Mary Beth turned her head.
"Knock it off, Piper."
Piper looked at Ben with softer eyes.
"I'm sorry. I'm not very nice until I've had at least three cups of coffee."
"Oh," Ben said. He laughed. "Can I get you another cup?"
"No, thank you. I think I'm set."
Ben watched Piper as she sipped some coffee and returned to her phone. He wasn't sure what to make of the spirited young woman, who had mostly ignored him, but he had seen and heard enough of her to conclude three things. She was intelligent, temperamental, and gorgeous.
He took a bite out of a pastry and sipped his own coffee. Each of the four had ordered a pastry and a cup of French roast. Piper had ordered a large cup.
Mark had offered to pay for the order until he discovered that he did not have enough cash in his wallet to do so. He had been shocked to discover that a simple cup of coffee was twenty times the price he was used to paying. Mary Beth bailed him out by producing a piece of plastic she called a debit card and handing it to the cashier.
Ben looked at Mark and Mary Beth, who talked quietly, and then at Piper, who tapped her phone a few times and tucked it in her purse. He watched with interest as she lowered her purse to the ground, sipped some coffee, and returned his gaze.
"Are you ever going to talk to me?" Ben asked.
"I haven't decided," Piper said.
"Why is that? Don't you find me interesting?"
"Oh, I find you interesting. You're a little too interesting."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Ben asked.
"It means, Ben Ryan, if that's your name, that I'm not totally convinced you're from the fifties. I'm not convinced that Professor Bell's home is not some sort of funhouse," Piper said. "I'm not convinced that someone or something is not playing a practical joke on me."
"Are you serious?"
"I'm very serious."
Mark and Mary Beth stopped talking.
"You don't believe we're from the fifties?" Mark asked Piper.
"I don't know what to believe," Piper said. "I can't explain what I saw at the mansion. I know only that it's easier to believe that you're pulling a prank than it is to believe in time travel."
Mark looked at Mary Beth.
"Do you feel the same way?"
Mary Beth blushed.
"Don't answer," Mark said. "I can see that you do."
Mary Beth put her hand on Mark's arm.
"I want to believe. I want to believe time travel is possible, even if my father, a physicist, says it is not. I just don't know whether I can trust my senses. People can create illusions. They can create a lot of things. This is Hollywood, after all."
"Then why are you spending time with me?" Mark asked.
"I'm spending time with you because you're nice and interesting."
Ben looked at Piper and saw her flash a self-satisfied smile. He had no doubt she found him mean and boring.
Mark sighed.
"What would it take to convince you we're real? What can we say or do to convince you that you really did travel through time and that 1959 is just a glowing tunnel away?"
Mary Beth offered a sheepish smile.
"I suppose we could see more of your world."
"Be specific," Mark said.
"We could walk around the neighborhood or drive around the city," Mary Beth said. "We could even take a road trip to someplace like San Diego or Las Vegas."
"We could."
Mary Beth tilted her head and looked at Mark thoughtfully.
"I don't need much proof."
Mark nodded.
"OK then. Let's do it."
"Let's do what?" Ben asked.
"Let's take a road trip. Let's go to Las Vegas," Mark said. "I'm sure we could find a lot of interesting things to do there."
Piper stared at Mark.
"We have parents coming back at six, Mark. We don't have time to run off to Vegas or San Diego or any other place. We have to pack for our return trip. We leave on Sunday."
"You still can," Mark said. "I thought I made that clear. You and Mary Beth can spend as much time as you want in 1959 and return to 2017 as if you had never been gone."
Mary Beth turned to Piper. She looked at her sister with pleading eyes.
"You haven't had fun all week," Mary Beth said. "Let's change that. Let's have some fun. Let's do something crazy!"
Ben laughed. He wondered if the girls could do anything crazier in the next day than he had done in the last hour. Then he looked at the street and decided they probably couldn't.
