection between the two of them.
"If you let me direct your social life," Annie said in their room one night, "I could solve your problem in a month."
"What problem?"
Annie grinned. "No offense," she said. "But you have a problem relating to the opposite sex."
"I wouldn't call it a problem," Cheryl said, a little stiffly.
"You just don't do it."
Cheryl raised her eyebrows.
"But that's not right," Annie insisted. "God put us here to love men, and he put men here to love us-and part of that-the most important part is sex."
"I didn't know you believed in God," Cheryl said.
Annie sighed in mock impatience. "It was just a figure of speech," she said. "But really, Cheryl . . . You're so beautiful. You have the makings of a gorgeous woman, but you work so hard to deny it, to cover it up."
As the weeks of the fall quarter passed, Annie's point of view began to have an effect. Cheryl began to feel that she really was missing out on an important part of life. She began to think that she should open up a little more-go out on dates. She had had a few offers, but she had always found excuses. When men would approach her after class, or in the cafeteria, she would automatically stiffen up, and turn them off. It was an involuntary reflex that seemed to be so deeply imprinted on her nature that she despaired of ever breaking its hold.
One night she woke up sweating from the old dream, the dream of watching the couple in the park. For once, Annie was awake-studying for a mid-term exam.
"What in the world is wrong with you ? " Annie asked, her voice filled with real concern. Before she could control herself, Cheryl told Annie about the dream, about what had happened in the park so many years before.
When Cheryl finished, she looked at Annie cautiously, almost expecting a laugh, expecting to be ridiculed. Annie didn't laugh.
"So that's it," Annie said softly. "That made you afraid of men, and you've never gotten over it."
Cheryl dropped her head, feeling like a foolish child.
Annie walked to her and touched the back of her neck lightly, warmly. "So you're not really very happy with things," she whispered. "You want to break out, but you don't know how, right?"
Cheryl nodded. It was true. She didn't want to be an old maid, a bookworm. It was just that she was so afraid. . . .
"Trust me," Annie said. "I'll help you. Trust me."
In the following weeks, the two girls became even closer. There was a kind of balance between them. Annie was world-wise and sophisticated, but she had trouble with her schoolwork. She advised Cheryl on making herself attractive. At first, the skirts that Annie egged Cheryl into wearing were just too short for comfort, but eventually Cheryl found herself wanting men to look at her, wanting to be attractive. In return, she helped Annie with her schoolwork.
The two girls began to meet frequently between classes for coffee. A few times, Annie arranged double dates. The dates that she found for Cheryl were always polite, considerate boys-boys who settled for a goodnight kiss. Cheryl began to feel that she was not so hopeless as she had feared. She began to like the company of men-or, rather, boys, for she couldn't think of these college students as men in the same way that her father was a man. Often the dates that Annie found for Cheryl were on the bookish sort-and, in that area, Cheryl could more than hold her own.
When the boys would bring the girls back to the dorm, it was a simple matter to break off a kiss. Cheryl even began to enjoy the necking, and with growing confidence, she gave herself to it. But there were limits. She wouldn't let a boy touch her under her skirt. When one of them would try to do that, the date would be over. After all, she didn't want to be like Annie. She just wanted to lead a normal social life. She wanted to make the most out of her college years-and not everything to be learned in college came from books. She was broadminded enough to realize that.
Life was richer. Now there were dances, dinner dates to look forward to. After all, a girl couldn't work all the time.
She began to breathe easier about herself. She even began to look at men differently-with a more critical eye. After all, they weren't all alike. And it was quite likely that she would meet her future husband at some dance, or in some off-campus coffee house.
And, best of all, she stopped having the dream, the terrible dream that had tortured her for so long.
Bobby didn't come around.
At first Cheryl didn't give it much thought. After all, it was common for him to lose touch for weeks at a time. But as weeks turned into months, and she didn't hear from him, she began to worry about him. She remembered their last meeting, and the strange way that he had behaved. It had been as if he had wanted to tell her something--or ask her something-and she hadn't wanted to hear it. Now she worried that he was in some kind of trouble-that she could have helped him and didn't. Weeks before, she had called his apartment only to find that he didn't live there anymore. She knew that he had never told their folks where he lived, and she didn't tell them that he had moved for fear of worrying them. It was a matter of pride with her father that he never asked about Bobby, but she knew that he cared. The mother made no secret of her concern, and the fact that Cheryl had nothing to report about her wayward brother kept her from going home more often than she did.
Then one day, he was waiting for her after class.
She was so glad to see him that she almost cried. She hugged him joyously, and it was a full two minutes before she realized that he wasn't alone.
The man beside Bobby was about thirty years old, and he was obviously not a student.
"Cheryl, this is my good friend Frank Moran," Bobby said, and Cheryl noticed the difference in his voice. Frank Moran was obviously a man that Bobby respected, and-knowing Bobby's taste in friends-that fact put Cheryl on her guard, made her scrutinize the man with some suspicion. Whatever Bobby had been doing these last few months -wherever he had been-she was sure that Frank Moran had had something to do with it.
He smiled and tipped his head. He was dressed very expensively-and very tastefully. There was a dignity about him-and yet his smile seemed genuinely warm. He was a tall, well-built man with sandy hair and aristocratic features. He gave the impression of a man who was completely at ease with himself and supremely confident of his abilities. Cheryl found herself fascinated by him -and yet, at the same time, a little afraid of him.
"It's such a beautiful day," Frank said. "Do you have time to take a drive with us-or do you have a class?"
She hesitated. She did have a class, but she hadn't seen Bobby for so long that she was reluctant to let him slip away after only a few minutes. "I'll cut it," she said. "Let's go."
