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Hell's Bay

Page 32

by James W. Hall


  “Done.”

  We shook hands. All three of us.

  “Am I still a billionaire?”

  “I think you’ll have to sign some papers tomorrow,” Sugar said. “Then you’re free.”

  “Well, I should pay for dinner, don’t you think?”

  “Damn right,” Rusty said.

  Rusty walked down to the shoreline. She waved at Sugarman to join her. Somehow she talked him into dancing with her. When she’d danced him breathless, she waved me down to join her in another turn on the sand.

  I went down to the shoreline and stepped into Rusty’s rhythmic embrace. She had on a white skimpy top that showed off the freckles in her cleavage, and some kind of loose yellow pants that turned almost transparent in certain light. The pants rode so low on her hips, the tattoo at the base of her spine was fully exposed.

  We danced for two more songs, barefoot, sloshing through the gold moon water. Her new knee didn’t miss a beat, and I’m sure she felt more limber in my arms than I felt in hers.

  “You look good together,” Sugarman said when we returned to the table.

  “We’re too much alike for it to last,” Rusty said. But she smiled at me, and I knew she was being ironic. Somewhat ironic.

  “Tomorrow after we pick the board,” I said, “we’ll go see how the new school building is coming along.”

  Sugarman nodded.

  “Leaving our campsite cleaner than we found it.”

  Rusty had another sip of her drink and was on her feet again.

  “Another dance, kiddo? My knee’s acting up, needs some action.”

  We went out to the sand again. We danced till the moon was low in the sky, and kept on dancing while the band packed up to go home.

 

 

 


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