"OK," Piper said. "I still think there's a chance these two are putting us on, but I'll go. I want to see if there's more to that mansion than smoke and mirrors."
"Then it's set," Mark said. "Let's go back to the house, pack a bag or two, clean up, and take off. We left 1959 at nine thirty in the morning. We could be on the road by ten."
Ben looked at his brother.
"Where are we getting the money to take this trip?"
"I have money," Mark said.
"You have a hundred bucks in your dresser drawer. You told me that the other day. That's not enough to go to Vegas, Mark. At least it's not enough to have fun."
"We'll manage."
Mary Beth looked at the brothers.
"There's no need to manage anything. I have money. I can help out."
"You're forgetting something," Mark said. "Your debit card is no good in 1959. Neither is your cash. I've seen the currency here. It's different. The last thing any of us want to do is go to jail for passing what merchants will consider counterfeit bills."
"You're right," Mary Beth said.
"Don't feel bad. I appreciate the offer. We'll just do something else."
Mary Beth turned away and looked at a bookstore across the street. She stared at the store for several seconds. When she looked again at Mark, she did so with lively eyes.
"There's no need to do something else."
"I don't follow," Mark said.
Mary Beth grinned.
"I just thought of a way to make money."
CHAPTER 10: PIPER
Baker, California – Saturday, March 21, 1959
Piper needed only five minutes to realize that Mark and Ben Ryan did not work for a movie studio or the producer of a new Candid Camera. Not even two enterprising brothers could give a city the size of Los Angeles a complete 1950s makeover.
She thought about her conversion from skeptic to believer as she stared out the right rear window of Mark's 1958 Edsel Citation and gazed at the arid fields along Route 91. She would no longer be quite as eager to dismiss fantastic claims out of hand or staunchly defend the laws of physics. Nothing, she thought, was impossible.
Piper directed her eyes to the front of the car and saw Mark and Mary Beth talk and laugh like they had been friends for years and not acquaintances for hours. She was happy to see her sister finally emerge from her self-imposed social exile.
"Mary Beth?" Piper asked.
Mary Beth peered over her left shoulder.
"Yes?"
"Are you ever going to tell me what you bought at the bookstore?"
Mary Beth smiled.
"I bought books."
Piper looked at Ben and shook her head.
"I asked a simple question."
Ben laughed and then resumed looking out his window.
Piper returned to Mary Beth.
"Well? Are you going to tell me what books you bought?"
Mary Beth nodded.
"I'll do better than that. I'll show you."
Mary Beth leaned forward, ruffled through a paper bag, and retrieved three thin paperback books. She turned around and handed them to her sister.
Piper placed the books on her lap. She thumbed through Marilyn: Her Life in Letters, Old Las Vegas, and Sports Champions from 1876 to 2016.
"Why did you buy these?" Piper asked.
Mary Beth shifted in her seat so that she could see the occupants in back without
straining her neck. She looked at Ben and then Piper.
"I bought the first book to learn about my favorite actress and the second to learn about our destination."
"What about the third book?"
Mary Beth grinned.
"I bought it to finance our trip."
"What?" Piper asked.
"I'm betting on the Bears tonight. California plays West Virginia in the final of the NCAA men's basketball tournament. I know who wins."
"You're insane."
Mary Beth laughed.
"I like to think of myself as imaginative."
"Where are you going to make the bet?" Ben asked.
"I hope to make it at a turf club," Mary Beth said. "Your brother says there are dozens in Las Vegas and that most take sports bets."
Ben leaned forward and tapped Mark's shoulder.
"How do you know that?"
"I'm in college, remember? That's the kind of thing you learn in college," Mark said. He looked over his right shoulder and smiled. "You'll learn things in college too."
Piper laughed. She didn't doubt that. People learned all sorts of things in college. They got in all sorts of trouble. It was one reason she looked forward to her freshman year at Tennessee.
