apartment is beautiful – but not nearly as beautiful as you.’
She smiled slightly. It annoyed him how she lifted that chin, took his compliments for granted. She wasn’t grateful . She, a waitress, was treating Edward Johnson as her equal. Not for long.
‘Shall we go?’ he asked.
The first night he kept it low-key: dinner in a semi-nice Italian restaurant; a chaste kiss at the door to thank her for a lovely evening.
The next day, he sent over flowers: a small bunch of yellow roses – nothing spectacular.
Wednesday, he asked her out again. They watched a movie, laughed about it on the way home. He asked her about herself, and drifted into his own thoughts when she answered.
On Saturday, another dinner – French, this time. Edward could be patient. One false move and the game was up.
Dina was incredibly beautiful. Each night, she made herself up so differently, yet always the same pretty face; it was like dating a thousand girls.
He almost regretted that the game was nearly over.
‘You seem happy,’ Mike said, suspiciously.
This wasn’t the Dina Kane he knew. She was less of a robot, moving around with a smile on her face. She’d started to take her lunchbreaks, sitting with a cup of cinnamon coffee and reading those crumpled little notes her boyfriend sent her.
Even in the daytime, she had begun to wear cosmetics. His male clientele was slowly enlarging. Moms liked to be around her, too. Now their restaurant wasn’t just super-efficient, it was cheerful.
‘I am happy.’
‘The new man? Who is this lucky guy?’ Mike asked.
‘It’s a mystery. I could tell you, but I’d have to kill you.’ And Dina laughed.
After three weeks, Edward made his move. They had been kissing; first on the cheek, then the lips, then a little tongue. She was nervous, ungainly. He liked that; it made him laugh. What if she was a virgin? Dina Kane was the trophy of the year in his set. If he popped her cherry too . . . Christ, they would have to set up a statue for him.
He did it right: dinner at a local restaurant downtown; lots of talk about family. He said he might like to meet her brother, her mom. Yeah, right – the Johnsons didn’t socialise with those kinds of people. Daddy was going to run for Congress next year; he had all the donors lining up. Momma was a socialite and only mixed with exactly the right group. She threw benefit dinners to help people like the Kanes. The thought made him laugh.
Edward Johnson was never going to mix with the Kanes.
Dina should be flattered that she was getting any attention at all from him. She was the finest piece of ass out there on the scene for months, a trophy lay, and so he was doing something unfamiliar: he was actually putting work into her.
He asked around among the other waiters, offering a few twenties here and there, and he’d soon found out a lot of what he needed to know. Dina came from Tuckahoe, Westchester. She had been a good student, no boyfriends, the daughter of a dead, drunk workman. Her mother had fucked around with some Italian boys for a while. He liked that idea; it made him kind of hard, knowing her weakness. Hey, she had that prissy attitude, but the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Edward fantasised about fucking Dina, breaking her in and getting the credit, then maybe passing her around his friends. Girls like her and her mom were just hookers by another name. You dressed up the tips with dinners and flowers, but in the end they were leisure activities for powerful men. Edward Johnson considered himself just that – a powerful man, in training. Hunting the stuck-up waitress was just too much fun.
He thought about her slutty mother, and smiled.
‘I’d like you to meet my family.’ Dina was acting shy; it was sexy. ‘And you can take me to meet yours . . . I’d like to say hello to the Fieldings.’
She still hadn’t twigged to the false name. That was the beauty of it. He paid restaurant bills in cash, always plenty of
She smiled slightly. It annoyed him how she lifted that chin, took his compliments for granted. She wasn’t grateful . She, a waitress, was treating Edward Johnson as her equal. Not for long.
‘Shall we go?’ he asked.
The first night he kept it low-key: dinner in a semi-nice Italian restaurant; a chaste kiss at the door to thank her for a lovely evening.
The next day, he sent over flowers: a small bunch of yellow roses – nothing spectacular.
Wednesday, he asked her out again. They watched a movie, laughed about it on the way home. He asked her about herself, and drifted into his own thoughts when she answered.
On Saturday, another dinner – French, this time. Edward could be patient. One false move and the game was up.
Dina was incredibly beautiful. Each night, she made herself up so differently, yet always the same pretty face; it was like dating a thousand girls.
He almost regretted that the game was nearly over.
‘You seem happy,’ Mike said, suspiciously.
This wasn’t the Dina Kane he knew. She was less of a robot, moving around with a smile on her face. She’d started to take her lunchbreaks, sitting with a cup of cinnamon coffee and reading those crumpled little notes her boyfriend sent her.
Even in the daytime, she had begun to wear cosmetics. His male clientele was slowly enlarging. Moms liked to be around her, too. Now their restaurant wasn’t just super-efficient, it was cheerful.
‘I am happy.’
‘The new man? Who is this lucky guy?’ Mike asked.
‘It’s a mystery. I could tell you, but I’d have to kill you.’ And Dina laughed.
After three weeks, Edward made his move. They had been kissing; first on the cheek, then the lips, then a little tongue. She was nervous, ungainly. He liked that; it made him laugh. What if she was a virgin? Dina Kane was the trophy of the year in his set. If he popped her cherry too . . . Christ, they would have to set up a statue for him.
He did it right: dinner at a local restaurant downtown; lots of talk about family. He said he might like to meet her brother, her mom. Yeah, right – the Johnsons didn’t socialise with those kinds of people. Daddy was going to run for Congress next year; he had all the donors lining up. Momma was a socialite and only mixed with exactly the right group. She threw benefit dinners to help people like the Kanes. The thought made him laugh.
Edward Johnson was never going to mix with the Kanes.
Dina should be flattered that she was getting any attention at all from him. She was the finest piece of ass out there on the scene for months, a trophy lay, and so he was doing something unfamiliar: he was actually putting work into her.
He asked around among the other waiters, offering a few twenties here and there, and he’d soon found out a lot of what he needed to know. Dina came from Tuckahoe, Westchester. She had been a good student, no boyfriends, the daughter of a dead, drunk workman. Her mother had fucked around with some Italian boys for a while. He liked that idea; it made him kind of hard, knowing her weakness. Hey, she had that prissy attitude, but the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Edward fantasised about fucking Dina, breaking her in and getting the credit, then maybe passing her around his friends. Girls like her and her mom were just hookers by another name. You dressed up the tips with dinners and flowers, but in the end they were leisure activities for powerful men. Edward Johnson considered himself just that – a powerful man, in training. Hunting the stuck-up waitress was just too much fun.
He thought about her slutty mother, and smiled.
‘I’d like you to meet my family.’ Dina was acting shy; it was sexy. ‘And you can take me to meet yours . . . I’d like to say hello to the Fieldings.’
She still hadn’t twigged to the false name. That was the beauty of it. He paid restaurant bills in cash, always plenty of
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