PAULINE AND MELISSA
J. J. Brearton
I
 Melissa Adzu thought she was wild. She thought she was hot stuff. She owned a soda machine, had kissed a boy, and was only 13 years old.
Melissa didn’t know wild, though, until she met Pauline Meltdown. Of course, Meltdown was not her real name. But then, what was her name? And who knew it?
Pauline was the answer to the question of whatever happens to those child stars.
They run away.
Pauline had run away.
Pauline met Melissa when she checked into the C-Nick Motel in Bell Harbor, Maine.
Melissa’s parents owned the motel. She was keeping an eye on the office while her father was out cutting the grass. Her mother was in town shopping.
Melissa’s mother never left her in charge of the office by herself. She was afraid of what might happen. But as Melissa often said, to no avail, “What can happen?”
Her father would sometimes ask her to watch the office when Melissa’s mother was not around. It was usually only for a few minutes. Sometimes he’d be called away to fix a pipe, an air-conditioner, or something else. He really didn’t like working in the office.
It was a cool morning, the first of July, and Melissa was in the office, trying to remember what to do if someone came in, making sure her hair looked O.K., and ready to say, “Yeah, I know. I’m young looking for 18. Everybody says that. I’m going to Dartmouth in the fall.” She rehearsed this in the mirror. Then she straightened out the postcard rack near the front door.
She had just finished the bottom row, and spun the rack around, when a dark haired girl in sunglasses rushed into the office and went past her up to the front desk.
“You got our reservation?” the girl said, to no one in particular. She looked behind the counter and rang the bell twice.
“Yes?” Melissa said, a bit unnerved, as she hurried behind the counter. “And your name?”
“Blakely. There are three of us.”
“Three of you?” She fumbled through the reservation cards for a moment. “I don’t see any Blakely. No B’s at all. When did you call?”
“Well, my father called. He said he did. He’s forgetful. He’s been so busy. I see your ‘vacancy’ sign is up. Do you have a room?”
Melissa looked over the keys. There were five left. The calendar showed two reservations, “Yes, I think we—”
She stopped short. The girl had gone to the door and was saying something to somebody outside. Melissa couldn’t see who it was. The girl came back in.
“So, do you have anything?” she asked.
“Yes,” Melissa said. “A nice room with two single beds. But you said you had three in your party.”
“Yeah, but I’ll just use a cot. You have a cot, right?”
“Sure,” Melissa said. “We can have a cot put in.”
“Great,” the girl said. “How much?”
“Ninety-eight dollars, plus tax.”
“O.K.”
“Just fill this out,” Melissa said, handing her a registration card. “Cash or credit?”
“Cash,” the girl said. She pulled out two one hundred dollar bills from a tiny black sequined handbag and put them on the counter.
“One night?” Melissa asked.
The girl was staring out the window.
“Oh, yeah,” she said. “Here.” She pulled out two more hundred-dollar bills. “Three nights.” She paced the office from the counter to the door and back.
Melissa handed her the key to number 5. The girl grabbed it and rushed out the door.
“Hey,” Melissa said. “Your change!”
Before Melissa could run after her, a very tall well-dressed man stepped into the office. He was an albino. He was handsome, but yet at the same time, there was something very scary about him.
“I need a room,” he said. “Got any vacancies?”
“Sure,” Melissa said.
“I need a room for 2 girls. Friends of mine.”
“Oh, sure,” Melissa said. “Just fill out this card.”
In a few moments he had filled out the registration card and handed it back. It listed two people, “Tawny Dawn” and “Bunny Welcome,” as the guests. No car was listed.
“No car?” Melissa asked.
“No,” the man said. “I’ll be back to get them in a few days.”
“Oh, sure,” Melissa said. “How many days?”
“Three days.”
She figured out the charge, and he gave her a credit card. In a few moments, he was gone.
Melissa’s father came in from the game room downstairs.
“So, how did it go?” he asked.
“Great,” she said. “Two rooms. Three nights each.”
“Wow,” he said. “You did great!”
Melissa bit her lip.
“What’s the matter honey-bunch?”
“One of the guests, in number five, forgot her change. Oh, and she wants a cot.”
“Bring her the change. Bring her the cot. What’s the problem?”
Melissa brightened up. “No problem. No problem at all!”
She grabbed the money and ran out the door. Frankly, she was glad to get out. The office thing was a headache. She wanted to get outside and back to her usual jobs, skimming bugs off the water in the pool and keeping the soda machine full.
II
The Cot
Melissa heard music when she got to the storage room. She couldn’t figure where it was coming from. It started getting louder as she rolled the cot down the sidewalk to Room 5. When she got to the picture window of Room 5, through a little break in the curtains, Melissa saw the girl she had given the key to. She was dancing, by herself, in front of the full length mirror hung up on the outside of the bathroom door. She was a very good dancer. The song ended and a disc jockey from one of the local radio stations came on. Melissa knocked on the door. The radio went silent, and the girl answered the door.
“Your cot!” Melissa announced.
“Awesome,” the girl said. “Thanks.”
Melissa got it through the door and wheeled it near the front of the room. “Want me to open it up?”
“Open it up? No, I can do that.”
“O.K., great,” Melissa said. “See you.”
“Wait a minute,” the girl said. “Here.” She handed Melissa a $10 bill.
“Wow,” Melissa said. “Thanks.” She skipped out the door down to the pool. Suddenly, she remembered the change she was supposed to deliver—the money left over from paying for the motel room. She ran back to the room and knocked on the door. The girl opened the door.
“Your change. I forgot.”
They both laughed as Melissa handed her the money.
“See you.” Melissa said, and ran back to the pool.
III
Bug Skimmer
Momentarily startled, bug skimmer in hand, Melissa stood by the side of the pool while Tawny and Bunny came through the wire fence door. Their spectacularly curvy, gorgeous bodies were clad in skimpy bikinis. They headed for the plastic lounge chairs.
Bunny waved and said, “Hi!”
Melissa waved back and said, “Good morning.”
Within a few minutes, the doors of some of the other occupied rooms began opening.
Baldheaded, wrinkled old men, part of the usual cast of characters at the C-Nick Motel, carried their beach towels to the pool, with a little spring in their step, and a sparkle in their eye.
IV
On The Rocks
Pauline was out on the rocks, well into the ocean, and had a canvas propped up on a boulder. She painted a glistening sea while the sun rose. Far off to her left, perhaps a quarter of a mile away, she saw someone else. It was a large black man. He had an easel. He was also painting.
Pauline worked for an hour but was distracted by her curiosity. She put her canvas and painting supplies in a plastic bag and walked down the rocky coast. Coming up behind the man she saw that he was painting an ocean scene. Of course, she thought to herself, what else. But his painting was magnificent. He was a gigantic man. She estimated that he must be six foot six or ten, something like that, and big, maybe 300 pounds. He painted with a tiny brush, with careful, light touches. She noticed a boat in the painting and looked out to sea. There was nothing there. She walked up next to him.
“Where’s the boat?” She said.
He looked up at her with not much surprise and said, “Nantucket Sound.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Yes. Just getting the colors. Same colors. Same ocean. Same sun.”