Piper handed the books back to Mary Beth and settled into her seat as the chatty couple in front went back to chatting. She thought about the books, Las Vegas, and college for several minutes before turning her attention to the mystery man at her left.
Ben had not returned to staring blankly out his window. He rested his chin on his hand and gazed at Piper in a way that made her uncomfortable.
"Why are you staring at me?" Piper asked.
"I'm not staring," Ben said. He grinned. "I'm observing."
"Well, observe something else. I don't like it when people stare at me."
Ben laughed but didn't say anything.
Piper turned away and pulled her cell phone from her purse. She flipped it on, tapped a few buttons, and accessed an app. She decided she would much rather complete a crossword puzzle than talk to Eddie Haskell.
"What are you doing?" Ben asked.
"I'm playing a game," Piper said.
"I thought that was a telephone."
"It is. It's a telephone loaded with games."
"What else does it have?"
Piper looked up from the phone and glared at Ben.
"It has a lot of things."
"Does it contain a lot of numbers?" Ben asked.
"It does."
"Does it contain a lot of numbers from boys?"
"That's none of your business," Piper said.
"Sure it is. I need to know what I'm up against."
"Dream on."
"You like me," Ben said. "I know you do."
"You presume a lot."
"What's your phone number?"
"Why? Are you going to call me?"
"I might."
Piper laughed.
"If you could manage that in 1959, I might answer your call."
Ben fixed his gaze.
"I'm serious though. What's your number?"
Piper told him.
"That's amazing," Ben said.
"What's amazing?"
"Your number is my birth date."
"That's impossible," Piper said. "My number has ten digits."
"You misunderstand. The last seven digits are my birth date," Ben said. "The area code – 256 – is the number of girls I've dated in high school."
Piper shook her head.
"You, sir, are insufferable."
Ben grinned.
"I try."
"Is he always this way?" Piper asked Mark.
Mark laughed.
"Yes."
Piper looked at Ben.
"You're exaggerating. I'll bet you don't have even one girlfriend."
Ben nodded matter-of-factly.
"You're half right. I am exaggerating. I have only five girlfriends – six if you count Doris Mayes. She's been sweet on me since ninth grade, but I haven't asked her out."
"You're a throwback," Piper said.
"Do you think five is too many?"
"Yes. I think one is plenty for anyone."
"How many boyfriends do you have?" Ben asked.
"That's none of your business."
"So the answer is none."
Piper pouted.
"I'm between significant others now."
"That's all right," Ben said. "It happens to everyone … except me."
Mary Beth laughed.
"It sounds like you have a live one back there, Piper."
Piper folded her arms.
"I'm taking a bus back to Los Angeles."
Ben smiled.
"You can't do that. You don't have any money."
"I'll steal some," Piper said. "I would rather risk jail than sit next to you in a car."
"Are you sure about that?"
"I'm positive."
"What if I offered to give you a ride in my car?" Ben asked.
"I would decline."
"What if I told you my car was a Thunderbird?"
Piper unfolded her arms.
"You drive a T-Bird?"
"I own a T-Bird," Ben said. "I own a red 1959 Ford Thunderbird convertible with whitewall tires, a 300-horsepower V8 engine, and leather upholstery."
"He's not rich," Mark said to Piper. "He just spent his share of Dad's life insurance money on a car rather than on college or something sensible."
"Dad would have approved," Ben said. "You know it."
Piper tried to make sense of it all but couldn't. She sighed, cocked her head, and looked at Ben as if he were the strangest thing on earth.
"Let me get this straight. You have a 1959 Thunderbird – a convertible, no less – and the four of us are driving to Vegas in an Edsel?"
Ben nodded and laughed.
"My car is in the shop."
CHAPTER 11: MARY BETH
Las Vegas, Nevada
Mary Beth had seen Sin City a hundred times in her twenty-two years. She had seen it on television, in theaters, and even on postcards, but until Mark drove his Edsel down Las Vegas Boulevard on an unseasonably warm afternoon in 1959, she had never seen it in person.
