OCR Text |
Show Woodworth/50 rid of the two in the bar. If he asks to go home with her, what can she say? I live with my parents. With ^ummie and Daddy. She feels a twitch deep in her abdomen. He's not bad looking. Thinner than she is, her arms would probably wrap around him, and she'd end up slapping herself in the face. His place? She pictures the roof top, naked under the stars, and then the fireplace, the soft rug. She notices the glint from his wedding ring. It may be an heirloom. Anyway, he hasn't really made a pass yet. Maybe she's been too forward. Should have moved away when he sat down next to her. Can he tell what she wants from him? "You guys want to go for a beer?" Dave asks. "Tarty sees Rachael nod slightly. "Sure," she says. They return sneakers, score sheets. Gary pays for the games. Outside, a cloud has settled on Kenmore Square, a light drizzle turns the neon reflections to puddles. , '"^y goodness, my hair will frizz," Rachael squeals, patting her head. Gary and Dave both laugh, looking at Rachael's frizzy hair, and Marty tries to think of something funny she can say. Rachael drops back a step, and smiles, crookedly, at Marty. Low, by her hip, she gives Marty a thumbs up sign. Marty smiles back at her. She wishes she had Rachael's casual bravado. And enjoys being around her. Dave suggests Lucifer's. "It's disco," Gary tells him. Instead, they go into a small dark bar that smells of beer and piss and cigarette smoke, of hamburger grease and hardened ketchup; a legacy of a thousand baseball fans who stop in when going or comi^g^J^em -flgnwayPark. The room is crowded, and they lean |