“Right,” she said. She stood for a while looking at the painting, looking at the ocean. He had the colors right.
“Would you take a look at what I’ve done?”
“Sure.”
He stopped what he was doing and put his brushes in jars placed on the rocks. He turned to her and waited.
Slowly, carefully, she pulled her painting out of the plastic bag.
“May I?” he said.
He picked her painting up by its edges and looked it over.
“Very good,” he said. “Painting the ocean is very difficult. You’ve got a Turner look to this.”
Her painting was a bit foggy in spots.
“I prefer people in my paintings,” he said.
“You do?” She looked at his painting. “I don’t see any in your painting.”
“You don’t?” He smiled. “Look closer.”
She bent over and now focused on the boat. It looked like a ferry. She could see some specks. “What is this, a ferry?”
“Sure,” he said. “It’s the ferry to Martha’s Vineyard.”
“And there’s people on it?”
“Sure, of course. Can’t you see them?”
She looked at the specks. “Yes, I see them now.”
“Without people in your painting, it’s like, there’s no life. I mean, I don’t like painting fish or rabbits, you know, dumb animals.”
“Yeah,” she said. “You’re right.” She shrugged her shoulders. She suddenly felt she was missing something. She didn’t know what.
“I have to go,” she said. “Thanks.” She took her painting and put it back in her bag.
“Keep painting,” he yelled, as she walked away.
V
Nothing But Basketball
Pauline was just getting up to the road from the rocky coast with her art supplies, now heavy, in a plastic bag, when she saw two black limousines parked in front of the C-Nick Motel. She saw Melissa hand a tall, rather familiar looking man a soda. The man smiled, gave Melissa a playful salute and got into the back seat of one of the limos.
In a second the cars left. Pauline walked across the road to Melissa, who was standing next to the soda machine, waving goodbye.
“Do you know who that was?” Pauline said.
“Sure,” Melissa said. “It was George.”
“George? You call him George?”
“Sure. What else? He’s the only reason I keep Dr. Pepper in the machine. He says it’s the only place he can get it.”
“That was George Bush. Don’t you know who George Bush is?”
“Sure I do, honey. He’s lived around here for years. Want a cola?”
“A cola? Well, yeah, but I think I don’t have any money on me. I just went down to the beach.”
“Hey, no problem. You can pay me later,” she said, handing her a bottle.
“No. Come on. I’ll get it.” Pauline motioned for her to follow.
Melissa and Pauline walked over to the motel rooms.
“So you’re a painter,” Melissa said.
“Yeah. I like to paint.”
“My uncle’s a painter. You might have even seen him down there.”
“You mean on the rocks?” Pauline said.
“Yeah, he goes down there.”
“Not the big black guy.”
“Yeah. That’s Uncle Rick,” she said with a big grin. “He played for the Patriots for a year and a half. He’s big isn’t he?”
“Yeah,” Pauline said, “he’s real big. He’s nice though.”
“Rick? Oh, Rick is great. You met him?”
“Yeah, I was talking to him.”
“Say, I forgot your name.”
“Pauline,” she said as she got to the door.
“Do you have a C.D. player?” Melissa said.
“Yeah, sorry. Was it too loud?”
“Oh, no. I just don’t have a C.D. player. I was wondering how it sounded.”
“Want to hear it?”
“Oh, really? That would be nice. Yeah.”
They went into Pauline’s room and Pauline put on a C.D.
“Your parents are gone?” Melissa said.
“What?”
“I said are your parents gone?”
“Uh, yeah,” Pauline said. “Let me get you that money.”
Pauline started pulling on a dresser drawer but couldn’t get it to pull out.
“Let me try that,” Melissa said.
Melissa grabbed the drawer, grunted a few times, and suddenly it came unstuck and pulled out, throwing clothes, money and a gun up in the air. The clothes, the money and the gun fell back in the drawer.
Melissa stared at the gun.
Pauline pushed the drawer shut. “That must be my Dad’s.”
“Geez. I don’t know,” Melissa said. “I don’t know if you’re supposed to have guns in here.”
Melissa got up from the floor where she had fallen when the drawer pulled out. She headed for the door.
“Wait. Here,” Pauline said, handing Melissa a 20-dollar bill. “This is for the cola. I really would appreciate it if you didn’t say anything.”
“You’re giving me 20 dollars not to say anything?”
“No. For the soda. And future sodas. Like a fund or something.”
“A fund for sodas? I don’t know. That’s a lot of sodas.”
“I know, but you don’t know how thirsty I get. That’s as long as you don’t say anything.”
Pauline thought about this for a minute. “I don’t know,” she said. “I’d want to ask my dad.”
“What? You have to ask your dad every time you go to the bathroom.”
“No. It’s just. . . I don’t like guns. We don’t like them. Ever since. . .ever since...well, forget it. Here. Take the 20 bucks. The soda is on me.”
“Wait a minute. Hold it. What if I was your friend?”
“Your friend?”
“Yeah, like I was your friend. Would you try to get your friend kicked out?”
“What do you mean kicked out?”
“Am I your friend?”
“Well, I just met you.”
“So?”
“I don’t know. I guess you could be my friend. I actually don’t have any friends, except maybe if you count the boy in 18, and I just kind of talked to him twice, and he’s leaving in...leaving in...” Her voice trailed off.
“So, am I your friend or what?”
“Well, am I your friend?”
“Sure. You’re my friend.”
Melissa was staring out the screen door of the room. She was watching the boy from 18 who was walking toward the basketball hoop near the pool, bouncing a basketball. He took a few shots.
“If you’re my friend,” Melissa said, “would you play basketball with me?”
“Basketball?”
“Yeah, basketball.”
Pauline now could actually hear the basketball bouncing.
“O.K. sure,” she said.
“O.K., come on.”
Melissa headed out the door. She paused a few steps away. Finally, Pauline came out.
“Come on,” Melissa said, walking towards the basketball hoop.
At the edge of a 3-point shot circle that had been painted on the pavement, she stopped. The boy from 18 barely looked over, just kept shooting short jump shots, getting his own rebounds, and doing fancy lay ups.
Finally, the ball bounced over to Melissa.
She said, “Me and. .Me and.”
She paused and ran over to Pauline. She whispered in her ear, “What’s your name again?”
“Pauline.”
“Oh, yeah.”
Melissa threw the ball to the boy from 18. “Me and Pauline will play you to 11. What’s your name?”
“Jed.”
“I’m Melissa,” she said, then reached out her hand to shake his. When he stretched his hand out she pulled hers back quickly. “Got ‘cha. You take it out.”
Melissa whispered to Pauline, “Cover him. I’ll play under the basket.”
“Is this a 3 pointer?” Jed said, pointing to the 3-point line.
“You guessed it,” Melissa said. “Let’s go.”
Jed blew past Pauline, stopped just short of Melissa, and put up a short jumper. It was good. “Nothing but net,” he said.
Melissa grabbed the ball, passed it to Pauline, and said, “Take it out.”
Pauline passed it to Melissa, who dribbled once, took a look at the basket and passed back to Pauline. Pauline drained a three pointer.
