Chapter 5
April felt oddly guilty. Peg had closed the door to her room-an unusual gesture. No sound reached April until she, too, went to her quarters. Then she heard Peg go back downstairs.
April was puzzled and frightened-both by her own incomprehensible reaction to Peg's brief caress and Peg's obvious annoyance. She liked Peg-she did not want to think that anything about their friendship could be emotionally unhealthy. Resolutely she put such considerations from her mind. Peg was probably irked because April was going out on their final night of freedom while she, Peg, had no date. For a few moments April toyed with die idea of phoning Judson Gray and canceling her appointment with him-but after some consideration decided not to. To pacify Peg now might be the first step in shaping her daily life to Peg's and an eventual loss of independence.
April undressed, slipped into a robe and lay down on her bed.
She heard the phone ring downstairs and the faint murmur of Peg's voice answering. A few moments later, April looked up as Peg, now dressed in a housecoat, appeared in the doorway. She made a gesture over her shoulder, indicating the distant phone. "How about that? I've got a date, too. Early dinner okay, honey?"
April smiled. She felt relieved. Peg seemed to have gotten over whatever had bothered her. So had April.
"Of course."
"Mine's not as handsome as Jud Gray." Peg leaned against the door jamb. "But at least I can handle him. Watch your boy tonight."
"Peg-he can't be that bad."
"Those handsome, intense men generally fight hard for what they want. Not that I ever had a chance to find out with Jud." She straightened. "I guess I'd better wash and polish the body for a big evening."
She made a face and left. April was thankful to the unknown man who had called Peg. If her own earlier reaction to Peg had been unorthodox in any way she should now be feeling jealousy. She felt none as she prepared for her shower.
During dinner everything between herself and Peg seemed perfectly normal. They washed dishes and hurried to dress. As April was putting finishing touches to her hair, Peg came to her door.
"I'm off, honey."
"I didn't hear your date come in," April said. Peg grinned. "This one never does. We meet-big deal."
"For him-you're positively beautiful in that outfit, Peg."
A peculiar expression flitted across Peg's face. Then she smoothed the bottle-green dress over her hips and smiled.
"Thanks, baby. See you later-and take care of yourself."
She was gone. A moment later April heard her drive away. April finished her hair and walked downstairs, glancing at the clock. She had hardly settled herself to wait when the door chimes announced Judson Gray.
Once again she sat beside him as he tooled his car smoothly through the scant traffic-and once more she had that strange feeling that his hands on the wheel controlled more than the car ... that somehow he had the potential of dictating her very destiny. Occasionally his eyes traveled appreciatively over her, as they had done when she had first met him at the door. She knew that her fight summer sheath accented every curve of her body. It was intended to catch attention, from low, square-cut neckline to contour-hugging softness-yet it had a demure decency that invited no more than the eye.
"I've been dying to know where we're going," she said.
"To settle our argument? Later."
"And first?"
He grinned. "Where I can show you off. Be a shame to waste the way you look tonight just on me." April found nothing to say.
Judson Gray drove to the expressway. The day's heat had all but vanished. The wind coming through the open car window was merely pleasantly warm. Stars glittered in the dark sky. In the dim glow of the dash April studied the strong molding of his chin and jaw, his high forehead, dark hair and his capable hands on the steering wheel. She remembered Peg's warning but found herself relaxing. She probably had more to fear from herself than from Judson Gray.
He swung off the expressway to an exit that led to a more elaborate motel and restaurant than April had expected to see in what she had come to regard as a depressed area. She stared in surprise at the long low cocktail lounge, lighted pool, exquisitely modern restaurant.
Judson Gray smiled at her astonishment. "The place is well-named, I think-Jewel Box."
He slid from under the wheel, circled the car and opened her door, held his hand to help her. They entered the Jewel Box, were shown to a booth and April looked about the crowded room, The lights were indirect except for a hidden spot that played on the center of the back bar. An open treasure chest lay on its side in the splash of light, its jeweled contents spilled out on the wide velvet-covered shelf. Light reflected in bright points from realistic diamonds and emeralds, red, green and cold blue.
