All About Charming Alice

by J. Arlene Culiner

  “Alice? They’re not staring at me.”

  “Of course they are.”

  “No. They’re staring at us. You … and me.”

  “What!”

  “Don’t you think I noticed?”

  She shook her head, as if she wanted to deny the obvious. “No … ”

  “Because of the way we look together.”

  Her eyes widened, met his while her pale cheeks were touched with a delicate pink. Could the sudden softness he saw there also contain hope? For the two of them? Jace didn’t get a chance to pursue the fleeting thought.

  “I know you.” A man, big, burly and ugly, had appeared from nowhere. Was now leaning over their table, shaking a thick fist in Alice’s face. “Bitch come messing around with my show.”

  “The evening’s looking good,” said Jace calmly. “You got a problem, buddy?”

  “Bitch messing around with my show,” the man hissed back. He’d obviously had a considerable amount to drink.

  “Sounded as unpleasant as it did the first time,” said Jace. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Alice’s face, white with anger, and her tightly clenched hands on the tabletop. “Now you can just go away.”

  “The bitch … ”

  “He’s talking about his lousy snake shows,” answered Alice with what appeared to be forced calm.

  Although Jace could read signs of apprehension as well as the next person. “Snake shows?”

  “The cruelest public events existing in the United States.” She threw a look of disgust at the intruder.

  “You keep yer nose outta where yer not wanted, lady!”

  Alice turned to Jace, continued as if the man hadn’t said a word. “Snakes are rounded up by spraying gasoline into their hiding places, or using poles tipped with fish hooks to snare them.”

  “Nothing to do with you!” The man stared at her with sheer hatred.

  “Oh yes, it has,” replied Alice, chin defiantly in the air. “With me. And with the humane society.”

  “Go on,” said Jace to Alice. Although, why he was interested, he didn’t know. He loathed snakes. But no way he’d allow anyone to frighten or hurt her. What he was now feeling was a primitive gut reaction. He knew that all right. It was the reaction of a man who’d fight anyone who threatened his woman. His woman? He shoved that idea into the side of his mind. For the moment. That was something he’d deal with later.

  “Once the snakes are caught,” Alice continued, “they’re stockpiled in crates or trashcans for months on end, without food or water. Sometimes they die. The ones who don’t are brought to shows where they are dropped onto concrete floors, putted with golf clubs or used in sacking contests. That means being bent in half and put into a sack over and over again. During those hideous games, the snakes have their ribs and jaws broken. And that’s all done in the name of fun and sport.”

  “That’s what people pay to see. They’re vermin, snakes are. Vermin!” The man leaned in closer and an unpleasant stink of alcohol and sweat hung over the table.

  Alice grimaced and turned to Jace again. “Joe here specializes in offering tourists the chance to have their photos taken with rattlesnakes in his show. The jaws of the snake are sewn together so that they can’t do any harm. In the end, all the snakes are killed. Beheaded. That way everybody can have a good laugh because the severed heads retain signs of consciousness for up to an hour and a half. They even try to bite when they’re tormented by their handlers.”

  “Ugly,” said Jace slowly. He wished this jerk Joe would vanish. They hadn’t needed his disgusting interference. “Sounds like just the thing that happened in county fairs in the old days. Before anyone thought of protecting animals.”

  “People get what they pay their money for,” Joe jeered. “You and yer lousy friends keep away from me and my business!”

  “You’re repeating yourself, Joe.” Jace stood, felt Alice’s restraining hand on his arm. “Don’t worry, Alice. Joe was just leaving.”

  He wasn’t. Not immediately. Swaying, staring aggressively, the man still sensed Jace was no pushover. And he finally turned, lurched away into another section of the saloon.

  Jace stared after him for a minute until certain he wouldn’t return.

  “Jace?”

  He let out his breath. He hated violence of any sort, but if pushed, wouldn’t back out. He looked down at Alice. “You didn’t tell me going out with you was going to be a Wild West adventure.”

  She winced. “Sorry.”