“Wow,” Jed said. “That’s good for being cold.”
“I’m never cold,” Pauline said, and giggled slightly. Laughing, she thought, maybe for the first time in weeks.
Again Jed blew past Pauline, stopped short of Melissa, pulled up for a shot, and Melissa knocked the ball out of his hands before he could put it up. Melissa grabbed the ball and quickly took a shot. It went in.
“O.K.” Jed said. “Good one.”
He took it out. This time Pauline backed off a bit, but stayed with him, pushing him off to the right. He put up a hook shot that hit the side of the backboard.
“Nothing but backboard,” Melissa said, as Pauline got the rebound. Pauline quickly passed it to Melissa, screened off Jed and Melissa put up an easy lay up.
“Nothing but backboard and net,” Melissa said, after she banked it in.
“You’re a talker,” Jed said, as he received the ball back.
“Who’s talking?” Melissa said, “I’m not saying anything.”
Before they could get set, Jed put up a 3 pointer and sunk it.
“Good shot,” Melissa said, and passed it to Pauline to take out.
Pauline passed it in to Melissa. She dribbled once, faked a pass to Pauline and as Jed backed up slightly, launched a shot that went off the rim.
“Nothing but rim,” Jed said. He grabbed the rebound and quickly dribbled out beyond the 3-point arc.
“Cover him,” Melissa said.
Jed gave Pauline a head fake and dribbled by her. Melissa cut him off about 5 feet from the basket. He tried to stop, put up the shot, and knocked Melissa down. The shot went in.
Melissa quickly got up, brushing off the back of her shorts. She grabbed the ball and dribbled it slowly out beyond the 3 point circle. “Kind of a charge there,” she said.
“You were moving. Could have been a blocking foul,” Jed said with a smile.
“I’ll take it out,” she said.
Jed had Pauline covered so closely that all Melissa could do was loop it over her head towards the basket. Pauline made an awkward leap and grabbed the ball. Jed cut her off just short of the basket and she dribbled away to the left. Melissa got back down under the net. She liked to play there. At 5’ 11”, she was almost as tall as Jed.
“Shoot,” Melissa said.
Pauline put up the shot and missed. Melissa boxed Jed out with her rear end.
She got the rebound and tried a quick turnaround jump shot from the right side. Jed blocked it and knocked the ball away. The ball bounced once on the pavement and Pauline grabbed it. She tried to put up a shot but Jed was there, holding his hands up. Her shot grazed the top of the backboard and bounced away.
Melissa ran it down and dribbled slowly in. They were all out of breath now. Jed came out to meet her, holding his hands up to prevent a pass. Melissa turned around and backed him in, bumping him twice, hard, on purpose. The second time, he was a little off balance and she threw a bounce pass to Pauline, who put in a lay up.
Jed grabbed the ball and walked it out beyond the three-point line. His cheeks were red. Sweat was pouring from his face. He just had a flimsy trace of beard.
Melissa and Pauline stood with their hands on their hips, breathing hard, smiling at each other. “Now we got him,” Pauline said.
“Not just yet,” Jed said, as he put up a 3 pointer. It hit the rim and backboard and the rim again and rolled out. “Nothing but backboard and rim,” Melissa said. She grabbed the rebound and dribbled out to half court. Jed tried to steal the ball but she eluded him and passed it in to Pauline, who tried to bank it in. It bounced around a few times, swirled around the rim and finally went it.
“Nothing but all three,” Melissa said.
“You’re talking again,” Jed said, wagging his finger at her.
“What?” Melissa said, with a big grin. “I didn’t say anything.” She passed the ball to Jed. Before Pauline could get back, he put up a 3 pointer that was good. Melissa dribbled out to half court.
She passed it in to Pauline. Pauline passed it back. Jed was winded. He was slowing down a bit trying to cover both of them.
Melissa passed it back to Pauline. She dribbled in for a lay up. Jed just got back in time. Pauline drove her shoulder into his chest as she put up the shot. The collision jarred her and she missed everything.
“Nothing but air,” Jed said as he grabbed the ball and put up his own shot, which was good.
“O.K.,” Pauline said. “Nice play.”
“Sorry,” Jed said, as Pauline walked to the half court, holding the ball in one hand, and rubbing her shoulder with the other.
“Let’s try that again,” she said, and passed in to Melissa. Melissa dribbled once and passed it back. Pauline faked a shot and passed to Melissa. Melissa dribbled and started to back in. She threw a bounce pass to Pauline. Pauline dribbled in to try a lay up and Jed cut off her lane to the basket. This time Pauline put out a forearm with her shoulder and knocked him down. She tripped over his legs, put up the shot and landed on top of him. The ball went through the net and landed on her back. Pauline scrambled to get off him.
Melissa grabbed the ball just in time to hear a woman’s voice call out, “Jed! It’s time to go.”
They all looked around to see Jed’s mother leaning over the front seat of a station wagon, looking at them. “Come on,” she said. “We’ve got to pick your father up at the golf course.”
Jed got up, brushed himself off and walked slowly away. “Nice game,” he said, with a grin.
“Tomorrow, maybe,” Melissa said.
“Leaving tomorrow,” he said, as he got into the car.
“Well, bright and early then,” she said.
He waved as he got in the car and his mother drove off.
VI
At The Pool
Melissa and Pauline stood near the basketball hoop, hands on hips, a bit out of breath, watching the car disappear around a corner.
“Jeez,” Melissa said. “That’s what always happens. As soon as I meet a nice guy, he takes off.”
“Yeah,” Pauline said, “I know what you mean.”
“Didn’t you think he was a nice guy?”
“Yeah. He was a good guy.”
“Yeah. I liked him,” Melissa said.
She stared at the traffic on the highway for a moment, and then turned to Pauline. “Hey, I’m hot,” she said. “Want to take a dip in the pool?”
“I don’t know,” Pauline replied. “I’m kind of wiped out.”
“Oh, come on.”
“I don’t know,” Pauline said, and headed over to her room. “I might just lie down.”
“Suit yourself,” Melissa said. “I’ll just ask my Dad about that gun thing.”
Pauline paused. “You know,” she said, “I think I will take a dip.”
“Great,” Melissa said. “See you in a few minutes.”
When Pauline arrived at the pool, Melissa was swimming laps. Melissa saw Pauline looking around for a chair. Tawny Dawn and Buffy Welcome were sunbathing there. The place was packed.
“Hey, over here,” Melissa said, standing in the pool, wiping water from her face. She pointed to a lawn chair with a striped towel over it. “I got you a chair. The one with the striped towel.”
Pauline forced a smile, went over to the chair, a chaise lounge, and sat down. Melissa got out of the pool and walked over, dripping wet. She grabbed the striped towel and dried herself off. She then spread the towel out on the concrete and sat down. “You take the chair. After all, you’re a guest.”
Pauline looked bored.
“Why don’t you go in?” Melissa said. “It’s pretty good. Not too cold.”
“Maybe in a minute.”
VII
Tawny Blows Pauline’s Cover
Bunny Welcome was 37 years old—-almost old enough to be Tawny Dawn’s mother. Tawny was 21.
