Read Online Amerika by Brauna E. Pouns, Donald Wrye - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Brauna E. Pouns, Donald Wrye
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risk.”
She turned angrily and headed toward the door.
“Kimberly. I am not free to do anything I want, the way I want. I have superiors to whom I must answer. I am surrounded by spies and informers—both American and Soviet. There are old men in the Kremlin who have always been, and still are, suspicious of our entire plan of occupation. They would feel much more comfortable with America crushed by an iron fist. And they may yet do it.”
She watched him a moment, then walked out the door. Andrei turned back to his desk.
Peter Bradford sighed as he stopped the Wagoneer in his driveway and saw the Harley. He promised himself he’d be civil to Justin, if only out of respect for the Milfords. But as a father he couldn’t be expected to approve of this romance. Justin had no future; it was that simple. Maybe he’d gotten a raw deal because of Devin, but the local PPP would never give him a college recommendation, or a travel permit, or an employment certification. Justin was left with few options: a laborer’s job, if he were lucky, jail or exile if he continued his “antisocial” behavior.
Peter got out of his car and headed for the back door just as Jacqueline and Justin came through the front door. “Hi Justin. Where are you guys going?”
“Out for a ride,” Justin answered.
“You got gas?”
“Sure, com gas,” Justin replied, smiling. “Borrowed from the tractor.”
Peter looked at Ms daughter, who kept her face slightly averted from him. “Honey, can I speak to you for a minute?”
“What for?” Her eyes were still red from crying after her disappointment that afternoon at the dance tryouts. “Just come here, please. Excuse us, Justin,”
“Sure.” He shrugged, watching Jackie. She followed her father back into the house and then stopped at the door, remaining a dozen feet behind him. Peter realized instantly that she would come no closer.
“Where are you going?”
“We told you. Out. For a ride.”
“I don’t like you going out with Mm.”
“Really? I’d never guess. You’re so subtle.”
“Look, Jackie. He’s a loser. And you’re not. It doesn’t make sense.”
“I like Mm. His father works for you.”
“And I can tell you that boy is no source of pride to the Milfords.”
“Well, that’s what’s important, all right,” she snapped, and headed for the door.
He did not want to fight. “Look, your mom and I have to go to Omaha. I don’t want you out after curfew.”
She turned to look at him, tears in her eyes. “God, Daddy, you don’t understand anything.” She raced from the house and moments later he heard the roar of H the motorcycle. Peter shook Ms head, wondering what he had done wrong.
An hour later, Peter, in his best suit and tie, and Arnanda, dressed in a simple blue evening gown, were speeding along the freeway toward Omaha. They had an armed escort, two UNSSU motorcyclists, their red lights flasMng. The lights blotted the stars out of the vast midwestem sky.
“These escorts make me feel like a fool,” Peter grumbled.
“Worse yet, they make you look like the enemy.”
“Thanks.”
“I gather you had words with Jackie and Justin when they left.”
“She knows how I feel about that boy.”
“Did you ask Jackie how her day went?”
“I didn’t have time. Why, something special?” “Tryouts for the district company.”
“Damn, I forgot. How’d it go?”
“She was rejected.”
“Somebody beat her out?”
“Yes, the bitches who were doing the judging.” “Why?”
“She was too good. Too original. Too individual.” She laughed darkly. “Ail the things we taught her to
be.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means the judges denounced modem dance. They want the Bolshoi in Nebraska. Politically acceptable ballet. You know what one of them had the nerve to say to me? ‘Sometimes cooperation is more important than talent.’ ”
“Somebody actually told her that?”
“They told me. But we know ail about
She turned angrily and headed toward the door.
“Kimberly. I am not free to do anything I want, the way I want. I have superiors to whom I must answer. I am surrounded by spies and informers—both American and Soviet. There are old men in the Kremlin who have always been, and still are, suspicious of our entire plan of occupation. They would feel much more comfortable with America crushed by an iron fist. And they may yet do it.”
She watched him a moment, then walked out the door. Andrei turned back to his desk.
Peter Bradford sighed as he stopped the Wagoneer in his driveway and saw the Harley. He promised himself he’d be civil to Justin, if only out of respect for the Milfords. But as a father he couldn’t be expected to approve of this romance. Justin had no future; it was that simple. Maybe he’d gotten a raw deal because of Devin, but the local PPP would never give him a college recommendation, or a travel permit, or an employment certification. Justin was left with few options: a laborer’s job, if he were lucky, jail or exile if he continued his “antisocial” behavior.
Peter got out of his car and headed for the back door just as Jacqueline and Justin came through the front door. “Hi Justin. Where are you guys going?”
“Out for a ride,” Justin answered.
“You got gas?”
“Sure, com gas,” Justin replied, smiling. “Borrowed from the tractor.”
Peter looked at Ms daughter, who kept her face slightly averted from him. “Honey, can I speak to you for a minute?”
“What for?” Her eyes were still red from crying after her disappointment that afternoon at the dance tryouts. “Just come here, please. Excuse us, Justin,”
“Sure.” He shrugged, watching Jackie. She followed her father back into the house and then stopped at the door, remaining a dozen feet behind him. Peter realized instantly that she would come no closer.
“Where are you going?”
“We told you. Out. For a ride.”
“I don’t like you going out with Mm.”
“Really? I’d never guess. You’re so subtle.”
“Look, Jackie. He’s a loser. And you’re not. It doesn’t make sense.”
“I like Mm. His father works for you.”
“And I can tell you that boy is no source of pride to the Milfords.”
“Well, that’s what’s important, all right,” she snapped, and headed for the door.
He did not want to fight. “Look, your mom and I have to go to Omaha. I don’t want you out after curfew.”
She turned to look at him, tears in her eyes. “God, Daddy, you don’t understand anything.” She raced from the house and moments later he heard the roar of H the motorcycle. Peter shook Ms head, wondering what he had done wrong.
An hour later, Peter, in his best suit and tie, and Arnanda, dressed in a simple blue evening gown, were speeding along the freeway toward Omaha. They had an armed escort, two UNSSU motorcyclists, their red lights flasMng. The lights blotted the stars out of the vast midwestem sky.
“These escorts make me feel like a fool,” Peter grumbled.
“Worse yet, they make you look like the enemy.”
“Thanks.”
“I gather you had words with Jackie and Justin when they left.”
“She knows how I feel about that boy.”
“Did you ask Jackie how her day went?”
“I didn’t have time. Why, something special?” “Tryouts for the district company.”
“Damn, I forgot. How’d it go?”
“She was rejected.”
“Somebody beat her out?”
“Yes, the bitches who were doing the judging.” “Why?”
“She was too good. Too original. Too individual.” She laughed darkly. “Ail the things we taught her to
be.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means the judges denounced modem dance. They want the Bolshoi in Nebraska. Politically acceptable ballet. You know what one of them had the nerve to say to me? ‘Sometimes cooperation is more important than talent.’ ”
“Somebody actually told her that?”
“They told me. But we know ail about
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