Jud said, "If those were real, that shelf would be worth millions." Their drinks had arrived almost instantly and he lifted his in a salute to her. "Here's to the real jewel."
She smiled a little uncertainly, sipped the excellent drink.
Jud seemed to understand her silence. "Surprised to see something like this out in the cornfields?"
"Yes."
"The only place like it between here and St. Louis. The trade comes from a radius of about a hundred miles around-this is the nearest thing to a resort this part of the country has." He sobered. "I suppose I'm making up now for Nick's place later."
"Nick's?"
"Where the teenagers hang out. Enjoy this while you can.
She frowned but Jud changed the subject, identifying some of the people in the booths. She could almost have guessed their backgrounds from the air of solid prosperity about them-a bank president from a neighboring town, a farm equipment dealer from another, an influential state politician-men and their wives from small but solid communities ranging over a good part of the state.
Jud seemed to read her mind, for he answered her question before she asked it. "You and I are the only ones from our town. A year or two ago you could have found a round dozen of my people here. Another sign of our trouble."
Piano music came from somewhere beyond the bar and Jud led her to the dance floor between the restaurant and the lounge. She felt again his arms guiding her, as they had that afternoon, to a mood of curious familiarity, an imminent intimacy she somehow recognized as dangerous. She was not sure why but she felt relieved when they returned to their table and to fresh drinks.
They talked idly as they finished the second round. Then he looked at his watch.
"Time we started for Nick's."
April sighed. "This is so pleasant, I'd almost prefer losing the argument."
"Not a chance." He laughed with a touch of grimness. "I need you on my side."
He helped her into the car and slid under the wheel. He started the motor, switched on his lights, but before setting the car in motion he turned to her. Before she could move he kissed her full on the lips. She felt the warm shock of his mouth-partly it paralyzed her, partly it evoked an instant response. Before she could properly catalogue either reaction he released her, turned back to the wheel.
"I took that now-before Nick's spoils the evening for both of us," he said tightly.
She straightened, uncertain of what to say. He started the motor, wheeled out of the parking area. He did not return to the expressway but drove down a dark, nearly deserted highway. They met a car now and then, saw dark houses and barns occasionally, glided through a dark and sleeping hamlet.
Jud drove in a concentrated silence, holding the speed steady as the miles flashed by. April gradually recovered from the impact of his kiss and relegated it to its proper place. The fun part of the evening was over-he had implied as much.
But now and then she gave him a covert, puzzled look. He acted as though she were barely there. Then why was it important to him to prove whatever point he meant to put across to her?
Jud slowed speed to drive through a larger town. He broke the silence as they rolled through a short business district and the houses began to thin to open countryside again. "Eight miles more. Nick's is just a quarter mile outside the county line. The location gives him a margin of safety."
"I don't understand."
"He's out of the jurisdiction of our sheriff. Takes care not to court trouble with his own."
The miles went swiftly. Sooner than she expected, April saw a distant, blinking point of green light. It grew steadily larger and then resolved into a high neon sign that blinked on and off: corners.
Jud slowed the car. Soon she saw the long, low building, nearly dark. An arch of lights led to a motel court beyond.
Jud killed his headlights. "I'll drive slowly over the layout," he said, 'so you'll get a general idea. Then we'll turn around and pay a visit indoors."
She nodded, eyes busy. At closer inspection she saw a dozen or more cars, dark and silent before the main building. A sudden noise startled her and Jud braked to a stop. A battered car whipped toward the place at high speed along the highway. It made a sharp turn, tires squealing protest, wheeled before the building and stopped with a scream of brakes seemingly inches from the wall.
Instantly doors flew open and the machine, still rocking, erupted human beings. Boys, April saw, in careless shirt-tail attire. Girls, one in a dress, but the others in playsuits that were little more than bikinis covering hips and breasts. Adolescent voices rose in muted shouts and girlish squeals. There was a bit of shoving and horseplay as the group went to the door of the main structure.
As it opened, April heard the strident beat of jukebox music that cut off sharply as the door closed. Jud put his car into slow motion.