“You know I’ve only been doing this stuff for my son,” Tawny said.
“I know, but this movie thing is a lot of money. A good opportunity.”
“I just don’t like the junk they do in them. It’s not the real movies. I want to get in the real movies.”
“You want to start at the top? Forget it,” Bunny said. “A lot of girls cross over. In any event, it’s good money. You just pretend. Pretend it isn’t happening.”
“I don’t know.”
“You better make up your mind soon. Rocky’s coming back tomorrow morning.”
“The heck with Rocky.”
“You owe Rocky.”
“I’ll pay him back.”
“Rocky doesn’t like getting paid back.”
“Hey,” Tawny said, “isn’t that Pauline Meltdown?”
“Who?”
VII
Autograph
“Pauline Meltdown,” Tawny said. “She’s on that T.V. show.”
“Never heard of her,” Buffy replied.
Tawny leaned over and grabbed a tiny, sequined purse. She pulled out a mirror and checked her makeup. She adjusted her sunglasses, pulled out a tiny brush, and ran it through her hair.
Tawny took a deep breath. She got up from the chaise lounge lawn chair by the side of the pool and headed towards the shallow end, snapping her bikini in place, adjusting her top, and just driving the old men seated along the edge of the pool wild.
She was a little nervous, and walked completely oblivious to their staring eyes.
“Miss Meltdown,” she said, as she stepped up to Pauline, “I really admire your work. Could I have your autograph?”
Pauline strained her eyes in the glimmering hot sun and saw Tawny standing there.
“Sure,” she said. Tawny handed her a pen and a small notepad.
“You must have a great agent,” Tawny said.
Pauline handed the pen and pad back, after writing her name, and “Best Wishes.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Pauline said.
“I’m going to be doing a movie soon, and I just wondered, who is your agent?”
“Bobbie Greene.”
“Really? Where’s he from?”
“Bobbie’s a woman. From Studio City.”
“Could I say you recommended me?”
“Sure. What’s your name?”
“Tawn—,” she stopped herself. “Tawn Du.”
“Tawn Du?”
“Yeah, Tawn Du. I’m part Korean.” Tawny was getting a bit more nervous now.
“That’s nice,” Pauline said, not knowing what to say.
“Well, thanks,” Tawny said. “I’ve got to go.”
“Good luck,” Pauline said.
She watched heads turn as Tawny walked back to her chair writing “Bobbie Greene, Studio City” in her notepad.
“Who the heck was that?” Melissa asked.
“Tawn Du, I guess.”
“I mean, why did she ask for your autograph?”
“I don’t know. Must have me mixed up with somebody else.”
“Wow, that’s funny. But who’s that agent?”
“Oh, I just made that up.”
Melissa’s eyebrows crinkled up, while she considered all this information.
Pauline decided to change the subject.
“What’s this stuff about the gun?” she said.
“The gun?”
“Why’s everybody so touchy about that?”
“Well, to tell you the truth, I really don’t want to talk about it.”
Melissa sat in silence for a few moments. Pauline raised an eyebrow, and just stared at her.
“O.K. I’ll tell you,” Melissa said with a sigh.
“My sister Sue killed herself. Or that’s what they figured happened. That big black guy, the artist, my uncle, was married to her. He said she asked for the gun for protection. They were often on the road, for away games. He was playing for the Patriots. I probably told you that. Anyway, if he had told us, we wouldn’t have allowed it, because Sue always had...always had...I don’t know, things like, nervous breakdowns. My Mom, you know, she was...she was... well, Sue was my half-sister. She had a tough time. Her dad died when she was young. She kept running away. Went to Alaska. All over. We knew she was real fragile, and we just thought, they never should have had that gun around. Room 8. That’s where it was. We can’t bear to rent it out, but now, it works out, because my uncle stays there. He was away at the time. We all love him. He was just devastated and lost. I can understand. Because Sue was like my only friend. The only friend who went away, but would come back. My only friend.”
Tears were really rolling now. Down her cheeks. Pauline noticed one splash on the concrete. Melissa quickly got up, and ran for the office building and her room upstairs.
“I’m your friend!” Pauline yelled, as she saw Melissa run up the wooden outdoor stairs to the second floor. “I am!”
Melissa disappeared through a door.
Pauline noticed a few people staring at her. She felt so hot!
She threw off her sunglasses and dove into the pool. She swam under the surface, in the blue, cold, chlorine-tinged water, all the way to the deep end. She felt she just had to get away. But she needed air. She surfaced at the end of the pool and got out. Dripping wet, she noticed Tawny Dawn and Bunny Welcome staring at her. She headed out through the gate, and back to her room.
IX
Clem’s
When Pauline got back to her room, her first thought was that she had to get rid of the gun. The next thing that occurred to her was that she was absolutely, completely starving. She pulled the gun out of her dresser drawer, put it in her purse and headed out the door.
Hopping in her car, an ancient, 20 year old Chrysler 5th Avenue, she cranked the engine a few times until it finally started. It had way over 100,000 miles on it, a bad muffler, and blew hot air out of the air conditioning. One window out of four went up and down. It was supposed to have power windows, but just the driver’s side worked.
The best thing about the car was that it cost only $900.00, cash. Incredibly rusty, it had impressive dents on all sides, but, as the young kid who sold it to her said, it was inspected.
When she got to the road out of the C-Nick parking lot, she wasn’t sure which way to go. She took a left, drove down a hill and came to a bay. There were fishing boats tied up and a few wooden shacks built on the rocks. They looked like boathouses.
Then she saw “Clem’s,” a little neon lit diner across the road from the bay.
She couldn’t get inside fast enough. She had barely enough time to remember to shut off the car as she skidded to a dusty halt in the tiny parking lot. As she opened the door to the diner, she had to hesitate slightly, as it seemed like the car was still going. There were a few crackling noises, then a wheeze and with a little puff of blue smoke, it finally stopped.
She quickly made it to the counter and squeezed herself in between two fairly hefty old ladies. She reached to her right to grab a menu wedged between a sugar canister and an ashtray. She glanced at it for a second. She knew what she wanted. She started waving her hand at the short order cook. He didn’t look over. He was busy making breakfast, lunch, dinner, eggs, bacon, grilled cheese sandwiches, steaks, home fries, French fries, everything, all the while manipulating the 8 slice toaster.
Finally, after watching him for a few moments in amazement, she said, “Clem! Hey, Clem!”
Sure enough, he looked over, and grabbed the towel slung over his shoulder, wiping his hands.
“What can I get you?” he said.
“Well done hamburger, fries and a cola, please.”
She watched him put on the hamburger and throw fries in the basket. He put a glass of ice on the counter, and wiped it off a little with the towel.
“Malarkey’s Cola O.K.?”
“Sure.”
He put down a can of Malarkey’s. She looked at it for a second and, reading the label, noticed it was made in Canada.
“His brother works for Malarkey’s, so you can’t get a coke or a Pepsi here,” the old woman to her left said with a smile.
Pauline downed the Malarkey’s almost immediately. When he put the fries out she asked for another. He brought the hamburger and took a pencil from behind his ear. He made a few notes on a pad.
