Read Online Slow Dancing by Suzanne Jenkins - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Suzanne Jenkins
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two.” He nodded at her, mouth hanging open. She stood back up maintaining eye contact with him as she moved on to the next guy. Alan watched her slowly walk along the edge of the stage, running her hands down her body and turning first one way and then the next, glancing over at Alan when she could and smiling sweetly at him.
Even Galveston could be cold in November after the sun went down, but Alan waited outside for Janelle as she asked him to, freezing in his shirtsleeves. He took a last drag and threw his cigarette on the ground, grinding it with his heel when she opened the door, putting her coat on. “God it’s freezing out here,” she said, looking at his bare arms. “Are you okay?”
“I’m good,” he said. “My car’s right over there.” He pointed down the block. “Do you want to meet somewhere or are you okay about leaving with me?” She thought he was being very considerate.
“I can leave with you,” she said, gesturing over her shoulder to the building. “They know who I’m with.” They walked in silence to his car. She was ready to sleep with him if she had to.
“Where’s your place?” He asked.
“I rent a room in the East End, “she answered, looking at him concerned. “I know it sounds strange, but my landlady doesn’t allow men in the rooms.”
“Oh, well, I can see the wisdom of that. For safety sake,” he said. “My place isn’t in the best neighborhood.” He looked concerned. “I don’t keep the neatest place, either.”
“I don’t care about that,” she said. “Do you have any food?” He did, having just shopped. And Alan liked to cook, too. So their first date involved cleaning his kitchen so he could fix her breakfast, a shower for her and sleep on his couch.
At noon the next morning, she woke up to the sound of a key turning in a lock as Alan came home for lunch. “I figured you might need to go home to get ready for work.”
“Yeah, I guess I better,” she said, sitting up.
“I’ll make you some coffee now,” he said. “But I thought, if you’d like, you can pack a bag and come back here tonight.” She looked around his living room, at the piles of papers and dusty furniture. It needed cleaning, but it wasn’t bad for the crappy neighborhood it was in.
“Okay, I guess I’d like that, if you’re sure.”
“We can be roommates unless something else develops,” he replied with a smile. So that’s how he forgot about Margaret.
Moving in together, they played house for almost a month until she discovered photographs of beautiful Margaret Fisher. It took them a few days to work their way back to the bedroom, and a few weeks for Janelle to grow tired of the squalor of his messy apartment. It was during a cleaning spree she came across an envelope filled with colored photos of a naked woman. Alan forgot he had the photographs; his version of artistic poses using a Polaroid. The images could have been random, taken by anyone, but Alan the ego-maniac had to make sure he was in several of them, laying on the bed next to the woman, holding the camera arms length to get both faces in the frame, as well as one perky breast. Nagging Alan about Margaret, she was jealous and suspicious.
“She’s someone from the past,” Alan said. “Haven’t seen her since I moved to Galveston.”
“How long were you together?” Janelle asked. She was standing at the stove, debating whether or not to distract him with egg frying, or throw the pan in his face.
“Not long,” Alan said, trying to remember exact dates. “Less than a year.”
“Why’d you split up?”
“I moved here and she wanted to stay in Saint Augustine.” He was lying, but he didn’t want to admit he’d borrowed money from Margaret to run away. He’d lied to Margaret, too. There had never been a better job, or corporate begging him to head up the sales team. The bill collectors and loan sharks were closing in on him, and he was in so deep he had to leave.
When Janelle grew tired
Even Galveston could be cold in November after the sun went down, but Alan waited outside for Janelle as she asked him to, freezing in his shirtsleeves. He took a last drag and threw his cigarette on the ground, grinding it with his heel when she opened the door, putting her coat on. “God it’s freezing out here,” she said, looking at his bare arms. “Are you okay?”
“I’m good,” he said. “My car’s right over there.” He pointed down the block. “Do you want to meet somewhere or are you okay about leaving with me?” She thought he was being very considerate.
“I can leave with you,” she said, gesturing over her shoulder to the building. “They know who I’m with.” They walked in silence to his car. She was ready to sleep with him if she had to.
“Where’s your place?” He asked.
“I rent a room in the East End, “she answered, looking at him concerned. “I know it sounds strange, but my landlady doesn’t allow men in the rooms.”
“Oh, well, I can see the wisdom of that. For safety sake,” he said. “My place isn’t in the best neighborhood.” He looked concerned. “I don’t keep the neatest place, either.”
“I don’t care about that,” she said. “Do you have any food?” He did, having just shopped. And Alan liked to cook, too. So their first date involved cleaning his kitchen so he could fix her breakfast, a shower for her and sleep on his couch.
At noon the next morning, she woke up to the sound of a key turning in a lock as Alan came home for lunch. “I figured you might need to go home to get ready for work.”
“Yeah, I guess I better,” she said, sitting up.
“I’ll make you some coffee now,” he said. “But I thought, if you’d like, you can pack a bag and come back here tonight.” She looked around his living room, at the piles of papers and dusty furniture. It needed cleaning, but it wasn’t bad for the crappy neighborhood it was in.
“Okay, I guess I’d like that, if you’re sure.”
“We can be roommates unless something else develops,” he replied with a smile. So that’s how he forgot about Margaret.
Moving in together, they played house for almost a month until she discovered photographs of beautiful Margaret Fisher. It took them a few days to work their way back to the bedroom, and a few weeks for Janelle to grow tired of the squalor of his messy apartment. It was during a cleaning spree she came across an envelope filled with colored photos of a naked woman. Alan forgot he had the photographs; his version of artistic poses using a Polaroid. The images could have been random, taken by anyone, but Alan the ego-maniac had to make sure he was in several of them, laying on the bed next to the woman, holding the camera arms length to get both faces in the frame, as well as one perky breast. Nagging Alan about Margaret, she was jealous and suspicious.
“She’s someone from the past,” Alan said. “Haven’t seen her since I moved to Galveston.”
“How long were you together?” Janelle asked. She was standing at the stove, debating whether or not to distract him with egg frying, or throw the pan in his face.
“Not long,” Alan said, trying to remember exact dates. “Less than a year.”
“Why’d you split up?”
“I moved here and she wanted to stay in Saint Augustine.” He was lying, but he didn’t want to admit he’d borrowed money from Margaret to run away. He’d lied to Margaret, too. There had never been a better job, or corporate begging him to head up the sales team. The bill collectors and loan sharks were closing in on him, and he was in so deep he had to leave.
When Janelle grew tired
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