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By Root 388 0

had bought that day at a local record store. They played the music at a low volume, knowing how much Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery disliked that sort of “decadent” music. But once Jeanine’s parents had left the house, the volume was raised and the girls played air guitars and sang along with the musicians before getting down to more serious matters, like whether Miss Farnsworth, who’d never married, had ever had sex. The cutest boys were dissected, the most nerdy girls verbally devastated. It was all great fun, but the night was young and they were brimming with restless energy.

While Jeanine had supplied the music, Mitzi had provided the evening’s other stimulant—four marijuana cigarettes she’d bought that afternoon on a Savannah street corner. Mitzi wanted to light up in Jeanine’s room but Jeanine didn’t want to leave behind the telltale odor. They went to a gazebo in the expansive rear yard and puffed awkwardly on two of the joints, claiming to be higher than they were. Savannah’s infamous sand gnats, “no-see-ums,” were out in force that night; the smoke from the joints provided something of a barrier against them.

“Want the other?” Mitzi asked.

Jeanine shook her head as she crushed the butts in a piece of foil she’d brought from the kitchen. “Want to go to Augie’s?” she asked.

Mitzi giggled. “Yeah,” she said, “I know. You want to see if that cool guy is there again.”

On a previous trip to Augie’s, Jeanine had struck up a conversation with a good-looking man in his mid-to-late twenties. He told her that his name was Allan and that he was a talent scout for a major theatrical agency in Atlanta, who was spending time in Savannah in search of new talent. Jeanine didn’t necessarily buy his story but it didn’t matter. She was smitten with his curly black hair that hung down over sleepy bedroom eyes, a three-day growth of beard, his nonchalant persona, and most important, his overt interest in her.

“Think my dad would like him?” she asked playfully.

“Your daddy would shoot him,” was Mitzi’s reply.

“You know, I believe he would,” Jeanine said.

Augie’s was officially off-limits to the girls. But the club represented an adventure, a forbidden place where those “other” kids hung out, many of them African-Americans who symbolized danger, another world to explore in “officially” integrated Savannah.

Jeanine drove her father’s Cadillac convertible; he was a car buff and owned six automobiles of various makes. When they pulled into Augie’s parking lot they were surprised at how many cars were already there. Rock music, mixed with raucous laughter, spilled through the club’s open door and into the lot, where a dozen teens smoked cigarettes or pot and sucked on cans of beer.

The girls found a space, got out, and approached the club. They expected to have trouble getting in because of their age but a hefty young man charged with checking IDs was busy chatting with friends, and the girls slipped by.

Inside, the recorded music was loud, the conversation even louder. They found space at the bar and ordered beers. The bartender eyed them suspiciously but didn’t question their ages, just plopped the bottles in front of them and told them how much they owed.

“I feel like I’m dressed funny,” Mitzi said.

Jeanine agreed. Their designer casual clothes were out of place in the club where ragged jeans and T-shirts were the norm.

Their attention went to a small area in front of where a DJ played music. Two black couples danced. As they watched, a young black girl wearing a green miniskirt, a low-cut yellow sleeveless blouse, and sandals came up to them.

“Hi’ya doin’?” she slurred.

“We’re doing fine,” Mitzi said. She squinted against the room’s smoke and garish lighting and looked more closely into the girl’s reddened eyes. “I know you,” she said.

“Yeah?”

“You were at a retreat at CVA once. I remember.”

“Yeah?”

“Your name is—”

The girl laughed. “Can’t sometimes even remember my name,” she said dreamily. “Louise. You got any money, buy me a drink?”

Jeanine and Mitzi looked at each other.

“Sure,” Mitzi said. “Order what you want.”