"Place is virtually soundproof," he said. "Heavy drapes over the windows hide the lights. But you can bet all hell's going on in there."
As Jud inched along, April began to see cars parked off the road under the trees that lined a fence well back from the highway. She turned her attention to the adjoining court of the motel.
Most of the units were dark but occasional flashes of light came from several, suggesting surreptitious occupancy.
Jud said, "Give you odds we make a lot of people unhappy in a few minutes."
She put her hand on his arm. "Do you mean to cause trouble?"
He smiled tightly at her. "You gave me an argument about the kids you're going to teach and I promised to show you."
He added his car to those parked under the trees. He helped April out and she looked at the main building again. The low, long structure seemed to crouch under the flicking high neon sign, outwardly dark but namelessly alive within.
Jud touched her arm and she started. She recovered instantly with a little nervous laugh. His fingers tightened reassuringly on her arm and he escorted her toward the structure. As they approached the door, a couple abruptly appeared from the motel court.
April saw two young bodies silhouetted sharply in the glow of lights from the court. Neither the boy nor the girl could be over eighteen. The boy had a short, muscular, stocky build. The girl was plump and round-faced. She wore sandals on bare feet. Tight shorts hardly covered fleshy thighs and her breasts threatened to break from the cheap cotton halter that covered them.
The kids stopped short when they saw April and Jud. The girl gave a low, frightened gasp.
Jud eased the door ajar, stepped back. "Go right in."
Noise came from the narrow lighted rectangle of the partly open door.
The boy shifted nervously and uncertainly from one leg to another.
At last he managed: "Oh-oh, sure. Thanks."
The girl grabbed his arm, said in a low hurried tone, "I don't think we'd better. I-gotta get home."
The boy threw a frightened look at Jud, peered sharply at April. Without a word he swung the girl about and walked hurriedly with her into the shadows. Jud grinned crookedly at April, held the door open wider and waved her inside.
She felt she had to lean against the blast of sound that beat against her. She had an impression of coiling blue streamers of cigarette smoke, of swirling green, yellow and blue lights from the crouching, squat jukebox, of cheap powder, beer and body smells.
Jud moved with her, half guiding, half pushing her down a crowded aisle between the long bar and a line of booths. Adolescent faces looked at April and him in slack surprise, young hands frozen on beer bottles or highball glasses. A boy stared at her over his shoulder, his hand still plunged down the neckline of his girl's halter. The girl gasped and jerked away. April glimpsed a thin face, not yet filled out, framed by a tangle of straight dark hair. The girl's narrow shoulders and wiry arms had no feminine contours as yet. April fleetingly wondered what the young oaf found under the halter.
She moved on at Jud's gentle insistence.
Gradually voices faded and died out altogether. The jukebox music grew louder as its competition lessened. The teenagers perched on the bar stools seemed to freeze after many had hastily averted their faces to forestall easy recognition.
The jukebox played out its coins and fell silent. No one fed it again. Jud paused before a booth and its occupants slithered hastily out, leaving it vacant.
Jud looked at April, shrugged and said, "Might as well."
She sat down. She saw furtive movement everywhere, a trickling of couples to the door and out. Now and then she heard a muffled voice, a whisper. She looked toward the bar, surprised to find it nearly deserted. A big beefy man with dark, oily skin glared at her from behind the bar.
He slapped his rag on the bar top, came to the booth and glared down at Jud. "What you want here?"
"Whatever your customers have been drinking."
"Cokes? Soft drinks? For you?"
Jud picked up a glass in which shreds of foam still clung to the sides and which held an inch of amber liquid. He sipped gingerly.
"I'd say beer." His hand darted to another hurriedly abandoned glass. He sniffed it, sipped. "Gin and tonic."
"People got I.D. cards can drink what they want," the bartender said heavily.
"Those kids had I.D.s?"
"Look, mister, you prove they didn't. Order what you want and then get out. You ruin my business."
"I'll bet we do, Nick."
Dark, bushy brows pulled down. "Maybe I'm Nick. Who're you?"
"I live in this area-and I saw a lot of our town kids here tonight."