  “What are you sorry for? If that’s really what snake shows are about, I’m on your side. I don’t like cruelty any more than you do.” He held out her jacket. “How about if we head back to Blake’s Folly. I think we’ve milked this social occasion for all it’s worth.”

  As he led her back out into the cool starry night, he wondered at himself, at Alice, at the sudden change in his perception of snakes, those same creatures he’d despised only this morning. Life could certainly pull some strange punches.

  • • •

  Here was the house, the dusty path, and the front porch. Soon they’d be walking up the stairs to the first floor, in the direction of their bedrooms. Would he kiss her again? Like this morning? The thought made her shiver. With fear? Or anticipation? Or just deep down knockout desire.

  “Feel like sitting out on the porch for a while?”

  “Sure.”

  The settee groaned under their weight. The night air held just that touch of frost that warned them not to get too comfortable.

  Jace reached out, linked her fingers through his. The warmth flowed up through her arm, right to her heart, like some rich, sweet liqueur. “Thanks,” she said.

  “For what?” He watched her, a curious smile playing over his mouth.

  “For a lovely evening. And for helping me out back there, in the saloon.”

  “You’re joking, aren’t you? No man messes around with any woman I’m with.” It was said lightly. Casually.

  Alice couldn’t let it lie there. “Any woman? How about a wife? Is there a wife out there somewhere?” The question surprised even her. It had slid out from somewhere in her unconscious before she’d even thought of the possibility of Jace being married.

  There was utter silence for a several tense moments. Alice held her breath, looked out at the desert night.

  So. There was someone. He was a married man. He wasn’t free. She’d been letting herself dream about a man who was on the lookout for a quick and very illicit affair.

  “Alice? Look at me.”

  She couldn’t. If she did he’d be able to see her disappointment. Her anger. Despite the darkness of the desert night.

  “Look at me!” It was an order. His hand dropped hers. Reaching out, he cupped her chin, forced her to turn her head, meet his gaze. He wasn’t smiling. Not anymore.

  “You think I’m the sort of man who’d have asked you out if I had a wife somewhere?” He sounded angry. Until another note insinuated itself into his voice — one that was husky, intense. “The sort who would kiss you like I did last night, or this morning, knowing I had a wife who would be hurt by it?”

  Relief fought with confusion deep inside her. She wanted to stand up and sing; she wanted to run away as quickly as she could. Instead, she forced herself to sound cold, cynical. Realistic. “Things like that have been known to happen. Often enough.”

  His hand released her chin and his voice was as cool as her own. “Well, not with me. Never with me. Remember that.”

  She’d made him angry, she realized. She’d doubted his honesty, and that had wounded him. But how could she have known? They’d met such a short time ago.

  And even when you knew someone for a long, long time — knew them intimately, lived with them, slept beside them, ate breakfast and dinner with them — you couldn’t be certain of their fidelity, she thought. Experience had taught her that very lesson.

  Then she forced back the painful memories, ones that were intruding from another life — the one that had e
nded long ago. She forced herself to smile. “Sorry for having doubted you. So why haven’t you ever married?”

  He shrugged, looked out into the night. “I suppose I’ve always been waiting for a meeting with a kindred spirit, as idealistic as that sounds. A woman with the same beliefs, attitudes and values as I have, and that’s very important since I’ve never planned on getting married more than once.”

  He was right in wanting that, Alice mused. Living with someone day in and day out could be difficult enough. But if you didn’t have the same morals, marriage was hell.

  “There were times I thought I was about to fall in love, and then the feeling simply wore off,” Jace continued. “As soon as babies, and mortgages, and commitment, came into the picture. And the expectation that I change to fit into someone else’s picture of how I should be. And time schedules that meant the end of freedom. And requests that I be around more, spend less time writing, or investigating, or pursuing the subjects that fascinate me.”

  “Oh yes, I know,” said Alice, leaning forward. “And because of that, because you don’t give into other people’s demands, everyone tells you how self-centered you are. How egoistic. How selfish. And how downright boring.”

  His eyes searched hers warily. “Yes, they do. I’ve heard those very words many times.”