She looked out her closed window and saw casinos, hotels, shops, and services that appeared torn from a flickering home movie. She marveled at the seemingly endless stream of props that welcomed visitors to the city.
A thirty-five-foot sultan straddled the entrance to the Dunes. A giant, blinking, rotating shoe spun in front of the Silver Slipper. A menacing raptor, perched atop a large neon sign, greeted motorists and pedestrians as they approached the Thunderbird.
Mary Beth pondered the possibilities as she admired the signs and marquees. She could see Johnny Mathis at the Sands, the McGuire sisters at the Desert Inn, or Le Lido de Paris, "the world's greatest floor show," at the Stardust. Or she could talk the others into dining, dancing, and exploring the Strip. They might like that. She knew she would.
"What are you thinking?" Mark asked.
"I'm thinking about what I want to do tonight. We have so many options," Mary Beth said. She looked at the driver. "What do you want to do?"
Mark turned his head.
"I don't know. We still have time to decide. What we don't have is time to find a turf club. The game starts in less than an hour in Louisville. We need to place a bet soon."
Mary Beth scanned the road ahead.
"Do you know where we can?"
Mark nodded.
"There's at least one club a few blocks away."
Mary Beth looked over her shoulder and saw that the combatants in back had not warmed to each other. Ben stared blankly out the left window, Piper out the right. Neither had said more than a few words since bickering over significant others and seating assignments.
"Are you two ever going to enjoy yourselves?" Mary Beth asked.
"I'm enjoying myself," Piper said. "I'm just not enjoying him."
Mary Beth
glanced at Ben and saw him laugh quietly. She felt sorry for any boy who drew a sword against her sister. He had no idea what he was getting into.
"Can I trust you children to get along while Mark and I place a bet?" Mary Beth asked. "I'm pretty sure they won't let you in unless you're twenty-one."
"You can trust me," Piper said.
Mary Beth looked at the hapless male in back.
"Ben?"
"I'll be fine," Ben said. "Have fun."
Mary Beth laughed to herself. She didn't believe either one. She turned around and directed her attention to the street ahead just as Mark slowed down and pulled up to a curb.
"Are we here?" Mary Beth asked.
"We're here," Mark said.
Mary Beth looked at the club – a hole-in-the-wall tucked between a cigar shop and a café on Fremont Street – and wondered if they had come to the right place. Then she remembered something she had read in Old Las Vegas. Turf clubs in the 1950s were not casinos. They were low-profile businesses that operated independently from the gaming establishments and provided a service made possible by an act of Congress in 1951.
Mark turned off the ignition, set the brake, and got out of the Edsel. He stopped for a few seconds to let a taxicab pass, walked around the back of his car to the passenger side, and opened the door. He offered a hand to Mary Beth and gently helped her out of her seat.
Mary Beth appreciated the gesture. She couldn't remember the last time a man had done that. Even Jordan hadn't done that. He had opened restaurant doors and store doors for her all the time, but he had never opened her car door. This was, Mary Beth thought, a different time.
She joined Mark on the sidewalk and then took a moment to smooth the wrinkles from a jumper dress she had purchased in 2017. Even in cutting-edge, twenty-first-century Hollywood, a woman could buy something to wear in the 1950s.
Mary Beth and Piper had purchased two outfits each and planned to buy more clothes if their sojourn to the past extended beyond the weekend. Both had wanted to keep their options open.
"Are you ready?" Mark asked.
"I'm ready," Mary Beth said.
"Are you sure about the score?"
"I'm positive. Cal wins 71-70."
"Then I'll let you do the honors."
Mark retrieved his wallet, pulled out a crisp hundred-dollar bill, and handed it to the woman in the light blue dress. He had saved the bill just for this moment.
Class of '59 (American Journey Book 4) Page 5
