Riding the Thunder - Deborah MacGillivray [110]
Netta waved and rolled her eyes. “No, thanks. After the frog story, I’m not in the mood for mystery meat. But I wouldn’t mind a Big Red, lots of ice, and an Almond Joy.”
Asha followed Colin and Jago inside, then touched his elbow. “I’m going to the little girls room to untangle my hair.”
The concession stand always had a fun ambience—smells of cooking food, the sound of the movie playing outside, oddly muted, and the colorful signs and lights. As she passed along the windows she could see Peter Cushing chasing Christopher Lee. There’s no place like a drive-in, she thought as she pushed into the ladies’ lounge. Inside, elevator music played.
Going to the mirror, she pulled a small brush out of her fanny pack and set it on the counter. She unbraided her hair, carefully straightened the tangles and then quickly plaited it. Several women came and went, most stopping long enough to thank her for the Halloween party and for the all-night drive-in. It pleased her to know everyone really enjoyed the entertainment her small oasis provided. Looking at her reflection she saw happiness shining in her eyes.
“Glad you came back to take over the business, aren’t you, old girl?” she said to her image.
As she came out of the restroom, she sidestepped the people rushing in. The current Dracula film had just ended and everyone was making a mad dash to the bathrooms and the concession stand before the next Lee-Cushing battle began. The crush made Asha feel like a fish trying to swim upstream!
She spotted Jago at the end of the line, near the cash register, and all the people became faceless blurs moving about her; she could only see him. Being female and quite territorial, she then zeroed in on two women in line behind him, all giggly and bouncy as only women ‘in heat’ can be. One gave her friend a gentle push, shoving her into Jago’s back, trying to get his attention. Blushing, she twittered an apology as he reached for his wallet, then both women seized the opportunity to strike up a conversation with him.
“Pretty men are such a pain in the bum. Where’s my claymore when I need it?” she muttered to herself, though strangely she didn’t feel the usual surge of jealousy. She trusted Jago, was secure in how he felt about her.
Someone slammed into her shoulder, knocking her back a step. She blinked, putting out her hands almost defensively, her mind going from confusion to revulsion faster than she could form thought. Her attention shifted from Jago to the man before her, and she stared up into crocodile eyes.
Monty Faulkner stood with a faint smile upon his face, no emotions in his yellow eyes. “Oh, I apologize . . . though it was your fault,” he pointed out. “You weren’t looking where you were going. You should be more careful. Good way to get hurt.”
“You’re quite right. My fault. Please accept my apologies.” Asha simply wanted away from this man—now—and tried to move past.
He had other ideas. He reached out and caught her upper arms.
Asha summoned up her Scots warrior spirit and met his odd eyes, then looked down her nose to his hands.“Please take your hands off me.” Her voice was calm, something the lady of the manor would use on a serf who’d dared touch her.
“Sure, Miz Montgomerie. I just wanted to tell you how great all this stuff is that you do around here. Gives people a place to go, a way to have fun. Not since back when they had the old skating rink open has there been such a nice place to spend an evening. Super job.”
She forced a smile. This man was unsettling, but she wouldn’t permit him to see it. He was a bully who fed off weakness. “Thank you. I try. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
For a moment she feared he wasn’t going to let go, but then he released her. “Happy Halloween. Hope you get plenty of tricks-or-treats—whichever you want.” Then he turned and vanished into the crowd.
Asha knew she was being silly. Every community had a black sheep, a ‘Boo Radley’ who creeped everyone out. That didn’t mean he was really