After the showdown with Mr. Buell, we were careful to avoid each other. I liked to think he’d been drinking too much that day and was ashamed of himself once he sobered up, although I wondered if he ever really sobered up. Whenever I saw him, he always had a dreamy alcoholic glaze in his eyes. There were lots of times when the Buells had Bloody Marys sent over from the main club, and after a few of those, Mrs. Buell would get this look like she was fantasizing about sticking a knife in her husband’s back.
Because Mr. Buell kept his distance and because LeGrand and I were kind-of-sort-of friends, my guard was down the day I found myself alone with Mr. Buell once again. Bing was outside giving a lesson and I was on the laptop tallying up the stats for a tennis tournament, ongoing since the past week. I looked up when I heard the jingle bells of the opening door.
“Hey there, precious.” Mr. Buell made his way over to me. I literally felt the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
“What can I help you with, sir?” The sir was not the friendly, informal kind Bing had taught me. It was more the, okay you’ve got power over me and I don’t like it kind.
“Sir? We’re beyond that by now, aren’t we?”
I didn’t say a word but just waited to see what would happen next. He got real close to me—so close our arms were touching. I stepped to the side a few inches and he reached around behind me and rubbed his hand up and down my back.
“Mr. Buell, could you stop? That’s really inappropriate, and you’re making me uncomfortable.” I took another step away from him.
“Awww, now I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable. You know Mrs. Buell and I think the world of you.”
Why he brought his wife into this majorly disturbing moment, I wasn’t sure. As though she was somehow giving him permission, so it was okay.
“If you think the world of me, like you say, you won’t ever do that again.” My face was hot with anger.
“Your daddy’s the new golf pro, isn’t he? Pat Fremont?”
“Yes, he is.” I heard the threatening subtext of his question and my stomach sunk like a diving sub.
“I ran into him the other day. He’s a real nice fella, by golly. Your mama too, pretty lady. I can see where you get your good looks.”
Here was the threat. He didn’t have to say it—put up or shut up. How did I feel about another move to another state, if Dad could even find a job in this economy?
My mouth opened once or twice, all kinds of responses on the tip of my tongue. Then, just like the saying goes, I was saved by the bell. The door jingled open and Bing walked in. For a half second he seemed to be studying the expression on my face, and then he shifted his gaze to Mr. Buell.
“The court’s open now, sir, if you’re ready.”
“Ready, willing, and able, Bing! Let’s get to it.” He turned and smiled so nice, you’d never know what a pig he really was. “Thanks for your help, Babe.”
I reminded myself that in six weeks the Buells would get back on their boat and sail up the Mississippi River to Memphis where I would never have to see them again. I’d be leaving for college in a year, and the following summer I could find a job wherever I decided to go to school. All I had to do was try to avoid Mr. Buell for this one summer, and then I’d be done with him forever. In the meantime, I couldn’t put my parents’ future in jeopardy.
Why me? I didn’t kid myself that I was irresistible to men. He would never pull this shit on someone like Mattie Lynn and, if young girls were his thing, she was definitely a much more attractive target. But no, it wasn’t about that. I knew it was all about power for him, and I was a “nobody.” It made me wonder about Kay who was on leave from the tennis shop. Had she experienced the same thing with Mr. Buell? And how much did Bing know, if anything? I had a lot of questions, but the most important one—how was I going to handle it?—I had no answer for that.