by Sharon Sala
The address she’d given him meant nothing. He didn’t know front from back in that town. He just kept repeating the directions she’d given him as he drove into town.
Turn right at the station just past the…Go two blocks north and then take a left at the…
Finally, he turned onto a residential street and breathed a sigh of relief as he saw a familiar red car parked in front of an elegant, two-story, frame and rock home. He pulled into the driveway. Her parents weren’t supposed to be here. He was to meet them later at the prom where they were serving as chaperons. He took a deep breath and knocked. The things I do for you.
It swung back almost instantly. She must have been watching out a window. The smile on her face was no less breathtaking than the dress she was wearing. It was strapless. And other than thinking she looked like she’d just stepped off a cake, Chance would have been unable to describe it. The layers and layers of frothy white lace, tipped with the palest of pink, brushed against each other with a swish-swoosh as she walked toward him. The skirt of the dress yielded and then seemed to float around his legs as he walked into her embrace and kissed her softly on the cheek. This Victoria made him nervous. She looked like a princess, and he felt like a damned frog.
“For me?” she asked, pointing to the corsage.
“Oh, here,” he said, suddenly embarrassed. “I don’t know where you’ll wear it, though. If you’d told me you wouldn’t have a…I mean if I’d have known that the dress didn’t have a…”
Victoria laughed. “Chance McCall. I think you’re embarrassed. It’s got to be a first. And it’s good for you, my man. You’re entirely too worldly for me. Come on. The dance won’t wait…and neither can I.”
Before he knew it, they were in the car with the corsage pinned at her waist. Silly smiles, stolen kisses, and a pounding heart, got him to the prom under Victoria’s directions. He parked Charlie’s car, vaulted from his seat, and hurried around to the passenger side to help Victoria and her skirt make as graceful an exit as possible from the car.
“You look so good,” Victoria said softly, as she pulled at a crook in his tie. “All tall, dark, and handsome in this tuxedo. I’m going to have to fight the girls off of you all night, and you know it.”
He grinned. “I may have to fight, but I doubt it’ll be girls, honey. You’re the one who looks good enough to eat. Now come on, let’s get this over with. I don’t know how or why I let you talk me into it.”
“Hush. Come on. Let’s go get this meeting with my parents over with so we can enjoy the dance.”
The smile on his face disappeared. He didn’t have a good feeling about this. And, looking back later, Chance knew he should have followed his instincts.
“Oh my God!” Margaret Henry muttered through a fake smile, as she nodded at an acquaintance and then stared at the couple coming through the door.
She’d known her daughter had been making a lot of trips in her new car, as she’d been paying the gas bill. But she’d never imagined that it would be to another world. That’s where boys like that one came from. In Margaret’s day, it had been called, “the wrong side of the tracks.”
Her eyes missed nothing of the unconscious swagger and dark, knowing eyes that’d seen more of the world than Victoria even knew existed.
“What?” Logan Henry sighed. He hated occasions like these, yet he knew that their standing in the community demanded that they attend them. Especially this year, when their only child was a graduating senior.
“Victoria!” Margaret hissed. “She’s just walked in with her surprise. I told you she’d been up to something. But you assured me that it was nothing. You told me to leave her alone, let her try out her wings. Well Logan, I hope you’re satisfied. It looks to me like your little chicken has flown the coop. I think a fox has been in the hen house.”
“My God, Margaret. Your metaphors boggle the mind. What the hell are you…?”
He turned and looked in the direction of his wife’s anger. Every sin he’d ever committed had just come in the door to haunt him. Logan forgot to finish his sentence. He didn’t hear Margaret’s answer, or the music that had already begun to blare. He saw no one except the tall, dark boy who’d just walked in on his daughter’s arm.
“No!” It came out. Unexpected. Unpreventable.
Margaret turned and stared. “Not now!” she hissed. “Don’t you dare make a scene! This is Victoria’s night. She won’t forgive you…and neither will I if you ruin this for her. Do you hear me, Logan Henry?”
