Free The Proud and the Prejudiced by Colette L. Saucier Page B

Alice asked them. “Have
you been dancing?”
    “Yeah,” Jack said. “The DJ is good. All eighties
dance music, as you’d expect.”
    “You missed ‘Holiday,’” Giselle told her.
    Alice shrugged. “That’s not one of my favorites.
I’ll wait until ‘Get Into the Groove’ or ‘Like a Prayer.’”
    “So I hear you’re quite the Madonna fan,” Jack
said
    She shook her head then ordered a Jack Daniels
& ginger ale from the bartender. “My mother – huge Madonna fan. I
guess I kind of inherited it from her. I uh…” The bartender handed her a
plastic cup full of ice with a splash of tan liquid. She focused on her drink
as tiny prickles of emotion moved up the back of her nose to behind her eyes. “It,
uh, makes me feel close to her. Funny how even happy memories can make you feel
sad.”
    Jack ran his hand up and down her arm, and she
glanced up to see him frowning. “I’m sorry, Alice.”
    She forced a smile on her face and shook her head
before tears could gather in her eyes. “No, I’m fine!” She drank down the
contents of her drink, which amounted to about three tablespoons. “I am just
ready for a few more of these and a song I can dance to.”
    Perhaps it was kismet, or maybe the spirit of her
mother intervened, but as Alice finished her second drink, the opening strains
of “Like a Prayer” began, and all four of them squealed with wide-eyes as if
they’d just won a trifecta, and they ran out onto the dance floor. They jumped
up and down, shaking their hips and clapping during the refrains, she and
Eileen leaning against each other singing, “I’m down on my knees” through their
grins; then they lofted their arms above their heads, waving them through the
foggy air with the precision of ballet dancers during the slow verses.
    This segued into the Eurythmics “Missionary Man,”
and Alice danced with wild abandon, knowing she couldn’t dance worth a damn but
not giving a shit. Then she caught a glimpse of Peter, sitting alone – Where
had Winnie run off to? Gone to powder her nose? – in the booth
watching them.
    She screamed in Eileen’s ear. “Why did he even
come if he’s just going to sit there and pout all night? He’s just here to draw
attention to himself and make the rest of us feel uncomfortable.”
    “Who?”
    “Who do you think? Peter.” She motioned in his
direction with a subtle jerk of her head.
    “What do you care, right? Just ignore him. He’s
not even bothering you.”
    Maybe that’s what was bothering her. No! No,
no, no, no, no, no, no! “He’s sitting there just watching us.”
    With a playful glint in her eye – or maybe it was
just the mirrored ball overhead – Eileen ran her tongue over her teeth. “Maybe
he likes to watch.”
    Alice gaped at her and grinned then slapped her
upper arm. “You naughty, naughty girl!”
    “Ouch!” Eileen rubbed her arm. “For what it’s
worth, Giselle said he’s staying in the booth so he won’t draw attention
to himself. There are enough people here not from the show that he’d probably
be swarmed with gawkers taking pictures of him with their cell phones.”
    “Then I wonder why he came at all, if just to be
miserable.” Rick Astley’s voice droned through the speakers. “Ugh. I hate this
song. I’m going to go to the bathroom then get another drink. Can I get you
something?”
    Eileen shook her head, and Alice scootched her way
through the crowded dance floor – Really? For Rick Astley? – and went to
the ladies room before heading toward the bar.
    Peter got to the bar just as she did. “Can I buy
you a drink?”
    “It’s ladies night. My drinks are free.”
    His eyes wandered over her Culture Club t-shirt
and jeans then back up to her face where they remained. “I thought you said you
were going to dress like Madonna.”
    “Jack and ginger,” she said to the bartender. “I
said I might . I couldn’t find my rosaries. Misplaced after years of disuse.”
    “You, sir?” asked the