"They got a right come to my place, so long as they behave themselves. I serve 'em hamburgs and soft drinks and they dance to the jukebox."
"And rent your cottages."
Nick Archos placed thick hands on the edge of the booth and leaned down over him. April drew back, frightened, as he scowled at Jud.
"Order your drink and get back home."
"Two martinis, Nick."
The man straightened, glared and lumbered to the bar. April threw Jud a frightened look but he shrugged reassuringly.
Nick returned with the two drinks and placed them on the table. He moved away and began picking up empty glasses in booths and along the bar. The silence of the big room held menacing weightiness for April. She tasted her drink cautiously and was surprised to find it excellent.
Jud spoke in a low tone. "Here's where the wild bunch comes. They drink and dance in here until the beer and liquor gets to them. Then they use the motel units."
Nick suddenly loomed over them again. "Finished?"
Jud looked challengingly up at him. "With these. Two more."
"I said drink and get out."
"I heard you, Nick. But I want two more."
Nick's chest swelled but he held his temper. "What you trying to do?"
"Make a point, I guess, maybe two. First, I'm pretty familiar with liquor laws-such as those concerning minors. Second, you're not scaring me. As a matter-of-fact, I think I'd like some trouble from you. Give me an excuse to bring you to court."
"Who wants to make trouble? Two martinis coming up."
He served them and retreated, grumbling, behind his bar. April and Jud lingered over their drinks and she began to feel a warm and sensuous glow through her whole body. Jud had made his point and she found herself liking him for it. For some reason she did not like to think of him as defeated even by herself. The essentially drab tavern seemed to soften and the changing colored lights of the jukebox looked lovely. Jud's face looked more masculine and she became aware of the firm set of his mouth. She wanted him to kiss her again.
The thought sent a little shiver along her nerves and she mentally pulled herself up short. She warned herself she was much too aware of his attraction, had been all along and now the drinks added their weight. It would be best to end this evening before she made some foolish gesture.
Jud placed his empty glass on the table. "We've chased off the wild bunch and they won't be back this evening"
"I agree. We'd better go home."
She stood up with him and, in a warm cloud walked the length of the bar, vaguely aware that Nick's glare followed her and Jud. They stepped outside and Jud pointed-his car sat alone in the parking area. The lights were all gone from the motel court and no hot rod occupied the carports.
Jud laughed. "Nick might as well go home. His business is ruined for the evening."
She clung to Jud's arm as they walked to his car. She slid into her seat and closed her eyes. Jud got under the wheel beside her. When he did not immediately start the motor, she looked at him. Their eyes locked.
"Feel all right?" he asked.
"Fine-a little stuffy. That last martini."
"I know-a little too much. For me, too. But we couldn't let Nick set his own rules. I'll roll down your window."
He reached across her to turn the handle. His arm brushed across her breasts. His face was close to hers and suddenly he stopped cranking the window. April held her breath in anticipation.
Jud slowly bent to her. His hand released the window-crank and his arm circled her waist. His other hand grasped her shoulder. His lips crushed on hers and she shaped her lips to meet his kiss. She knew a delicious urge to surrender.
His hand moved up to cup the curve of her breast through the cloth and she murmured her response. Her tongue met his and explored as she moved her mouth under his to absorb the kiss. He strained to her and a quiver of passion coursed through her.
His hand rose to the neckline of her dress. In a moment, she felt the warmth of his fingers against her flesh. She gasped as her body tensed, demanding his caresses. He put his mouth to her breast, slid a hand up her thigh. Her body shook spasmodically.
Abruptly her brain cleared. She jerked bolt upright, striking his hand from her legs and her sharp cry of outrage echoed in the car's confines.
Jud straightened and she glared into his eyes. "Take me home-or do your women walk?"
His mouth dropped open, snapped shut. He pulled himself upright behind the wheel and angrily twisted the ignition key. The motor roared to life as April indignantly pulled her skirt down over her legs and adjusted her brassiere. Tires spun gravel and the car half skidded onto the highway, whipped around.
They both glared down the blinding white beams along the highway as they hurded toward Centerville.