He watched, horrified, as they came toward him.
“Mother…Daddy…I want you to meet my friend, Chance McCall. Chance, these are my parents, Margaret and Logan Henry.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Henry,” Chance said, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.” His gaze slid from Margaret’s face then back to Victoria’s. “Victoria, you have much to be grateful for.”
“Why?” she asked.
“That your father had the good sense to marry someone as beautiful as your mother. You two look more like sisters than mother and daughter.”
In spite of herself, Margaret Henry blushed. It had been years since she’d heard a compliment as ingenious…and as nicely put. She smiled, just a bit. It wouldn’t do to get too familiar with someone who’d have to go, but she could see what had drawn Victoria. The boy had magnetism. A lot of magnetism.
“Thank you,” she said, answering Chance’s compliment. “You know, we haven’t met you before, have we? But…you really remind me of someone. Are you from Midland? Who are your people? Maybe I’ve met your mother and just didn’t—”
“Mother,” Victoria broke in, “you don’t have to learn someone’s family history every time you meet.” She turned and smiled up at the closed expression on Chance’s face, hoping that it would soon disappear. She’d seen it come and go more than once during their relationship.
“It doesn’t matter,” Chance answered shortly. “She has a right, Victoria. If I were her, I’d want to know who someone as special as you are is with, too.”
Margaret winced. She didn’t want to like this boy. But it was becoming more and more difficult. She turned to her husband, hoping for a sign of support from him. It was obvious from the look on his face that she’d get nothing here. He looked like he was about to have a heart attack.
“And no, ma’am,” Chance said, “I’m not from Midland. I’m from Odessa.”
Logan Henry inhaled sharply. He’d known it! But hearing it confirmed made it all the worse.
“And as for meeting my mother…I doubt it unless you’ve ever been in Crosby’s bar and ordered a drink.”
Complete and total silence met his answer. He stared into their eyes, waiting for the shock to appear, for the argument to ensue. To Margaret Henry’s credit, neither happened. And it took everything she had to assure herself that it did not.
“Well!” she finally said. “I’m sure your father appreciates the extra paycheck. Jobs are hard to come by nowadays. I’ve heard—”
“I don’t know my father, Mrs. Henry. Never had the pleasure.” The slow drawl was thick with old anger.
Margaret saw something other than defensiveness in the boy’s eyes. She saw a wall of pain.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “None of this matters except that you and Victoria have a wonderful evening, you hear? Victoria, you look absolutely beautiful. And that corsage is exquisite, if I do say so. You have good taste, Chance. It’s lovely.”
Chance blinked. The expected thunderbolt didn’t flash. The uproar he’d been bracing himself for didn’t erupt. He suspected that he’d just met what was known as “a real lady.” He sighed once, quietly, and smiled down at the look on Victoria’s face.
“Yes, ma’am. I chose Victoria, didn’t I?” He grinned slightly. “Or she chose me. At any rate, may we be excused?”
Victoria sailed away on his arm, beaming with delight that the long-dreaded meeting was over, and that nothing untoward had occurred.
“See,” she s
aid, as she slipped into his arms, “you worried about nothing.”
Chance turned her around, moving in step to the slow waltz beat as her parents faded from sight. But the look on her father’s face did nothing to assure him that Victoria’s statement had a word of truth. In fact, now that he remembered it, Logan Henry had said nothing at all. It had been his wife who’d done all the talking.
Logan Henry stared across the crowded dance floor and into Chance’s eyes. A strange signal passed almost undetected, but it was there.
Chance’s flesh crawled. The look was intense and full of hate. “I don’t know, honey,” he said. “I think your father’d like to put out a contract on me, and ship you off to Europe.”
Victoria leaned back in his arms and laughed. “You’re imagining things, Chance. Hold me closer and don’t skip a dance. This is the first time I’ve been able to be in your arms in public and I don’t intend to waste a moment.”