“Anything else?” he said.
“No,” she replied. “I’m O.K.”
X
THE YELLOW LOBSTER
Melissa was in her room just looking out the window. The sun was shining brightly over the glistening blue water, but she didn’t feel bright, she felt blue.
“Why does everything have to end? Why does everything have to die?” She asked herself, as she looked at the dusty, abandoned restaurant across the street, surrounded by bright green maple trees. It was called the Yellow Lobster. It had an old sign out front with a barely discernable picture of a lobster on it, painted yellow.
“Why can’t things be like that maple tree?” She thought to herself. The maple trees lost their leaves in the fall, but in the spring, the leaves came back, like newborn babes. Even the plants in Florida changed, she noticed, in the middle of winter, but they came back, or, rather, stayed there.
She looked at the ocean and the sun reflecting off of it. Both the sun and the ocean were always changing, but always the same. “Why can’t everything be like that?” She asked herself.
As she looked at the Yellow Lobster, she felt sad. She used to love going to breakfast there and talking with Mrs. O’My, but this year, just like last year, she didn’t come back. Mrs. O’My had asked Melissa’s father to keep an eye on the place and he had delegated that duty to Melissa.
So, now, she thought of that, and decided to go over to inspect.
She knew her father had a key, but she didn’t want to go look for him, so she just headed over. She knew a good way to get in.
She ran across the road and around to the back. A big enclosed porch wrapped around the back of the building and the kitchen. A short flight of wooden stairs led up to the back door, but that was securely locked.
Nope. That wasn’t the way to get in. The way was how she’d always get in, just to scare the cook. She went to the top of the stairs, climbed up on the edge of a window to the right of the stairs and grabbed the tin roof with her hands. Then she headed around the corner to her right, across the back of the porch and the windows to the north edge of the porch, then, not looking down, because it was about a 30 foot drop, she inched toward the last window. She took out her comb slipped it through the crack in the middle of the wooden and glass window, and pushed the latch up and open. The window swung out from the middle. It was a little rusty, and took a good, careful push to open, but then, as always, it did. She inched over and as usual, with a little sigh of relief, she crawled in the window.
The porch was filled with junk. She tried the door to the kitchen which led from the porch, but she was surprised to find it was locked. She decided to try the back stairs. An old stove was shoved up against the back of the stairs, and it’s “secret” door. Secret that is, to practically nobody who knew anything about the Yellow Lobster. The door had no doorknob, and was hidden in the woodwork, but she knew, if she could just move that stove away, if you pulled on the bottom of the door, where there was a little space, it would open.
With a few hard pushes, she moved the stove, and not without a little difficulty got the door to the back stairs open. She felt her way forward to make sure of the steep, curving stairs, which wound around the chimney, all the way up to the Widow’s Walk and the trap door there.
When she got to the second floor, she pushed open the door. Luckily, it was open a crack. There was a lock, but it had been left open somehow, like it was, probably, half the time. The door opened up on an upstairs guest bedroom, and the door was to the right of the fireplace, hidden in the white painted paneling.
She walked through the sad, sad, lonely house, and wondered why Mrs. O’My didn’t come back. She went downstairs to the restaurant and went into the bar and looked around. All the stools were upside down on the bar. The chairs and tables were pushed against the north wall, probably, she figured, when they shined the floors, though now, she had to admit, they looked a little dark and dusty.
She said, “what the heck,” and headed back upstairs, through the hidden panel door and up the back stairs to the Widow’s Walk.
She pushed open the heavy wooden trap door, covered with tar paper on top, and felt and breathed the strong sea air. She climbed up, took a deep breath, saw something to her right behind the chimney and screamed.
XI
Still At The Diner
Pauline got up off her stool to pay the bill. She didn’t want to look through her bag for money right next to the people sitting nearby. She was afraid they would see the gun.
Now, as she looked through her purse, she became almost frantic. It seemed she had left her money in her small bag...the one she had left back in her room, when she’d discovered the gun wouldn’t fit in it. The big old bag she had now didn’t seem to have any money in it. She looked through the side pockets.
“Something wrong Miss?” Clem said.
The women sitting at the counter looked over at her.
“Well,” she thought to herself in an exasperated, silly way, “maybe I could just pull out this gun and hold the place up.”
Just then, to her relief, she found a credit card in a small, zippered inside pocket.
“Take credit cards?” she said.
“Sure do,” Clem replied. He grabbed it and headed down the counter towards the cash register.
Pauline let out a sigh, and smiled as the women turned back to their meals.
“I’ve got to get rid of this gun,” she thought to herself again. She looked out the window and saw the bay. She decided she would go across the street and see if she could toss the gun in the ocean.
XII
Widow’s Walk
On the widow’s walk, on top of the Yellow Lobster, a man with shiny sunglasses had suddenly appeared from behind the chimney.
Melissa ran down the stairs. At the second floor she went out the wooden fireplace doors and through the bridal suite. She heard loud footsteps coming after her. A man shouted the words “Wait! Hold up!”
She now ran even faster down the hall. She grabbed the banister. It bent towards her as she swung down the stairs to the first floor.
She heard the man running after her. She slammed into the front door. Furiously she fumbled with the dead bolt, the lock, the front door—the wooden screen door.
She heard a voice yell behind her: “Melissa! Hold up!”
She skidded to a halt in the parking lot. She was stunned. “That voice,” she said to herself. “Who was that?”
She saw a golden yellow corvette parked in the front lot. She kicked at the stones and white broken clamshells that paved the lot.
It was Robert.
Robert, the man she loved.
She ran across the road.
What a jerk she was to have screamed and ran, she thought. She ran faster. Her clothes were covered with dirt and soot. She looked terrible!
XIII
Boathouse Art Gallery
Pauline walked across the road and climbed over the guardrail. To her right was a boathouse that seemed like it had been converted into an art gallery. To the left of the boathouse there was a canvas roofed display area, with paintings hung on wooden stands.
She thought she’d stroll through the paintings, just to take a look. They were mostly seascapes, boats and harbors, blues and reds and greens.
Rick stepped out the open boathouse door. He recognized Pauline, but was surprised to see her there.
“Well, hello,” he said. She was surprised herself. She stepped back a little.
They both then heard a loud scream coming from up the hill, near where the C-Nick Motel was.
“Just a second,” Rick said as he turned and headed towards the road. Pauline saw him drop two paintbrushes that he held in one hand.
He walked up the road at a brisk pace. Pauline felt uneasy. She followed him as he hurried up the gentle incline.
On the crest of the hill Rick and Pauline saw Melissa. She had stopped at the side of the road in front of the Yellow Lobster and glanced down the hill towards them. Then she ran across the road.
Rick was now running. So was Pauline. When they got to the crest of the hill, just in front of the restaurant, they saw Robert running through the parking lot.
“What’s going on,” Rick said.
“Nothing,” Robert said. “I guess I just surprised her. She got scared and ran.”
Rick and Pauline looked at him dubiously. They then headed across the road towards the C-Nick. Robert followed them.
