Free Dawn of a New Day by Gilbert Morris Page B

on,” he said. “I guess your folks are up waiting on you.”
    â€œI know they are,” Prue said. She had regained her composure now and added, “Mark, thanks for coming after me.”
    â€œSure. That’s okay.”
    â€œI–I guess I owe you an explanation. You heard about Mr. Spender deciding not to let me be in the play?”
    Mark swirled in the seat. “What do you mean? I didn’t hear anything about that!”
    For an instant Prue thought of telling him that it was Debbie Peters’ idea, but she had no evidence, so she said, “I felt so bad, like I’d been cut off at the knees, and then when Leon asked me to go out, I guess I just was so desperate I accepted. It was awful! Everybody was drinking, and there are rooms there that couples kept going off into. I begged Leon to take me home, but he was drunk. He started to drag me into one of those rooms, and I tore away from him and ran out the front door. He chased me, but he stumbled, and I disappeared into the woods, and then I came out down the highway and walked to the Texaco station, and that’s when I called you.”
    She broke off suddenly, and Mark saw that she was crying again. He put his arms around her and held her close for a minute. “Look, we all make mistakes. You made one, so go in and tell your folks all about it. I hope your dad doesn’t punch Leon out.”
    â€œYou do? I thought you might like that.”
    â€œNo, I’m planning to do it myself,” he said.
    â€œOh, please, Mark! Don’t do that!” Turning her face to him, Prue touched his chest, and then she whispered, “I don’t know what I would have done if it hadn’t been for you. I was so afraid.”
    She was soft against his chest, and her tearstained face was blurry in the moonlight. He did see her lips were trembling, and as he had done once before, he bent his head, meaning to give her a friendly kiss. It did not turn into that though. Her lips were soft under his, and vulnerable, and for a long moment he held her, and then she broke away. Her voice was thick as she whispered, “Mark, I’ve got to go in.” She left and went up the walk, wiping her face on a Kleenex as she went. She turned back and waved at Mark, then took a deep breath, and stepped inside the house.
    The next half hour was as bad as anything Prudence had known. She was very honest with her parents, as she always had been. She explained how hurt she had been by being cut from the play, and how she had made a foolish decision. She saw the anger in her father’s eyes and the muscles of his shoulders bunched up, but she went to him and said, “Please, Daddy. I know you want to go beat him up, but that would just make things worse.” She took a deep breath and shook her head. “You don’t have to worry about him anymore. I hope I never see him again, or anybody like him!”

5
T HE B IG T IME
    H ey! You can’t come in here!” Ossie Peabody, the drummer of Bobby’s band, was well-built, but he had no chance against the burly man who simply pushed the door open and brushed him aside. Ossie made an angry noise, which caused Bobby Stuart to turn around and say, “That’s all right, Ossie. Take it easy.” He was exhausted after a tiring concert. It had gone on for more than four hours, and he had given it everything he had. Bobby was accustomed to backstage visitors, but usually they were fifteen- or sixteen-year-old teenyboppers.
    The man who entered the room looked like a truck driver. He was short, muscular, and had hands like hams. His smallish brown eyes were deep set and were regarding him carefully. For a moment fear touched Bobby, for he was not yet clear on the charges he had incurred back in Arkansas. The girl’s parents, whatever her name was, were pressing it, and Bobby had paid a mint to lawyers. This man looked like a policeman, or maybe a process server.