Read Online A Note From an Old Acquaintance by Bill Walker - Free Book Online Page B

Brian was left without a snappy comeback. Cassie tugged him toward the dance floor. He placed his beer on a nearby ledge and went reluctantly, his eyes darting between the redhead and the direction Cassie was leading him. They reached the dance floor and she immediately began gyrating suggestively, making sure to bump and grind against him at every opportunity. Brian did his best to appear enthusiastic, without encouraging her, a delicate balance if there ever was one. He also tried not to look like an idiot on the dance floor.
    Dancing had never interested him. The old cliché about two left feet definitely applied to his, at least he’d come to believe that after years of torturous dancing lessons as a pre-teen. His mind returned to the redhead and how uninhibited she’d been on the dance floor. Cassie was uninhibited, too, but in a far less innocent way. And then it hit him. That was what intrigued him about the redhead, the innocence of youth—a freedom of spirit—that few people, beaten down by life, ever managed to hold onto.
    Brian glanced toward the table where the redhead and her friend sat, relieved to see her still sitting there. A moment later, disaster loomed. A man approached with a confident swagger, his garish polyester shirt opened to the navel, gold chains clanking.
    Great, here comes the dickhead.
    Brian watched the pantomime unfold between the man and the redhead with morbid fascination. Wait a minute! What was this? The redhead was shaking her head, a frown creasing her smooth brow. Her friend had turned away, looking as if she wanted to melt through the floor. The man shrugged and turned away, his swagger gone.
    Brian felt another tug on his arm and he turned back to Cassie, who wagged a finger at him.
    “Naughty, naughty,” she mouthed, bumping and grinding against him once again. His patience left him then. He leaned closer, feeling her body melt against his, her breath a hot murmur in his ear.
    “Excuse me, but there’s someone I need to talk to.”
    He walked off the floor, leaving her fuming. He had no doubt that if her eyes had been twin lasers, he’d have been instant toast. The music changed, the beat becoming more primal. Drums and bass thundered, matching the pace of his gait. Every step toward that small table where the redhead sat vibrated through his entire body.
    Come on, Weller, just a few more steps.
    Twenty feet away, he saw her stand up and move toward the bar. He halted in his tracks—unsure about what to do next—then followed her. His beer had disappeared from the ledge where he’d placed it, so a trip to the bar was now called for. A moment later he stood right behind her, watching her order a glass of chilled Chablis.
    Now, you dimwit!
    “Would you like to dance?”
    God, he sounded like such a pencil-necked dweeb.
    She turned, and Brian braced himself, praying she would treat him with more kindness than she’d treated Mr. Polyester.
    When her gaze found him, her impossibly green eyes widened, jolting every molecule in his body, leaving him reeling and tingling, as if struck by some mystical static discharge. He swallowed hard and stared back at her, feet rooted to the floor, blood roaring in his ears. He could barely breathe.
    The redhead edged a step closer and tilted her head, her stunned expression turning inquisitive. He felt those gentle eyes probe and caress him, searching the very deepest regions of his soul. They made him feel naked and humbled and ecstatic, all at once. And he couldn’t look away—didn’t want to look away.
    Standing there, adrift in his timeless enchantment, the music faded into a subliminal drone and the crowds surrounding them became nothing more than fleeting shadows. He was aware of nothing—and no one—but her.
    A heartbeat later the redhead spoke, breaking the spell.
    “I—I’m sorry,” she said, in a voice like velvet. “Did you say something?”
    “Do you....” Brian trembled. “Do you want to dance?”
    She reached over