Rick and Pauline went around the back of the motel office building. Pauline saw Jed near the basketball hoop.
“Did you see Melissa?” Pauline said.
“Your friend? She went in there,” he said, pointing to the back door of the Motel.
Rick and Pauline went in through the back door that led to the kitchen.
When Rick got inside the kitchen he yelled out, “Melissa—Melissa, are you O.K.?”
They waited a few moments, but heard nothing.
They heard the screen door open and Tawny Dawn appeared before them, slightly out of breath.
“Miss Meltdown,” she said, “You’ve got to help me.”
“What?” was all Pauline could think to say.
Suddenly a tall, well-dressed man, an albino, came into the kitchen from the back door.
“Let’s go, Tawny,” he said.
Tawny ran behind Pauline.
“I’m not going,” she said.
“You are going, kid,” the albino said. He reached around Pauline to get a hold of Tawny’s arm.
“Hold on here,” Rick said.
The man pulled at Tawny and knocked Pauline away. The contents of her handbag, including the gun, spilled out on the kitchen floor.
Tawny grabbed the gun. The albino backed off towards the back door.
“Just get out of here,” Tawny screamed through her tears.
“Now, hold on,” Rick said. “Let’s everybody calm down.” He motioned to Pauline. “Stay back.”
Tawny held the gun in both hands. “Get out,” she said to the albino.
Instead, he stepped closer.
“You’re not going to shoot that,” he said. “You haven’t got the guts.” He could see Tawny trembling. He quickly moved forward and snatched the gun out of her hands.
Holding the gun in his right hand, he grabbed Tawny with his left and pulled her to the door.
“Don’t move,” he said to Rick, pointing the gun at him.
“Let that girl go,” Rick said. He started to move forward.
He then watched in horror as he saw the albino pull the trigger three times. He heard nothing but clicks, no gunshot. The albino pulled the trigger three more times. Three more clicks.
In that instant, Rick recognized him. Of course, how many mobster albinos are there? It was the same guy. The same guy—an albino—had the room next to him years ago. Next to Rick’s wife. He knew it now. The man killed her.
Rick rushed toward the albino but the man threw Tawny in his way. Rick chased him out the back door. The albino ran around the side of the motel and bumped into Jed, almost knocking him down. Rick pushed past Jed and ran after the albino. Pauline followed. Then Jed.
George W. was a Dr. Pepper aficionado too. He was just taking a long sip when he saw an albino run around the corner of the motel with Rick in pursuit.
As the man ran past him, George W. put out his foot and the albino went sprawling. Rick pounced on him and started pounding him with his fists.
“Hey, boys,” George W. said, signaling to two secret service officers leaning on their black automotive equipment, “mind taking a look at this? Maybe get this under control.”
Within a few moments the secret service men had Rick and the albino separated. The albino tried to get away.
“Not so fast,” George W. said.
Pauline and Jed stood breathlessly next to him.
“He tried to shoot somebody,” Pauline said, pointing to the albino.
XIV
ROBERT
Robert was 17. His grandfather, Pop, someone he admired most in life, died the previous December. Pop ran the Yellow Lobster. It took a strange sense of humor to name a restaurant the Yellow Lobster, and that’s what Pop had. Robert’s grandmother decided she couldn’t run the place herself, so she moved back to Troy, in upstate New York, to live with Robert’s parents.
This was a bad July for Robert. The girl he had a crush on and whom he had called up about 10 times, without success, for a date, he discovered had a boyfriend. What an idiot he felt he was. He thought he was lucky they didn’t arrest him for stalking. He just had to get out of town. The Maine coast, where he usually went every summer, was a place he really loved, so he borrowed his father’s Corvette and headed there.
The first place he went was the Widow’s Walk on top of the Yellow Lobster. On a clear day you could see New Hampshire.
The Yellow Lobster stood on gigantic high rocks overlooking the coast. He used to come up on the Widow’s Walk with Pop and his telescope, to look for large ships heading for Boston, or a whale or an iceberg. But Robert now thought Pop must have been kidding him. Icebergs? Whales?
Robert was thinking about this when the trap door sprang open. Melissa appeared, screamed, and ran.
He figured he better go across the street to see her parents, just to let them know it was only him—that he was back and would be staying there for a while.
He actually got a kick out of seeing Melissa. She was always up to something, acting tough, selling sodas, and running her basketball tournaments.
Melissa was his younger sister Gloria’s friend. He kind of liked Melissa, but he had to face it, she was jail bait. Heck, practically every girl was jailbait to a 17 year old, except ones his own age or older. And they all seemed to ignore him.
He tried to catch Melissa to let her know who he was, but she just ran faster.
Now, Rick ran up the road to him.
“What’s going on?” Rick said. He was with a young
girl about Robert’s age. She was very, very sharp looking.
“I don’t know,” Robert said.
Rick and the girl crossed the road and went around the back of the motel. Robert figured Melissa must have run up to her room inside the motel, so he went in the front door.
“Robert!” Mrs. Adzu exclaimed.
She was behind the front desk of the motel office.
“Yeah. Hi, Mrs. Adzu. Say, I think I scared Melissa. She went running. I guess she didn’t know I was over there.”
“You’re back?”
“Yeah. Back for the summer. Do some work over there, I guess. Maybe get it ready to sell. I don’t know.”
“Come to dinner tonight.”
“Tonight? I don’t know.”
“What is that racket?” Mrs. Adzu said, turning around. “Is that Melissa’s radio?”
She now saw Rick through the side window of the office. He was chasing someone across the parking lot.
Robert turned. He heard voices out in front of the office. He went to look out the window near the front door. Then he went out the door.
Mrs. Adzu could tell something was going on. But before she could check on it, Melissa appeared at the bottom of the stairs, near the counter.
“How do I look?” she said.
“You look...you look....”
She was not sure what to say. “What are you doing with makeup on?”
“You like it? Is it too much?”
Her mother didn’t answer, but instead, edged towards the front of the office.
“Stay here, Melissa,” she said, and went to the front door.
“What?” Melissa said. “What’s happening?”
XV
Secret Service
Melissa’s mother went out the front door just in time to see Governor Bush’s father’s secret service men separating Rick from a tall albino man.
In a few minutes, Bob Sneed, a special agent for the secret service, said he’d have to go in the motel office to call the local police.
Melissa sat on the stairs while her mother stood by, silently, as Special Agent Sneed made the call.
The police were there in less than five minutes.
Melissa went out to see both Rick and the albino man lying on the ground with handcuffs on.
Robert and Pauline were also there.
Robert turned to Pauline and whispered, “What happened?”
“That albino guy...he tried to shoot Rick. The big black guy,” Pauline said.
Robert got closer to her. A secret service agent had his hand on his holster watching the two men on the ground. Governor Bush got in the back seat of his limo and he and his chauffeur drove off.
When Special Agent Sneed came out of the motel office, he looked around for a moment. He then said to Pauline, “O.K., where’s the gun?”
“It’s in the house,” she said. “I’ll show you.”
At this point Pauline wasn’t actually sure the gun was still in the kitchen. Looking around, she noticed Tawny was nowhere to be found.
