AS THE MUSIC HIT her she let her body go with it. Manhattan to Carter’s Landing to Tim’s Place, the last of it, the best of it.
Behind the bar, Polly coolly nodded, then let her eyes wander toward the far wall. Yes, Jeff was there. He was holding a beer bottle, his body moving with the music. He hadn’t seen her. Others were looking, though: the townies, looking over the tourist, then looking away. Everywhere on the Cape it was the same: the tourists looking through the townies, the townies spitting behind the tourists’ backs. Meaning that money made the difference. Manhattan, Caen, Rodeo Drive, the Cape—it was all the same: the beautiful people posing for each other while the peasants looked on. Last week, at the Barnstable airport, she’d seen Teddy Kennedy. He’d looked chubby and old and angry.
Jeff was sitting at a small round table with two other men and a woman. As she watched, one of the men saw her. He touched Jeff’s arm, said something. Quickly, Jeff turned toward her. He was surprised: his standard slow-smiling, lazy-lidded look of sensuous surprise, Elvis without the sideburns.
Carrying the bottle of beer, Jeff rose, said something to the others at the table, walked toward her. Smiling. Strutting.
“Surprise …” He raised the bottle, an invitation. “Have you got that ID?”
“I’ve got better than that, in the car. A lot better.”
He moved closer, put his free hand on her waist, drew her close. He could feel her body pulsing, throbbing. An engine, revving up. Tonight, Diane was ready for anything—everything.
But she’d only left the Cape last Thursday, flying back to New York in her stepfather’s plane. And now she was back. Would he have gotten involved, if he’d known she would come up so often? How far did she think a bottle of booze and a handful of pills and some New York grass could go? Didn’t she ever look in the mirror?
“Okay, gotcha.” Taking his time, he finished the beer, wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, put the empty bottle on the bar. “Let’s go.” He turned her toward the door. As she went through, he turned back, winked. The message: score one more tourist.