  Alice laughed shortly. “I’ll bet you have.”

  He smiled back, faintly, but his expression was still guarded. “How do you know this? Is it the sort of thing you’d say to me?”

  “Never.” She shook her head vehemently. “Not me. Those accusations would never cross my lips, mainly because I’ve had them thrown at me so many times, and I know how exasperating they can be.”

  Now he relaxed and the smile spread into a grin. “This is getting better and better. We must both be aliens from a distant planet.”

  “Jupiter? Saturn?”

  “Much further, I think. From another galaxy altogether.”

  Their eyes locked and the little thrill of fear raced up her spine again. She felt so close to him this very instant. No doubt he felt the same way too. A bond had been forged between them tonight. Now what would happen … would she follow him upstairs, take him to her bed as she longed to do and let him become part of her life? Then wonder if she’d ever see him again after he returned to Chicago. Because his return was imminent, therefore separation would never be far off.

  No, she couldn’t live like that. If she made love with him, she would give her whole heart — her soul — to Jace. Already, she felt too much for him, took too much pleasure in his every glance, his gestures, in the conversations they shared, in his natural warmth. Giving her heart to Jace could only end in heartbreak, a pain she never wanted to experience again. Better to destroy the intimacy of this moment. Immediately.

  “So in Chicago you live the bachelor life.” Her voice sounded tight, jagged, even to her own ears. “One affair after another, no strings attached.”

  “I guess you could say that’s a fairly good description of the landscape of my romantic life up until now,” he answered lazily. “Although it sounds banal and rather unappealing when put like that.”

  Up until now? What did that mean? Anything at all? Anything personal? Of course not, although she wished it did. And knew she couldn’t allow herself to think that way. He was a playboy, pure and simple. She knew the type. Far too well. “Is there one woman you see more than others back in Chicago?”

  His glance was probing. “Is it important to have this conversation right now?”

  “I thought this was called getting to know each other better. That’s what you suggested, isn’t it?”

  “If that’s the way you want it.” He shrugged, then answered with no great enthusiasm, “I see several women. There’s one — Tanya — I go out with fairly often.”

  Tanya. Of course. A woman with a name like Tanya. No Linda, or Sue, or Joan, for Jace. Nope. But Tanya … the name conjured up sleek sophistication, perfume. She’d be exotic and utterly beautiful. Phooey. Alice hated her.

  At least now she knew the way the wind was blowing. Jace Constant had decided to have a short affair with her, just to tide him over until he got home and back into Tanya’s arms. The thought left a bittersweet taste in her mouth. Should she be pleased or offended? And why had he chosen he — Alice, a woman with no glamour, a recluse — for his affair? For a little something on the original side, she told herself, yet again.

  Jace raised his hand, let his fingers slowly trace the fine line of her cheekbone, the contour of her lips, conjuring up a wild trail of sparks, a hum of desire, a yearning for more that — almost — erased the pain of her thoughts.

  Alice pulled back, away from his touch. “Jace, listen … ”

  “I’m here.”

  She sat up straight, prepared to destroy all. “I like you, really I do. I like your company.”

  He wasn’t in the least perturbed. “And this is only the beginning.”

  “What beginning? I’m different from you. I don’t have short affairs. Ever. Besides … ” She took a deep breath before telling the lie. “I also have someone in my life.” She watched his smile vanish.

  “Who?”

  “Brad.”

  “Brad?”

  “A rancher. From Two Posts.” She hoped Jace and Brad never met up. If they did, the game would be up, all right. But when would they meet? Jace would be out of here in no time.

  “Brad. The Rancher from Two Posts,” Jace repeated. “I feel like I’ve just strolled into a bad western.”

  “Oh, I do understand. You see how different we are? Brad’s a rough and ready type of guy. Ever so Western. Doesn’t at all fit into the same sort of picture frame as your Tanya with her exotic perfume, designer clothing, and sexy boudoir.” She forced herself to smile archly.