Pauline walked Sneed around the back of the motel and went up to the back door.
At that moment, Melissa’s father arrived with a rake in his hand.
“What’s happening?” he said.
Sneed took his I.D. out of his jacket pocket and showed it to Mr. Adzu.
“Secret Service,” Sneed said. “Is this your place?”
“Yes,” Adzu said. “What’s happening?”
“This young lady says there’s a gun inside. We just need to check it out. Is it O.K.?”
“O.K.?” Adzu said. “Sure it’s O.K. There’s no gun in there.”
He opened the back door and went into the kitchen. Sneed and Pauline followed. To Mr. Adzu’s surprise, he saw a handgun lying on the floor near the back door of the kitchen. The kitchen table was pushed back against a wall. One chair was knocked over.
Things were in disarray.
“Stand back over there.” Sneed said to Pauline and Mr. Adzu, motioning for them to stand near the sink, away from the gun.
“Anybody shot?” Sneed said to Pauline.
“No.”
“Anybody hurt?”
“I don’t know,” Pauline said. “Maybe not.”
“O.K.,” Sneed said to Mr. Adzu. “Got any paper towels?”
“Sure,” he said, and turned to get a roll.
Sneed put a pen in the barrel of the gun, picked it up, and wrapped it gingerly in the paper towel.
“You’ll have to wait for the local police to get here,” Sneed said to Pauline.
He led her out of the kitchen. As they walked around the back of the motel they heard sirens.
Two police cars from the Ogunquit Town Police Department arrived.
A large uniformed police officer jumped out of his car and headed over to the men handcuffed on the ground. The policeman was sandy haired, about 6’3”, 300 pounds.
“What’s up?” he said to the secret service agent watching the men.
“He killed my wife,” they heard Rick blurt out.
“What do you mean he killed your wife?” the Ogunquit officer said.
“I never killed nobody. I want a lawyer,” the albino said.
“Some young girl said that albino guy tried to shoot this black guy,” the secret service agent said to the policeman.
“There she is now,” he said, as Pauline and Sneed rounded the corner of the motel office.
XVI
Ogunquit Police
Rick was sitting at Detective Ron Blair’s desk inside the Ogunquit Police Station.
“I heard this scream,” Rick said. “I knew it was Melissa, my niece. I got worried and went up the hill and saw her running across the road. I was with this girl. Or, actually, I wasn’t with this girl. She was just there, and followed me. I don’t know why. Then I went into the motel, the back of the motel, the apartment. I’m thinking now the girl must have known Melissa, maybe was a friend of hers or something, anyway, I get inside the kitchen and this girl...wait a minute. Then this other person....”
“What other person?” Blair said.
“I don’t know. Never seen her before. She starts saying, ‘Help me, help me,’ to this girl and then this albino guy comes in....”
Melissa watched Pauline being put in a police car. Then she was driven away. The albino went in the other police car.
Melissa started pacing the floor of the motel office. She heard her parents talking and went into the kitchen.
Her mother sat at the table and her father leaned against the counter.
“They said this guy,” her father told her mother, “an albino guy, pointed a gun at Rick and pulled the trigger.”
“Oh, no!” Melissa’s mother exclaimed.
“They found the gun in the kitchen.”
“What kitchen?”
“Our kitchen.”
“Our kitchen?”
“They said some girl dropped it. The girl they took away.” Mr. Adzu turned to Melissa. “Who was that? Do you know that girl?”
“Know her?”
She stalled for time. “Let me think. Hold on.”
She went out the front door of the office and walked over to the soda machine. She was thirsty. Then she saw her bike. She decided she better get some answers herself, before people started asking more questions she didn’t want to answer.
She headed out for the Ogunquit Police Station.
XVII
What Happened To Susan
“Melissa! Hi,” Officer Dooley said when she got to the Police Station. “What’s up?”
“Can I talk to them?” she said.
“They’re busy,” he said. “Have a seat.”
Melissa sat on a wooden bench in the front of the Police Station.
She could see Rick sitting at one desk. Pauline was at another. They were there for about an hour. Two policemen typed up papers. She didn’t see the albino.
Finally she saw Rick make a phone call and he and Pauline came out to where she was.
“What’s going on?” Melissa said to Rick.
“He’s under arrest. He has some murder charges from the Combat Zone in Boston. A couple of murder charges. He jumped bail.”
Pauline was looking at some papers in her hands.
“What’s that?” Melissa said.
“I got these tickets,” Pauline said. “One says carrying a concealed weapon.”
“Oh, brother,” Melissa said.
“Your dad is coming to pick us up,” Rick said.
In a few minutes Melissa’s father arrived. “You’ll have to ride your bike back,” he said to her. Rick and Pauline got in the car and they drove off.
When Melissa got back to the motel, Rick was just leaving the office.
She went inside and saw her father at the front desk.
“What happened, Dad?”
“Rick thinks that albino guy killed Susan. Your Mother is not taking it too well. Maybe you should go in and see her.”
Melissa found her Mother in the kitchen, sitting at the table, crying quietly, with a balled up tissue in her hand.
“Is it true?” Melissa said.
“I don’t know, honey. We’ll just wait and see.”
Melissa stared out the window, looking at the pool. She knew her mother didn’t want to talk.
“I’ll get the chairs,” Melissa said. “Looks like a storm.”
Looking out the window, she saw it was overcast. The wind was throwing a light mist around. She decided to stack up the chairs before they blew all over the place. She went out the back door and headed for the pool.
Melissa felt just a tinge of relief in finding an answer to her sister’s death. It took some feelings of guilt away. She always wondered if there was something she could have done differently.
It got more windy, cold and rainy, so she went up to her room. From her window, she looked out at the Yellow Lobster. She didn’t know what to think. At about 7 p.m. the sky cleared and the sun came out. She heard her Mother call for her downstairs.
Melissa decided that she had to talk to Pauline.
To see how she was.
“Later, Mom,” she said, and rushed past her Mother on her way out the back door.
Pauline heard a knock on her door. She pulled the curtains back. It was Melissa. She opened the door.
“Come on in.”
“What are you going to do?” Melissa said.
“I’ll have to call my agent. Just putting it off as long as I can before I get back into all that.”
“Your agent?”
“Well, yeah, Bobbie. Sorry, Melissa. I wasn’t straight with you. I’ve got an agent, a job, whatever, in Hollywood.”
“Yeah,” Melissa said, looking around. “Hey, I’m starving. Want to go out someplace?”
XVIII
The Whale Country Club
“Want to go to The Whale?” Melissa said to Pauline.
“What’s The Whale?”
“It’s a miniature golf place. They have food. It’s great. Right next door.”
“O.K. Let’s go.”
It was a two or three minute walk to The Whale Miniature Golf and Snack Bar.
Melissa and Pauline went up to the counter. “Maybe after we eat we’ll do nine,” Melissa said.
“Nine? Nine what?”
“Nine holes. Miniature golf.”
“Oh. Miniature golf,” Pauline said, leaning to her right to look over the course. In the middle of nine green fairways, fake ponds and storybook figurines, was a gigantic blue plaster whale, advertising the location.