Frank's car was a silver Mercedes Benz. Cheryl decided that the car fit his personality, but she found herself wondering where he got his money. There was definitely something big-time about him, and she also found herself wondering what his interest was in her brother. Bobby was a sweet kid, and he was her brother-but she knew that he was a high-school dropout with limited skill, and she found it curious that a man like Frank Moran would choose Bobby for a friend.
Frank suggested that they drive to the beach since it was a clear day. When they got there, he excused himself for a little while to make some phone calls. Bobby and Cheryl were left alone on the footpath that wound along the high bluff beside the King's Highway. Below, the beach was long and ash-white. It was clear out to sea.
"Let's go down," Cheryl urged. "It's too beautiful to watch from up here."
Bobby glanced nervously in the direction in which Frank had disappeared.
"Maybe we'd better wait."
"Come on," she said, taking his hand and pulling him toward the concrete steps down to the beach. "He'll find us." Bobby gave in reluctantly.
On the beach, Cheryl kicked off her shoes and sprinted across the cool sand joyously for about fifty yards. Behind her, Bobby lumbered awkwardly. He was wearing stylish high-heeled shoes, and, if she knew her brother, he wasn't about to kick them off and run on the beach like a child. He had too much macho, too much foolish dignity for that.
"It's beautiful," she said when he caught up with her. "The beach is so soft, and there's hardly anybody here!"
"Reminds me of the sand in an ashtray," he said glumly, and Cheryl smiled at his cynicism. He didn't sound as if he had changed very much.
"You look great," he said, eyeing her skimpy dress appreciatively. "I never thought I'd see my sister dressed like that."
She grinned. "I've learned a few things outside of English and History," she said.
"So I see," he said.
"Bobby, where have you been? What have you been doing?" She turned to face him directly. "Who is your friend Frank?"
He hesitated. "Look, sis," he said. "Everything is going fine. I've been all right. I've been making a lot of money. And, like I said before, Frank is my good friend."
She studied him closely, suspiciously. "Do you work for him, Bobby? Is he your boss?"
"Yeah, that's right. I work for him," he said guardedly.
"What do you do?"
Bobby looked away. "Frank is a businessman. I run errands, I'm learning the business."
"What kind of business is it, Bobby?"
He looked at her and laughed. "What do you think, Cheryl ? Do you think I kill people or something? I told you, Frank's a businessman, and I'm helping him out. There's a real future in it."
"And it's against the law. Isn't it?"
Bobby turned and looked hard at her. This time he didn't laugh. "I don't want to talk about it," he said.
Frank appeared on the beach. They watched him approach, and Cheryl noticed that although he didn't take his shoes off, he didn't seem at all awkward in the sand. He was the kind of man who wouldn't seem awkward in any circumstances. He was like a cat, she decided-like a big, strong cat. And yet, even as she watched him, thinking that he was a man to be distrusted and feared, it occurred to her that he was one of the most strikingly handsome men that she had ever laid her eyes on.
When the silver Mercedes was several blocks from the campus, Frank pulled over unexpectedly to the curb.
"I've got to see a man, sis," Bobby said, letting himself out. "Frank will take you back to the dormitory."
Cheryl fought back a wave of apprehension.
Bobby was gone, and she was alone with this strange man. It was a strange thing for Bobby to do, but he had acted as if it were perfectly natural. She forced herself to relax. Bobby loved her. He wouldn't have left her alone with Frank if there was anything to worry about.
He went straight to the dorm without speaking and pulled up alongside the curb, not bothering to turn off the motor.
"I would see you in like a gentleman," he said. "But I think that I would feel a little silly, so if you don't mind, I'll leave you here."
"I don't mind," she said, reaching for the door handle. "It was a nice drive. Thank you." She paused, wanting to say something more, wanting to ask questions. But the questions wouldn't form in her mind. She couldn't come right out and ask him if he was a criminal.
"I like you," Frank said. "I sense that you don't quite trust me, and I understand-believe me, I do. But I would like to get to know you better, and I would like for you to get to know me better. Why don't I pick you up about eight tomorrow for dinner?"
He smiled at her, and-despite her misgivings about him-she found herself smiling back without strain. After all, Bobby wouldn't have introduced them if he wasn't sure of Frank. Maybe she had it all wrong. Maybe she was letting her concern for her brother get out of hand. Maybe she was being paranoid about Frank.
"That will be nice," she said, smiling again.
"I'll look forward to it."
"So will I," he said.
That evening Cheryl told Annie about her date. As she had expected, Annie was fascinated.
"You've come along quickly," Annie told her. "But I didn't expect you to make the major leagues so soon. A silver Mercedes. He must be a pretty extraordinary man. He certainly has good taste."
"I want to know what his business is," Cheryl said. "I'm only interested in him because of Bobby."
Annie looked at her with an expression that was openly skeptical.
"Are you sure that's the only reason ? "
"Of course I'm sure. My God, he might be some kind of underworld figure. He sure has a hold on Bobby. I want to find out more about him."
"And he apparently wants to find out more about you," Annie countered.
Cheryl hesitated. It was true. And she had scarcely given a thought to that. Why was he so interested in "getting to know" her better? If it was hard to understand what Frank saw in a boy like Bobby, it was twice as hard to understand what he saw in Bobby's sister.
"Well, in any case, I'll help you get ready for him," Annie volunteered.
"What do you mean 'get ready for him'? "
"I mean if you're going out to dinner with a man like that in a silver Mercedes, you're not going to look like a college coed. We've got to buy you some new clothes."