Nick gave Julie's leg a gentle squeeze as the final credits rolled. Then he took his hand away. When the lights came on, she smiled at him. "Well," she said, "what did you think?"
"The movie? It was all right."
"A real gross-out, huh?"
"That's for sure."
"Well, I'm glad poor Ralph finally got his wish. He sure worked hard enough for it."
The words excited Nick. He wiped his sweaty hands on his pants. "Are you ready for some popcorn or something?"
Julie got that mysterious look on her face. "That depends."
"On what?"
"How badly do you want to see the next movie?"
The question stunned Nick. He stared at her. "What do you mean?"
"Dad says I have to be home by eleven. It's only eight-thirty. If we leave now…" She raised her eyebrows. "What do you think?"
"Are you serious?"
"If you'd rather stay for the movie. "
"No. I don't care about that. I… uh… I don't think we'd win any points with your dad."
"He doesn't have to know."
"Jeez, Julie."
"Are you game?"
He let out an uneasy laugh. "Yeah, sure, I guess so."
"Great. Let's get out of here." She slung her purse strap over her shoulder, and stood up.
They sidestepped toward the aisle. Nick felt tight and jittery. We shouldn't do this, he thought. But he wanted to. He was scared, but he wanted to.
Where'll we go? Park someplace. Oh, my God.
In the lobby, she squeezed his hand. "Right back," she said, and pushed through a restroom door.
He remembered his promise not to let her out of his sight. Well, he couldn't follow her into the ladies' room. Ralph might, but not him.
He hurried to the men's room. One of the urinals was vacant. He stepped up to it. The underside of his penis felt wet and slick. Either the movie or Julie had excited him a lot. He didn't think it was the movie.
In the lobby again, he looked for Julie. He didn't see her. Apparently, she was still in the restroom. He waited. Slowly, the line at the refreshment stand dwindled. An usher in a red blazer shut the doors to the auditorium, signaling the start of the second feature.
Nick paced. He stared at the restroom door.
It finally opened, but the girl who came out wasn't Julie.
What was taking her so long?
Had something gone wrong?
The girl behind the refreshment counter was pumping butter flavoring onto a tub of popcorn for the last customer. Maybe, when she finished, Nick would ask her to check on Julie. That could turn out embarrassing.
He'd give Julie a couple more minutes.
He gazed at the second hand of the wall clock behind the counter. It moved quickly, sweeping past the numbers. He watched it make three circuits of the face. Still, he hesitated to interfere.
The restroom door stayed shut.
Come on, Julie! What's wrong?
Chapter Thirty-four
Can I turn it up?" Rose asked.
"May I durn'd up," Alice corrected, her speech thick from too much wine.
"Go ahead," Flash said. He could hardly hear himself think, much less hear the television. The helicopter was making another pass low over the house. It had been circling the neighborhood for the past ten minutes, the whapping noise of its rotors deafening at times, then receding, then growing to a roar as it came back.
He watched Rose crawl to the television, reach up with her bandaged arm, and turn up the volume. She crawled backward to the place where she'd been sitting on the carpet. She crossed her legs.
Alice stared at the ceiling. She looked as if she might cry. "Why dudn' he go 'way," she said.
"Must be looking for a prowler. This time, at least, it's not three o'clock in the morning." That's when the police helicopter usually put in its appearance — seemed like once a month — waking them up, circling for half an hour, sometimes as long as an hour, hovering low over the houses, its searchlight sweeping the lawns and streets. It was a nuisance. A little frightening, too. It reminded him of 'Nam, and it wasn't used for routine patrols. Its presence meant that a suspect was out there. Somewhere close. You always wondered who he was, what he'd done, where he might be lurking.
Alice, beside him on the couch, leaned forward and reached out with her left hand. Her fingertips bumped the wineglass, knocked it over. Chablis sloshed out onto the table.
Heather, in a rocking chair across the room, looked up from her book and frowned.
Alice saw her. "You try'n use yer lef han'," she blurted. Her face was puckered and red.
Flash rubbed the back of Alice's neck. The tense muscles felt like iron. "It's okay, honey. We all have little accidents. I'll clean it up."
She nodded. Her lips were pressed together. She stared down at her right arm, wrapped in a cast from fingertips to shoulder, held against her chest by a sling. Her mouth started to tremble.
"I'll get you some more wine, too," Flash said as he pushed himself off the couch.
Heather put down her book. She followed him to the kitchen and leaned against the stove, watching him take a fresh bottle of wine and a can of Budweiser from the refrigerator. Her pale eyebrows were drawn together.
"Don't let your face freeze that way," Flash said.
"She's bombed," Heather said.
"Don't say that."
"Well, she is."
"So what," he snapped.
Heather flinched and blinked. She looked as if she might start bawling.
"I'm sorry," Flash said. "It's all this damn noise.''
"You shouldn't let her drink so much."
"If she wants to get plastered out of her skull tonight, that's fine by me. Normally, I'd…" He realized he didn't need to talk so loudly; the roar of the chopper had faded a bit. "Normally, I'd be right with you, honey. It's not good to drink too much. But your mother went through a terrifying experience this morning. She and Rose both."
"Rose isn't getting bombed."
"She can if she wants."
Heather looked as if she thought her father had gone crazy.
"Why don't you wipe off the coffee table for me?"
With a shrug of her delicate shoulders, she limped ova to the counter. She tore a yard of paper towels off the roll.
"How's the ankle?"
"It hurts some." She grinned. "Can I get bombed?"
"Do you want to?"
"No," she said. She arched an eyebrow. "I'll keep my wits about me, thank you." Then she hobbled out of the kitchen, the towels fluttering behind her like a streamer.
Flash uncorked the wine bottle. He popped the tab of his beer can. As he carried them into the living room, the telephone rang, adding its clamor to the noise of the approaching helicopter.
"The phone," Alice said.
"I'll get it," he told her. It rang two mores times as he filled her glass.
"Might be Nick," she said, a look of fear in her eyes.
Taking the beer with him, he rushed back into the kitchen and snatched up the receiver. "Hello?"
"Hi, Flash, it's Scott."
"Anything wrong?"
"The kids are. " The roar of the helicopter drowned him out.
"What was that? We've got one of those fucking cop choppers raising Cain."
"I was just saying the kids are off to the movies. How're Alice and Rose doing?"