“Yeah, maybe,” Pauline said. “Let’s get something toeat first.”
In the back of her mind Pauline thought of all theFancy restaurants in L.A. and Beverly Hills she had eaten at. Now, at a picnic table garishly lit up by a yellow fluorescent bug zapper, at a snack bar in Maine, it looked like she’d be dining alfresco.
“Hey, Snarky!” Melissa yelled into the vacant snack bar.
In a moment they saw Snarky, a 16 year-old local resident, nephew of the owner of The Whale. He came out of the back. He had been busy lining up the putters and counting the golf balls in the starter area of the Miniature Golf Course. All the kids in the area needled him about working in the “pro shop”, as if he was on a real golf course.
“We’re starving out here,” Melissa said. “Got any fried clams?”
Snarky put on an apron and looked in the freezer. “Think so, Melissa,” he said.
“Get the fried clams,” she said to Pauline.
Melissa saw that Pauline seemed a little down. She figured she might try to cheer her up. In the process, she thought she might brighten herself up.
She couldn’t stand thinking of the albino, her sister, and the whole thing. She just had to get away from the motel. Had to do something. Keep busy. Just to get her mind off it.
Pauline sensed that Melissa must have been almost as stressed out as she was. She had to smile at her grit.
“Sure. Fried clams it is. I hope they got tartar sauce.”
“Best tartar sauce this side of...this side of...the Mississippi.”
They were finishing up their fried clams when Melissa saw Robert walking up the path to the snack bar.
“Oh, wow!” she said. “Here comes Robert.”
She quickly wiped her face with a napkin.
“How do I look?” she said to Pauline. “Anything in my teeth?”
Pauline looked closely as Melissa bent down and gave a toothy grin.
“Looks O.K.,” Pauline said.
As Robert walked by he stopped at their table. “Everything O.K.?” he said to Melissa.
“Oh, yes,” Melissa said. She had a little squeak in her voice. She had to take a sip from her straw.
“Just getting something to eat,” Robert said, looking at the snack bar and then at Snarky, who was now sitting with Melissa and Pauline.
“Sure,” Snarky said. He got up and headed for the snack bar.
Robert went over to the window and ordered.
“I think I could use some French fries,” Melissa said. “Want some?”
“No, I’m good,” Pauline said.
Melissa went over and ordered French fries. She was a little disappointed when Snarky said; “I’ll bring them over when they’re ready.”
She had no reason to hang out near the window to see if Robert would talk to her.
“What’s the matter?” Pauline said.
Melissa was unusually quiet, glancing over at the snack bar window.
“I don’t know if I have the guts to ask him over.”
“You know him, don’t you?”
“Well, kind of.”
“Ask him.”
Melissa now saw Robert getting his soda and hot dogs.
“Come on over,” Melissa blurted out. “Sit with us.”
Robert looked over and eyed Pauline—probably the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.
He walked over slowly with his tiny paper tray in his hand and sat down next to Melissa, just so he could look straight at Pauline.
Snarky brought over the French fries and sat down himself.
“What,” Melissa said to Robert, “are you ...uh, doing here at the coast? Maine. Here, I mean.”
“Just checking things out,” he said. “Thinking of opening the restaurant. For breakfast and lunch.”
“You’re kidding? The Yellow Lobster?”
“Yeah,” he said. ”Why not?”
“Right,” she said. “Why not?”
“I think I have to hire some people. Like a waitress or something,”
“I could be a waitress,” Melissa said.
“Gee, I never thought of that. Maybe you could.”
He looked off in the distance, thinking. He took a sip from his soda. “I couldn’t pay much.”
“Well, I know that,” Melissa said.
“I’d have to cook.”
“You know how to cook?” Snarky said.
“Well, I can make scrambled eggs and sandwiches.”
“You’d need a license,” Snarky added.
“I think we’ve got an old license.”
Melissa and Pauline looked at each other. Snarky nodded.
“Yeah,” Robert said. I think it could be done.”
That night Pauline and Melissa talked for hours in Pauline’s room. They tried on makeup, painted their toenails, and read movie scripts. They laughed, listened to the radio and talked about Robert, Pauline’s T.V. show, and how much she hated taking orders from a thousand people, getting up early, working long hours, feeling like she was in jail. Melissa talked about her sister, her mother, her father threatening to go to the jail to kill the albino somehow, and Robert and his restaurant. They both agreed they just wanted a simple life, with a little excitement thrown in, but nothing like what they’d seen recently.
Melissa went home late but had a hard time getting to sleep. She woke up a few times and just couldn’t get things out of her head. She got up early and went out to the pool. She worked the surface with the bug skimmer.
She saw Pauline walking up the road.
Melissa waved and Pauline came over.
“I can’t believe it,” she said. “I totally forgot about my car. It just dawned on me this morning. They towed it away. Towed it!”
“How do you know?”
“The guy in the diner. He saw them.”
“Oh, yeah. It must be Rich. Richey-Rip-Off. He tows all the cars for the police. It’ll be big bucks.”
“Where is it?”
“No problem. I’ll get you a bike. We’ll ride down there.”
Pauline went to get her purse and Melissa got two three-speed bikes.
They headed out for Richey’s near the police station. It was only 10 minutes away.
When they got there, Richey was in his grimy office, listening to a police scanner. He told them it was $75.
Pauline paid him the money and she and Melissa followed him out of the office to go unlock the gate. Suddenly, Pauline’s parents appeared.
They jumped out of their rental car, ran over and started hugging her.
“You’re O.K.! Honey, we were so worried,” her mother said.
“Pauline! Why? Why didn’t you let us know?” Her father said.
This went on for a few minutes. Melissa felt she had to leave. She rode away on her bike.
Later that day the rental car pulled up at the C-Nick motel. Melissa was shooting foul shots.
Pauline got the bike out of the trunk and walked it over to Melissa.
“I guess I’m going,” Pauline said.
“O.K.,” Melissa said.
She ran over to her bag lying near the basketball hoop and pulled out a pen and a scrap of paper.
“Here,” she said, scribbling something down. “Here’s my number.”
Pauline looked at it for a second and jammed it in a pocket of her shorts. “Come to L.A.,” she said. “Really. I’ll pay for the flight.”
“No kidding?”
Melissa brightened up.
“Yeah, sure,” Pauline said. “Anytime.”
They could hear Pauline’s parents calling for her.
“Well, yeah,” Melissa said. “And anytime you’re in Maine, stay here.”
“Yeah,” Pauline said.
In a few moments she was gone.
XIX
Back To The Soda Machine
Melissa watched Pauline drive away. Like so many other guests, Melissa figured she’d never talk to her again.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw someone at the soda machine.
It was a boy. No, wait, maybe a young man. Was the soda machine full? What if he wanted a 7-Up and there wasn’t one there?
Yes. That’s what she had to do. She had forgotten about the soda machine. It might be half-empty. She quickly strolled over to the machine.
She saw some people unloading their car and figured he must have just got there. How old was he? He seemed to be about 15. He was looking over the selections.
“See what you want?” she said. “I mean, is it there?”
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