His heart twisted at the poignancy of her statement. She was right, and it shouldn’t be so! Chance knew that he was out of her league, but for the life of him, he didn’t want to give her up.
“Then come here, honey. It will be my pleasure to hold you, all night long.”
She shivered at the implied promises.
He slid one arm around her waist, pulled her tight against his lower body, wrapped her other arm around him, and together they melded into the swirl of dancers clad in finery and expensive lace. It was a night to remember…and one he would pray to forget.
“Will you quit staring at that boy,” Margaret whispered. “You’re going to make Victoria nervous.”
Nervous! Hell, they didn’t know the meaning of the word. Logan Henry didn’t know what to do, but as the clock wound its way toward midnight, he knew he had to make a decision. Ever since he’d seen his daughter come into the dance with that boy, he’d had visions of his prom night, and what happened later, in the back seat of a car. This couldn’t happen to her. Not with him! Not ever!
His stomach roiled. Sweat was running down the middle of his back. A slow, burning rage was building. His anger was getting out of hand. He knew it but couldn’t seem to stop it. Just watching the way they clung to each other on the dance floor made his blood pressure rise. He turned and glared at his wife’s impatience. If she’d just shut her mouth, maybe I could think.
And then he looked up and felt his belly heave. They were nowhere in sight!
“Margaret! Where the hell did they go?” Logan asked.
She shrugged. “Victoria waved as they danced past a while ago. I think they may have decided to leave a bit early. She was making snacks at the house when we left. They may be planning to go home and get a bite to eat. If we give them a thirty-minute head start, it won’t be too obvious, and then we can go home and join them. What do you think?”
“I think you’re crazy.” He started through the crowded dance floor, threading his way among the couples like a man gone mad, pushing and shoving, ignoring the cries of dismay and concern.
Margaret was appalled. She didn’t know what had gotten into her husband, but she knew it would take months to live down his rude behavior. She hurried after him, trying to excuse his boorishness by claiming he was ill.
“Here, Chance,” Victoria said, as they exited the hot ballroom and breathed the cooler night air, “take off your jacket, and that tie. You’ve suffered long enough for me.”
It didn’t take a second urging. He grinned and complied. The tie was stuffed in his jacket pocket and both were tossed into the car.
“I have some sandwiches and snacks at the house,” Victoria said. She threaded her arms around his neck and tilted her head back, offering herself to the boy in her arms. “That is…if you’re hungry.”
“I’m hungry, all right,” Chance said, “but not for food, honey. For you.”
He pulled her into his arms, turned her around until he had her pinned between the car and his aching body, and lowered his head, capturing the sweetness of what she was offering. She moaned quietly and moved against him, relishing the ache that was building between her legs, aware that he wanted more from her than kisses. The thought was intoxicating…and frightening. And then their world fell apart.
“Turn her loose, you son-of-a-bitch,” Logan Henry yelled, and pulled roughly at Chance’s arm.
His hand swung out as he pushed between them and unintentionally clipped Chance on the side of the jaw. Caught unawares, Chance staggered, unable to regain his balance, and fell backward onto the blacktop parking lot.
Victoria screamed. “Daddy! Have you gone crazy? He was only kissing me. Leave him alone.”
But Logan was past reason. Just the sight of the two, entwined in each other’s arms, pressed so intimately together, had been the last straw. Visions of bare arms and legs and cries of joy had overridden all sense of propriety. He would stop this relationship now. For all he knew, it might already be too late to undo some of the damage. If this boy had made love to Victoria, he’d kill him.
Chance was shocked…but not surprised. His street instincts had seen this coming. More than once during the night, he’d sensed the man’s antagonism across the crowded floor. And he’d known that his relationship with a girl like Victoria could cause trouble, for him as well as her.
The two men stared at each other, silently assessing each other’s determination. Chance sighed. He would not fight her father. It would serve no purpose other than to emphasize the distance between their worlds.
“Chance!” Victoria stumbled as she tried to get past her father and help him up. She was beyond embarrassment. Fear for the boy she’d come to love was uppermost.
