stories, any more than he had six months ago, before he was a singing rage; but now he was accepted as an expert on all things theater, and everyone was impressed by his erudite comments. Joe had been impressed too, when he heard the same words he just mouthed, coming from Sonny Jones, the comic, whom heâd met at his agentâs office. Sonny, in turn, may have heard them from someone else.
Tommy, still defending his own opinion maintained that his brother had seen the picture and it was pretty good. Tommy was sitting at the adjacent right side of Joe, at which point Joe swung his head slowly toward the right, tilting it slightly downward, his eyes closed. His head turned past Tommyâs position and stopped, a distressed smirk was on his mouth. This was intended to completely dismiss Tommyâs idea as ridiculous. Joe opened his eyes, looked at Tommy from the left corner of his eyes and with an uplifted eyebrow and slightly nodding head, said, âAre you trying to tell me now, what a good picture is? I saw it. But you guys go, youâll probably like itâ.
Tommy was cast down. He looked sheepishly to Joe and said, âI donât want to argue with you, Joe, but my brother liked it. Maybe Iâm wrong. Well, what else is there to see, hunh?â
It was forgotten; Joe was right as he turned smugly back toward the center of the group. Wasnât he in on the know?
The darkened road that stretched before the speeding Jaguar was now lit by the lights indicating the guardsâ gate at the entrance to the private beach. Joe slowed down and flashed a membership card. The guard waved him to enter.
âThis is a fancy private place, but a friend of my agentâs gave me his pass. Pretty cool, hanh?â
âYes, Iâve never been here before. Whatâs it called?â, asked Lyn.
âPoint Sandsâ.
Lyn sat contentedly viewing the darkened bungalows they passed on their way to the beach. She was still engrossed in the wonderful feeling that overcame her because she was with Joe. She had always liked Joe. He had always been a friend to her, and she to him, even when all others had held him with contempt because he made no money, but only sang; she always cherished his friendship.
Lyn was not an exceptionally beautiful girl, as a matter of fact, the guys in the neighborhood would be moved to call her a nothing, as would Joe, but tonight he felt like going to the beach, and no one else was about, so he asked Lyn. Besides, she probably would go down easier than the other girls because she was a nothing. How could she resist me, he thought to himself. He wasnât in the mood to have to work his points. He wanted someone, not an argument, ⦠and Lyn, well, Lyn would do just fine. He pulled the sun visor down, and fixed his hair with the aid of the mirror attached to the underside.
âWatch the car, Joeâ, screamed Lyn.
âRelax babyâ, he said as he jerked the car back into its proper lane, ânothing to worry about. Iâve got everything under controlâ. He pushed the mirror back up and slid his arm over Lynâs shoulder, pulling her gently yet firmly closer to himself. She slid next to him eagerly. She was thinking how wonderful it would be if Joeâs interest in her were sincere. She thought she loved him; at any rate, she liked him an awful lot.
The car crunched to a stop on the graveled driveway. Joe turned off the engine, cut the lights, and turned to Lyn.
âShall we get going?â, he asked.
âMmmhmmmâ.
They got out and made their way down the beach, over the sand still warm from the heat of the day. The moon in the sky was full, throwing a silvered effect over the small drifting clouds near it. A thin V of light cut its way to the shore over the rippling water.
How romantic , thought Lyn.
Too much frigginâ light , thought Joe, somebodyâs liable to come along and see us .
They reached the shore, and Joe spread