From the moment they boarded the bus they were Tom and Nicky…a junior bank executive and a former waiter on a two-week hiatus. Nicky’s sparkling blue eyes and Tom’s boyish good looks charmed everyone on the bus. Tall and slim…both clad in jeans that fit to perfection and knitted shirts that had seen better days, they presented a picture of the great American dream on the move.
“What would they think,” Tom whispered, “if they knew we had just pulled off the biggest heist in recorded history?”
This struck Nicky as very funny. “We did do that, didn’t we? Has anyone ever done it before?”
“I don’t know, but I doubt it. How does it make you feel?”
“Sexy.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No…look…” Nicky pointed toward his lap.
“Christ, it’s standing straight up.”
This was to set the tone for their two weeks on the Jersey shore. Tom had rented a garage apartment behind a very impressive house just one block from the ocean. One bedroom, a small kitchen and even a postage-stamp view of the Atlantic. Their landlords in the manor house, as it was immediately labeled, were a craggy old man and his very nervous wife. “I’m so glad your friend is not a woman, Mr. Bradshaw. Some of our neighbors have had trouble with…well, cohabitating, if you know what I mean.”
Once inside the apartment they squared away the few changes of clothing they had brought with them and Tom asked, “Do you want to go for a swim?”
“After…right now I want to cohabitate.” This became another label that was to remain with them for their two weeks in the sun.
“Are ‘we’ up again?”
Nicky shook his head. “‘We’ never went down.”
In three days they were tan, more handsome than ever, and the talk of the beach. They spent their days swimming and basking, then home for a quick shower and out for a simple dinner before going back to the tiny apartment to sip wine or beer, talk and cohabitate. They lay naked on one of the twin beds, a cool breeze coming through the wide open window, the sound of the surf just audible and a bottle of beer precariously balanced on each firm, flat belly. “The first one who spills it is a shit,” Nicky announced.
“I’m going to laugh.”
“Better not…you’ll drown your little friend.”
“Remember the night you poured champagne ?”
“Your birthday…did you like that?”
“I like you without embellishment better.”
“Better than Moet?”
“Much better.”
“That’s the nicest compliment I’ve ever had.”
“Give Dicky a chance…he’s just warming up to the new you.”
“You know, Tom, I sort of like Dicky.”
Tom drowned his little friend.
§ § § §
One day at the beach two girls who had been staring at them for days finally got up the courage to approach them. “Are you Eric Hall?” one of them asked.
“Yes, I am.”
The girl giggled. “No, you’re not.”
“But he is,” Tom said.
“I told you he wasn’t,” the other girl said, pulling her friend away.
“But I am.”
Giggling and embarrassed the two young things fled.
“Cute, but nuts,” Nicky observed.
“No,” Tom answered, “just human. If you had said you weren’t Eric Hall they would have believed you were. That’s how we got away with it Nicky. I never said you were Eric.”
“And neither did I. Everyone told me I was.”
One evening they walked the boardwalk, watching the young lovers strolling hand in hand and avoiding the fact that in a few days their idyll would be over. They stopped to look at the ocean, lit only by the moon and a starry sky. The air was clear and almost chilly. They were surrounded by people but very much alone. “If I never have anything else in my life, I’ve had this,” Nicky said.
“That’s the nicest compliment anyone’s ever paid me,” Tom answered.
Their hands touched for one brief moment, but because of its clandestine brevity it was more thrilling than any overt display of emotion.
“What’s going to happen to us, Tommy?”
“I don’t know. I thought the Lindenhurst money and the Lindenhurst name could make me legitimate. Why did you do it, Nicky?”
“Because I thought it would make you happy.”
“I want Nicky Three back.”
“It’s too late. It’s not just us anymore…it’s her, too. I love her, Tommy, I love her as if she truly were my grandmother and I won’t let her lose Eric a second time.”
“I burned my ass and now I’m going to have to sit on the blister.”
“A hundred million bucks makes a nice cushion, Thomas.”
“Then let’s make it work, Nicky. Let’s sit on that cushion and turn it into a magic carpet. Come on, smile. We’ve done our homework, passed the exam with flying colors and now we’re going to have some fun.”
“I must be crazy.”
“Why?”
“Because I believe you.”