All Your Pretty Dreams (29 page)

Maybe she was just the
blushing sort. He smiled and said, “I’ll be gallant and let you tie
me up first.”

She stood up abruptly,
banging the table with her knee, rattling the tea cups. He caught
his before it went over the edge. “Easy. We’ve done the broken dish
thing. Say, how’s your foot? You want me to take a look at
it?”

“
It’s almost
healed.”

He took his cup to the sink
and faced her. “What should we do this evening? Or do you need to
get back to studying?”

She shook her head. “That’s
all right. I’ll just—“

“
Really.” He reached for
her arm, took her hand. “You’ve done so much for me, and for Wendy
who doesn’t deserve it.”

“
Don’t say
that.”

“
You’re right. Okay,
you’ve done so much for our family. Can I take you out somewhere,
to a movie, a club, a bar? What do people do around here for
fun?”

She was blushing again,
looking at her hand in his. He smiled at her. “You are old enough
to go to bars, aren’t you?”

“
You mean like the Owl?”
Her voice was getting weak. He pulled her toward him.

“
Something a little more
fun than the Owl, please. You like to dance as I
recall.”

Suddenly he twirled her,
catching her as she stumbled, laughing. “I’ll give you more notice
next time. Now, where does a man find a band in this
burg?”

They found a reggae band,
white dudes in shades, at the oldest college bar in Urbana, an
under-the-sidewalk place. But the place was quiet, and tiny, with
no room for dancing so they drove across to Champaign and the
Highdive, a sprawling nightclub. Inside the music was being played
by a DJ on one side, a black woman who was grooving in her
headphones, playing house and techno, with some worked-over vintage
rock thrown in.

Blue lights flashed across
the gyrating crowd. Jonny felt out of place, old. His enthusiasm
for the evening, such as it was, was evaporating. But he put on a
smile and went to the bar for martinis. Isabel had shrugged at the
suggestion of a cocktail, slumping into a velveteen booth meant for
eight. They’d paid their cover. They could at least dance a little,
drink a little.

Conversation was out of the
question. The music was way too loud. When he returned from the bar
with two strange-colored martinis, neon green apple or kiwi or
lime, the bass was thumping through the table. He tried to remember
when he’d been to a club like this. Not exactly Cuppie’s thing.
Married before he could legally drink, he hadn’t even been in a bar
in college. His friends had taken him to a strip club after he
split up with Cuppie, but compared to this, it seemed almost
tame.

He sipped the martini and
almost choked on the sweetness. He made himself take another sip.
Then he felt the vodka warm his veins and began to nod along to the
beat.

He let Isabel drink a
little. She looked as uptight as he felt. With half their martinis
on board he got her out on the dance floor. The room was nearly
pitch black, all the better for the strobe lights and piercing
spots to cause epileptic seizures. He had to close his eyes
periodically to rest them, and still saw flashes on his retinas. He
worked them over to the DJ. She was bent over the laptops,
energetically dancing, shimmying her hips. Wait,
she
was a
he
. In long dreadlocks
and a tight purple shirt.

Not exactly the Rose Rave
in Mom’s garden. All electronica here, all synthesized and
homogenized. Just thinking about polka was probably against club
policy. He caught Isabel’s eye and she made a face. He grabbed her
hand, spinning her again. This time she stayed on her feet, then
danced off.

Midway through the next
song Jonny saw blond hair across the floor. Long blond hair,
swinging with the music. Wendy? He craned his neck to see the rest
of the woman. How could a seventeen-year-old get in here? Who was
he kidding? She ran away from home and hid herself successfully for
over a week. Of course she could get into a nightclub. From the
back he could see the hair, a similar height. He took Isabel’s hand
and pushed through the crowd.

His little sister, dancing
and drinking while her family put her on prayer lists. Out having a
good time, miles from those who sat up all night worrying about
her. When he found her he was going to strangle her.

He plunged through the
dancers. He grabbed her arm, spun her toward him. The girl
stumbled, startled. She pulled away her arm angrily. Her partner, a
barrel-chested frat-boy type, shoved Jonny. In the flashing light
he had to blink, to focus. The girl wasn’t Wendy. She was older,
not as pretty, with large glasses. What was he thinking? She looked
nothing like his sister.

Jonny put up his palms
toward the advancing boyfriend. “Sorry,” he hollered over the
music. “I’m sorry,” he told the girl, backing away.

Isabel was beside him. He
said, “I thought—”

“
Let’s get out of here,”
she shouted back.

They sat on the round
fenders of the Volkswagen. Isabel plunged a finger into her ear.
“That was fun. If I could get the ringing to stop.”

“
What?!” Jonny
half-yelled, then smiled at her. His ears were ringing too. The
dense quiet of the parking lot felt like static, or the buzzing of
bees.

“
It did look like her, you
know,” Isabel said.

“
Right.” She was a good
sport. He stood up and stretched, shaking his head to get rid of
the echoes. “You okay to drive?”

“
That martini tasted like
mouthwash.” She twirled her car keys around her finger. “Did I tell
you somebody stole my distributor cap? That’s why the old Beetle
wouldn’t start.”

“
Must have been somebody
who wanted you to stay in Red Vine.”

“
Uh-huh. And who would
that be?”

“
Ozzie? No, wait. Walter.
He was very depressed when the students left town.”

“
We must have dropped a
fortune in the Owl. Not Lenny?”

“
Sure. He needed the
votes.”

