Free The Darkness Rolling by Win Blevins

love song.
    She emerged, a vision of splendor. My breath caught for a moment. She gave Julius her imperious look. “Call my agent,” she told him. “Tell him I have to stay in this lovely hotel another day. I need the rest. He can fix it with the studio.”
    Julius waggled his stogie up and down once and headed for the front desk, which seemed to mean yes.
    She took my arm and let me escort her to the restaurant. When I gave my coffee order, I waited to see if she’d ask for a margarita for breakfast. “A Bloody Mary, please,” she said, “with plenty of Tabasco.”
    She beamed at me. “Now that we’re friends,” she said, “tell me about a good time you had in Southern California.”
    I was tongue-tied. She waited. No help in sight. I dived in.
    “Uh, two navy buddies and I went to The Pike in Long Beach.” Everyone had heard of the place, an extravaganza of an amusement park made famous by the 1904 World’s Fair. I spun out short tales, well embroidered as stories should be. The first was about the majestic rise and fall of the Ferris wheel. Gaining confidence, I flew into the wild ride on the roller coaster. I paraded out the laughs of the fun house, horsing around in the penny arcades, and the strangeness of the Laughing Lady. Finally I jumped into my excitement about the Diving Bell.
    I stopped and waited.
    She shrugged her shoulders and studied her placemat. Seemed like I’d just gotten a C on a test.
    “My turn. My husband,” she said, “is a good man. He photographed a couple of early movies of mine. We’re friends. But that’s all we are, friends. Well, more like father-daughter.”
    She let that one sit. It was uncomfortable.
    “There’s a man I’m dating, but he—”
    She stopped short and changed direction. Talking to her was like watching a complicated bank shot on a pool table. Quick left, sharp angled right, straight back at you, and rolling to a stop nowhere in particular.
    She launched. “Tell me, while you were in the navy, what was the best lay you had?”
    I almost jumped out of my skin. I studied her eyes. Though they were playful, she wanted something real, and I didn’t know what.
    So, roll the dice and see.
    I talked unsteady, like a drunk. “When you’re shore patrol, you end up in bars, usually to break up fights. But what the sailors, and the women, go to bars for is—”
    She mimed pulling with her hands, like, Give. Out with it.
    “So, one time we straightened out a little ruckus and got the guys headed for the door, meaning we herded them to their ship.
    “A pair of women sat at a round table toward the front, holding drinks. As I passed, baton swinging from my wrist, one of them said, ‘What time are you off duty, sailor?’
    “I said, ‘After everyone else is asleep.’”
    “Tell me what she looked like,” said Linda. The cue ball banks again.
    “She was attractive. Thirtyish, auburn hair cut short, nice, willowy figure.”
    I hesitated. “So she sticks out a piece of paper, and I take it. A phone number and also a name. Annie.”
    “She says, ‘Call me between nine and ten in the morning.’”
    I looked at Linda, carved the tablecloth with my fingernail. “I’d never even used a pay phone.”
    She laughed out loud.
    “I wasn’t used to women acting like that. After a minute I nodded yes. And left.”
    I paused.
    “Go on, get to the good part.”
    “At five after nine I called and said, ‘It’s your sailor. From last night.’
    “‘Come on over,’ she said, and recited an address.”
    “Good, tell me what she was like. Exactly what she was like.”
    “She opened the door wearing one of those fuzzy robes that look like a towel. She took my hand, gave me one glance, and led me around the house. When we got to the kitchen, she actually asked me if I wanted an egg-salad sandwich. I said I’d pass.”
    “Oddball thing to say.”
    “That’s what I thought. Then she got all embarrassed, covered her mouth with one hand, and with the other led me