Read Online Little Did I Know: A Novel by Mitchell Maxwell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mitchell Maxwell
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hell to pay.”
“Not to worry, Sid. Being nice to Veronica is a privilege. I’m just fortunate she has the time for me.”
His severe look turned to mirth and then a belly laugh. “I’m just fuckin with yous kid, that’s all. Veronica told me she was coming in tonight and I got permission to treat you right if I liked you. And I do. So does my girl here.” He placed a wine bucket on the bar with two crystal flutes and poured us each a glass from a bottle that read Dom Pérignon Vintage 1968.
“A millionaire’s milkshake,” he said. “Have fun, kids.” Then he walked the length of the bar and drew a pint for one of the other customers.
Veronica and I giggled and drank, and I realized that for a guy who didn’t like champagne I was getting pretty darned used to it. The piano man began to play “The Way You Look Tonight,” and Veronica took my hand and led me to the parquet floor where we danced cheek to cheek. The piano man picked up the tempo and we were soon moving to a faster beat. I thought it apropos that we could both rock and roll all over the dance floor but also, more important, dance close without stepping on each other’s toes. The music slowed down again. I whispered in Veronica’s ear, “Who the hell is Sidney?”
Our slow dancing soon deteriorated into nothing more than grinding up against each another. I was aroused and desired Veronica more than ever, but I was afraid that Sidney might jump the bar to wallop me. Considering the size of my boner, no one would have blamed him. I took my sweatshirt off and tied it around my waist.
“Clever,” Veronica said. “Let’s eat. Our table’s ready.”
We were seated at a table next to the window. The shrimp crunched a bit when you took a first bite. After this came huge cherrystone clams covered in stinging horseradish and dabs of Tabasco sauce, and lobster meat pulled from the shell and bathed in butter. Dessert was cherry pie with a cream cheese crust topped with gobs of whipped cream. Delicious foreplay.
The rain came harder now, drumming angrily against the pane. The night was still black as ink, and all one could see were the phosphorescent whitecaps dancing above the swirling invisible sea.
Veronica poured us both a glass of Napa Valley white, the Dom Pérignon long gone. I realized the piano man had gone home and Sidney was offering last call to the remaining stragglers, who had already had enough. I reached for her hand and she allowed me to take it. Without words, we both knew it was time to go.
12
O utside, it was pouring. There was a strong, cold wind off the ocean that turned the stinging raindrops horizontal. “Willie” was nowhere to be found; he had left my car alone in the empty lot with the windows wide open. It was flooded, clearly going nowhere for a while, and despite the cold, brisk wind I was in no position to drive. I didn’t trust that Veronica was capable either.
“My car is fucked,” I said as I rolled up the windows, “and you’re tipsy. I think we should go inside and call a cab.”
“I don’t think so,” she shouted. Then she sprinted toward the woods, her boots splashing through the shiny puddles and her clothes drenched and clinging within seconds. “Come on, you chicken. Get wet.” I watched Veronica for all of a heartbeat and then raced to catch up with her. My gut told me there were still some surprises ahead as Monday night had turned to Tuesday morning.
Veronica had disappeared into the woods. I was hoping she’d left a trail like Hansel and Gretel, but unfortunately there was nothing. She was just gone. Was that her surprise—leaving me freezing and stranded in the pelting rain with a disappointed libido? I began to inch my way into the harrowing forest. The wind whistled and the trees seemed to come alive with palpable menace. I squinted in the dark and saw a sliver of light coming from the open door of a barely visible house. I moved ahead faster until I could see that the house
“Not to worry, Sid. Being nice to Veronica is a privilege. I’m just fortunate she has the time for me.”
His severe look turned to mirth and then a belly laugh. “I’m just fuckin with yous kid, that’s all. Veronica told me she was coming in tonight and I got permission to treat you right if I liked you. And I do. So does my girl here.” He placed a wine bucket on the bar with two crystal flutes and poured us each a glass from a bottle that read Dom Pérignon Vintage 1968.
“A millionaire’s milkshake,” he said. “Have fun, kids.” Then he walked the length of the bar and drew a pint for one of the other customers.
Veronica and I giggled and drank, and I realized that for a guy who didn’t like champagne I was getting pretty darned used to it. The piano man began to play “The Way You Look Tonight,” and Veronica took my hand and led me to the parquet floor where we danced cheek to cheek. The piano man picked up the tempo and we were soon moving to a faster beat. I thought it apropos that we could both rock and roll all over the dance floor but also, more important, dance close without stepping on each other’s toes. The music slowed down again. I whispered in Veronica’s ear, “Who the hell is Sidney?”
Our slow dancing soon deteriorated into nothing more than grinding up against each another. I was aroused and desired Veronica more than ever, but I was afraid that Sidney might jump the bar to wallop me. Considering the size of my boner, no one would have blamed him. I took my sweatshirt off and tied it around my waist.
“Clever,” Veronica said. “Let’s eat. Our table’s ready.”
We were seated at a table next to the window. The shrimp crunched a bit when you took a first bite. After this came huge cherrystone clams covered in stinging horseradish and dabs of Tabasco sauce, and lobster meat pulled from the shell and bathed in butter. Dessert was cherry pie with a cream cheese crust topped with gobs of whipped cream. Delicious foreplay.
The rain came harder now, drumming angrily against the pane. The night was still black as ink, and all one could see were the phosphorescent whitecaps dancing above the swirling invisible sea.
Veronica poured us both a glass of Napa Valley white, the Dom Pérignon long gone. I realized the piano man had gone home and Sidney was offering last call to the remaining stragglers, who had already had enough. I reached for her hand and she allowed me to take it. Without words, we both knew it was time to go.
12
O utside, it was pouring. There was a strong, cold wind off the ocean that turned the stinging raindrops horizontal. “Willie” was nowhere to be found; he had left my car alone in the empty lot with the windows wide open. It was flooded, clearly going nowhere for a while, and despite the cold, brisk wind I was in no position to drive. I didn’t trust that Veronica was capable either.
“My car is fucked,” I said as I rolled up the windows, “and you’re tipsy. I think we should go inside and call a cab.”
“I don’t think so,” she shouted. Then she sprinted toward the woods, her boots splashing through the shiny puddles and her clothes drenched and clinging within seconds. “Come on, you chicken. Get wet.” I watched Veronica for all of a heartbeat and then raced to catch up with her. My gut told me there were still some surprises ahead as Monday night had turned to Tuesday morning.
Veronica had disappeared into the woods. I was hoping she’d left a trail like Hansel and Gretel, but unfortunately there was nothing. She was just gone. Was that her surprise—leaving me freezing and stranded in the pelting rain with a disappointed libido? I began to inch my way into the harrowing forest. The wind whistled and the trees seemed to come alive with palpable menace. I squinted in the dark and saw a sliver of light coming from the open door of a barely visible house. I moved ahead faster until I could see that the house
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