A couple walked toward them
through the cars. The man’s arm wrapped around the woman’s waist as
they weaved through, talking. In the dark there was little else to
see about them, until they stopped abruptly in front of Isabel. The
man stared at her with rounded eyes.

“
Isabel? Is that you? My
God, this is the last place I thought I’d see you.”

The man was short and
paunchy with greasy brown hair and a wide shiny forehead above a
small beard. His brown t-shirt sported a mathematical equation and
barely contained his man-boobs. His date squealed like a pig. She
leaned against him in a short black skirt and red midriff top. Pink
streaks highlighted her teased platinum hair. The smell of liquor
and sweat rose from them.

Isabel stood frozen,
clutching her keys. “Alec.”

“
This is her, that chick?
She sure knows how to party-dress,” the woman said loudly. “Where’d
you get that shirt, off a railroad bum?” The woman pulled on Alec’s
arm. “Come on, Al-pal. You promised me ice cream.”

“
How’ve you been?” Alec
said, disengaging himself from the woman’s grasp. “I heard you fled
to the continent.”

“
Fine,” Isabel said
coldly. “Is this your wife?”

Alec and the woman looked
at each other and burst out laughing. Alec sneered as he said,
“Didn’t you hear? Of course not. You’ve been prancing around
Europe, doing the grand tour in that devil-may-care Yancey style.”
He stepped closer to Isabel and she backed up. “It didn’t last,
honey bunch. Didn’t go six months with the bitch. She hightailed it
out of here in January.”

“
What a cunt!” the woman
cackled.

“
Renee.” Alec frowned,
turning back to Isabel. “My friend Renee. Drunk as a skunk and
about as appealing.”

Isabel looked at Jonny.
“And this— this is Jonathan Knobel.”

Jonny stuck out a hand.
“Not drunk. Pleased to meet you.”

“
Aaaal,” Renee whined.
“You’re such an asshole.”

Alec shook Jonny’s hand.
The short man’s hand was clammy. He pulled it away quickly and
turned back to Isabel.

“
So you’re back in town.
That’s great.” He grinned at her with uneven, yellow teeth. “You
look fantastic. I love the haircut. Let’s get together, okay? I’ve
got so much to tell you about my wolves. It was amazing in the UP
this winter.”

Something about this guy
made Jonny’s stomach turn. The word slimy came to mind. The way he
talked about Renee, the way he was sizing up Isabel while talking
all big about himself when he was fat and soft and smelly. Her old
boyfriend who had married somebody else. Lucky break for
Isabel.

Jonny cleared his throat.
“Ready to go, Iz?” He took her arm and put it through his. “Great
to meet you, Alec. Renee.”

He steered her around the
Bug and put her inside. As he rounded the car he heard Renee’s
whine and Alec’s sharp reply as they stumbled off into the
shadows.

Isabel gave him directions
to get back to Urbana. She seemed stunned into silence by her
boyfriend’s sudden appearance. Jonny frowned as he drove back along
University Avenue. What a creep. What did she see in him? Well, as
he knew to his dismay, you often fell in love with people nobody
else would choose for you.

And if you had half a
brain, people you wouldn’t choose for yourself.

Dr. Mendel’s house was
dark, nestled among the junipers and oaks of the quiet street. The
living room smelled slightly chemical, like the professor was doing
lab work on the coffee table. Isabel searched for a pillow and
blanket in the linen closet. She set them on the sofa.

“
You can make yourself
something to eat if you want. And there’s a TV in that cabinet.
It’s from the seventies but it still works.”

Jonny stepped closer to
her, trying to read her face. “So that’s the guy. The one who broke
your heart?”

She bit her lip. “That’s
Alec.”

“
You still care about
him.”

She still loved him.
Nobody could mistake her fierce reaction, seeing him again. The way
he rendered her mute, just by his presence. Jonny thought about
when he saw Cuppie again, in Red Vine, and how angry he had been
that she’d tracked him down, how
over
her
he was. Isabel was obviously not over
Alec.

“
No. Oh, no.” She shook
her head vehemently. Another sign she was just trying to convince
herself. “It was just a surprise. It’s the first time I’ve seen him
since he got married.”

“
And that didn’t go well,
I take it.”

“
He married a friend of my
sister’s. A couple years older and completely out of his league.
She probably figured out he only married her for her
money.”

“
Well, he’s free again.
Maybe you two will have another chance.”

Her eyes flashed. “No. It’s
over.”

In the yellow lamplight she
seemed vulnerable, almost fragile, her pale skin like porcelain. So
different from the Queen Bee of Red Vine, unpleasant and angry most
of the time. This guy must be why. Her boyfriend had really done a
number on her. He knew what that was like. Cuppie had brainwashed
him, run roughshod over him, for years. So long he didn’t know what
was what anymore. Would he have imagined this weekend a year ago,
even six months ago, out dancing with a smart, cool grad student,
five-hundred miles from home?

Jonny reached up and tucked
a lock of hair behind her ear. She blinked, like she had something
in her eye.

“
Never say never,” he
said.

Chapter 20

Isabel bolted upright.
Outside the sun was high, over the roof of the house next door.
What time was it?
Shit.

She ran downstairs in her
t-shirt and panties, pulling on her robe. She slid to a stop in the
front hall, sticking her head into the living room. The sofa was
empty, the blanket carefully folded, pillow on top. Only dust motes
in the morning sunshine.