“Get away from him,” Logan snarled. He shoved his daughter aside, intent on keeping them apart at all costs.
Her foot caught in the hem of her dress. She fell forward and, as she did, the back of her father’s hand caught her across the face. The slap reverberated in the night like a gunshot.
Margaret Henry arrived in time to witness what looked like a slap. Her husband had struck their daughter? She couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
“Logan! Have you taken leave of your senses?” she cried, frantically looking around to ascertain that they were unobserved. That he had lowered himself to brawling was not to be believed. That he had laid a hand on their daughter was unforgivable. She hurried to Victoria’s side.
Fury exploded as Chance came to his feet. “You bastard,” he said harshly. “Letting you shove me around was one thing. But you shouldn’t have put a hand on Victoria.” His arm came up and his fist shot out.
Logan’s head snapped back and blood spurted. He blinked, startled by the intensity of the blow. His tongue slid across his lower lip, tasting blood seeping from a cut. He smiled. He should have known the boy could fight. His entire life had probably been one long battle.
“Oh my God!” Margaret moaned, and pulled her daughter out of the line of fire. She could only stand and watch as the two men, one older and stronger, the other younger and more determined, began to exchange blows. Silently, one after the other, back and forth, in the shadows of the parking lot.
Chance’s breath escaped in one harsh grunt as Logan Henry’s fist connected with his stomach. He staggered once, leaned over, and spat. It kept what wanted to come up, down. The sorry son-of-a-bitch was enjoying this, Chance thought. He could see the glow in Logan Henry’s eyes. He grabbed hold of his knees, regained control of his breathing, and came up swinging. The intensity of the blows they were exchanging surprised both men. This was no longer about Victoria.
Logan’s belly hurt. His eye stung where a fist had unexpectedly struck. Tomorrow he’d have a fat lip. His breath was coming in harsh gasps but, for the most part, he’d been unaffected by the fight. The boy, on the other hand, was not faring so well. And even in his fury Logan knew he’d gone past the limits of reason. He’d hammered the boy about the face and stomach until he was ashamed of himself.
A grudging sense of admiration slipped into his c
onscience. If the crazy fool would just stay down. But each time he fell to the blacktop, Chance would lift his head, take a long drink of air, and stagger back to his feet, daring the older man to do it again. And he did.
One eye was cut badly, and bleeding profusely. Chance could feel the blood running down his neck and onto his shirt. His knuckles were so swollen he couldn’t make a fist. It hurt to blink so he didn’t. And he knew that he’d probably be eating soup for the rest of his life. The last blow he’d taken in the belly had cracked a rib. He’d heard it before he’d felt the pain. It would be so simple to just stay down. He could see the look on her father’s face. He wanted it to end. But something inside Chance wouldn’t let himself be the one to quit. Something kept pulling him up to take another…and another…and another blow.
Victoria’s sobs penetrated Logan Henry’s consciousness. A slow horror began to invade his mind. What in God’s name have I just done to my own…?
“Daddy! Please! You’ve got to stop. You don’t understand.” She tore away from her mother’s arms and flung herself between Logan and Chance. “I can’t believe you’ve hurt someone this badly that you don’t even know.” Tears thickened her speech as she pummeled her father’s chest with shaky fists. “He’s a good boy…and a good student. He has a job. I know all about him…and his family. You’ve got to stop this, Daddy. You don’t understand…I love him!”
Red rage fused behind Logan Henry’s eyes as sanity disappeared. Love! Oh my God! I was right! It is too late!
“I’ll kill the bastard,” Logan snarled, and started to push his daughter aside. “He had no right to touch you. Not him!”
Victoria slapped her father. It startled everyone involved, but no one more than Chance.
“You filthy-minded…” Words failed her. “Chance has done nothing for which he should be ashamed,” she cried. “He’s never done anything to me, except treat me with constant respect and love. And no…we haven’t made love. But I wouldn’t have stopped him if he’d tried.”