  “Boudoir?” Jace’s eyebrow quirked with amusement; his eyes glittered. “How gorgeously archaic.”

  “Or whatever.” Okay, she’d gone too far. Alice felt like kicking herself. “I just threw in the boudoir image for contrast, you see.”

  “Of course. I understand.” He was obviously trying not to laugh.

  “What I meant to say is that Brad is just the opposite. Tall, lean. A real outdoors man. One who loves the desert.”

  “And snakes,” said Jace dryly.

  “Well,” said Alice judiciously. “I can’t say he’s as fond of them as I am.” No, she certainly couldn’t. Because Brad hated snakes. Killed them. When Alice had found out, Brad had been wiped off the screen of her life. Until this moment, when he was needed as a first line of defense. Against Jace. Against her attraction. Her emotions.

  “Do you love him?” Jace asked.

  Alice stared back, wide-eyed, wordless. Now what would she do? Say she was madly in love? No, she couldn’t do that. That would be going too far. Even now.

  Fighting for time, she stood, took a few steps in the direction of the front door. Then turned, looked back at Jace. And in the best, overly theatrical way she could possibly manage, she opened her arms in a wide, woman-of-the-world gesture. “Love! Oh, does that silly little word really mean anything at all?”

  As she disappeared into the house, she was well aware she’d sounded like a bad actress in a tenth-rate play. But, then again, that was an experience not totally unknown to her.

  Once upon a time.

  Chapter Eight

  “Plan B,” murmured Jace to himself with a smirk of satisfaction. Leaning back against the counter, he basked in a dancing ray of sunlight while coffee filtered lazily into the pot. Alice hadn’t made an appearance this morning, and there was no sign of breakfast. Therefore — reasoned Jace — she must still be in her bed, sleeping. He grinned. Good. That showed him fate was on his side, nodding away with approval at Plan B.

  What was Plan B exactly? Plan B was an excellent idea. It was an almost sure method for knocking rivals out of the scene, rivals like that Brad what’s-his-name from Two Posts — if Brad really did exist. “Because,” Jace reason
ed, “where is dear, old Rancher Brad? He certainly never shows his nose around here.”

  Alice never seemed to go out on mysterious dates, either. So, was Rancher Brad really and truly a serious rival? He doubted it.

  Those were the sorts of thoughts that had kept him awake half the night. And that was how he’d conceived of Plan B. It was simple, easy to put into motion. It consisted in keeping things as cool as he possibly could with Alice. Until she came to the conclusion that he was irresistible. She was attracted to him. He knew it, could feel it, could see it in the way she looked at him, even if she refused to acknowledge or accept that. Look how she kept on shoving up barriers between the two of them.

  No, Plan B was the only way to charm Alice that he could figure out. If that didn’t work, well, he’d have to negotiate Plan C or D or Z. He wanted her. She fascinated him. He loved being with her, talking to her. He …

  The coffee was ready. Jace filled a large cup and headed back upstairs. Pausing in the hallway outside of Alice’s bedroom, he listened. Not a sound. Did she lock her door at night? He held his breath and turned the knob. No, she didn’t. His heart gave a satisfied little thump. She trusted him to a certain extent, at least.

  For a minute or two, Jace simply stood still in the open doorway, waiting until his eyes got used to the dim light and things could take shape. Those furry lumps on the floor around the bed were dogs he knew, because their tails were flapping softly in their usual brief welcome. As for the large beautiful room, it was touched by soft pastel and shadow. And filled with ancient pieces of furniture, most of them covered with books.

  Jace smiled. He could just imagine Alice spending long dark winter evenings, reading by the light of that bedside lamp. Yes that would be a nice way to pass evenings, all right: on that bed with Alice beside him.

  No. His thoughts were going in a dangerous direction, at the moment. Think of Plan B!

  She was there, in that big four-poster bed right now. Without him. Sound asleep, lying under a pale silken counterpane, head turned slightly to one side, her arms flung out beside her in the innocent way of a child. Her tangle of shining hair spread out over the pillows, down over her naked shoulders. He approached, fascinated.