sand. Girls in bikinis and boys in swim trunks rolled past on rollerblades and skateboards. Parents pedaled children in surreys. To anyone who observed them, they were just another couple strolling the seawall on a fine summer day, not a lawyer and his ex-wife who stood accused of murdering her lover. A police cruiser with lights flashing and siren wailing sped past. Rebecca froze until it was out of sight then turned to him.
"Scott, I can't go back to that jail."
"Don't worry. You won't."
That assurance and the fresh air seemed to relax her. A block further down, she pointed at a structure being built atop pilings embedded in the beach.
"Ike took down the Hooters and Murdoch's Pier. They're rebuilding Murdoch's."
A few more steps and she gestured at two rows of vacant pilings extending into the Gulf.
"And that's all that's left of the Balinese."
For almost four decades after the Eighteenth Amendment to the U.S. Constitution prohibiting the manufacture, sale, transportation, and importation of intoxicating liquors in America took effect in 1920, sinners flocked to Galveston Island for booze, prostitution, and gambling. Galveston became known as "Sin City." And no venue on the Island offered more sin than the Balinese Room, a swanky South Sea-themed speakeasy situated at the end of a wooden pier extending six hundred feet into the Gulf of Mexico. Two Sicilian-born barbers who became bootleggers named Salvatore and Rosario Maceo brought sin and stars to Galveston, Texas. Frank Sinatra, Bob Hope, Jack Benny, and Groucho Marx played the Balinese, where a bartender concocted the first margarita. Proud locals dubbed their lawless island the "Free State of Galveston" where sin reigned supreme until 1957 when the Texas Rangers raided the Balinese Room and shut down vice on the Island. The Balinese's glory days came to an end, but the red building on the 21st Street pier had remained a Galveston landmark until Hurricane Ike washed it out to sea.
"Remember that spring break?" Rebecca asked.
He did. They had come to Galveston with a group from SMU, he the former football star and she the reigning Miss SMU. They had partied at the Balinese Room and had sex on the beach. Every night.
"I could never drive past the Balinese without thinking of that week," she said.
"Why, Rebecca?"
"Those nights on the beach—"
"No. Why'd you leave me?"
Twenty-two months and eleven days he had waited to ask her that question.
"Scott, I …"
"I kept your letter. You said—"
"Don't, Scott. I'm not that person anymore."
"Rebecca, what did you need from me that I didn't give you?"
"It wasn't you, Scott. It was me."
"Was it because I lost everything?"
"It was because I was lost. I didn't know who I was. I was playing a role. All my life I had played a role. Little Miss Texas. Miss Dallas. Miss SMU. Miss Cheerleader. Mrs. A. Scott Fenney, the most beautiful woman in Highland Park. I felt like I was always onstage … or in a cage. Like an animal in the zoo, everyone staring at me. When the cage door opened, I ran." She faced him. "I'm sorry, Scott. I know I hurt you … both of you."
They walked another block before Rebecca spoke again.
"Can I see her? Boo."
EIGHT
"And Scotty Junior was a girl named Boo," Rebecca said.
Scott had parked in the shade of the beach house, but they had not gotten out. They sat and watched Boo on the beach. She had changed into a white swimsuit and was building a sand castle with a little shovel and bucket. Her head of red hair bobbed like a buoy in the Gulf.
"Last time I saw her, she had her hair in cornrows."
"That lasted a while then she went to the ponytail."
"She's so tall."
"She's eleven now."
"I sent her birthday presents."
Boo had never opened them.
"How is she?"
"She's good. Makes straight As. They both do."
"Both who?"
"She and her sister."
" Sister? You remarried?"
"I adopted."
He pointed at Pajamae, who came running down the beach to Boo. Louis soon followed and stood watch nearby,
"Scott, I can't go back to that jail."
"Don't worry. You won't."
That assurance and the fresh air seemed to relax her. A block further down, she pointed at a structure being built atop pilings embedded in the beach.
"Ike took down the Hooters and Murdoch's Pier. They're rebuilding Murdoch's."
A few more steps and she gestured at two rows of vacant pilings extending into the Gulf.
"And that's all that's left of the Balinese."
For almost four decades after the Eighteenth Amendment to the U.S. Constitution prohibiting the manufacture, sale, transportation, and importation of intoxicating liquors in America took effect in 1920, sinners flocked to Galveston Island for booze, prostitution, and gambling. Galveston became known as "Sin City." And no venue on the Island offered more sin than the Balinese Room, a swanky South Sea-themed speakeasy situated at the end of a wooden pier extending six hundred feet into the Gulf of Mexico. Two Sicilian-born barbers who became bootleggers named Salvatore and Rosario Maceo brought sin and stars to Galveston, Texas. Frank Sinatra, Bob Hope, Jack Benny, and Groucho Marx played the Balinese, where a bartender concocted the first margarita. Proud locals dubbed their lawless island the "Free State of Galveston" where sin reigned supreme until 1957 when the Texas Rangers raided the Balinese Room and shut down vice on the Island. The Balinese's glory days came to an end, but the red building on the 21st Street pier had remained a Galveston landmark until Hurricane Ike washed it out to sea.
"Remember that spring break?" Rebecca asked.
He did. They had come to Galveston with a group from SMU, he the former football star and she the reigning Miss SMU. They had partied at the Balinese Room and had sex on the beach. Every night.
"I could never drive past the Balinese without thinking of that week," she said.
"Why, Rebecca?"
"Those nights on the beach—"
"No. Why'd you leave me?"
Twenty-two months and eleven days he had waited to ask her that question.
"Scott, I …"
"I kept your letter. You said—"
"Don't, Scott. I'm not that person anymore."
"Rebecca, what did you need from me that I didn't give you?"
"It wasn't you, Scott. It was me."
"Was it because I lost everything?"
"It was because I was lost. I didn't know who I was. I was playing a role. All my life I had played a role. Little Miss Texas. Miss Dallas. Miss SMU. Miss Cheerleader. Mrs. A. Scott Fenney, the most beautiful woman in Highland Park. I felt like I was always onstage … or in a cage. Like an animal in the zoo, everyone staring at me. When the cage door opened, I ran." She faced him. "I'm sorry, Scott. I know I hurt you … both of you."
They walked another block before Rebecca spoke again.
"Can I see her? Boo."
EIGHT
"And Scotty Junior was a girl named Boo," Rebecca said.
Scott had parked in the shade of the beach house, but they had not gotten out. They sat and watched Boo on the beach. She had changed into a white swimsuit and was building a sand castle with a little shovel and bucket. Her head of red hair bobbed like a buoy in the Gulf.
"Last time I saw her, she had her hair in cornrows."
"That lasted a while then she went to the ponytail."
"She's so tall."
"She's eleven now."
"I sent her birthday presents."
Boo had never opened them.
"How is she?"
"She's good. Makes straight As. They both do."
"Both who?"
"She and her sister."
" Sister? You remarried?"
"I adopted."
He pointed at Pajamae, who came running down the beach to Boo. Louis soon followed and stood watch nearby,
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