I won’t be rude. I offer my hand. His skin is clammy, despite the redness of his cheeks from being outside.
“The name is Clyde,” he says. “Clyde Barrow. I’ve been wanting to officially meet you for some time now.”
“Bonnelyn,” I respond.
My gaze slides to his eyes. And, in those deep, hazel eyes, I could lose myself. I could forget that I am Bonnelyn Parker from some no-name town. That, right there, scares the dickens out of me. I try to pull back, but his grip is firm.
“Bonnelyn,” he repeats. “Well, that name ain’t pretty enough for the likes of you. I reckon Bonnie suits you better.”
Bonnie.
He nods, seeming satisfied. Then Clyde bends, smiling up at me as he presses his chilled lips to my hand. “Hi, Bonnie.”
“Hi,” I say, weakly.
I breathe him in, recognizing the scent of gasoline. He’s younger than I imagined, no more than nineteen or twenty, but he’s matured, like a man should be. It’s an impression I get, not only from his dark, slicked-back hair but also how he walked in here, like he knew where he was going. He doesn’t wear a suit like Buck. His baggier trousers and plain white tee give him a look all his own. A handsome, carefree one.
“Why’re you staring at her like that?” Blanche asks Clyde.
My hand is still in his hand, the spot he kissed still feeling cold from his lips.
“I’m trying to catch the breath Bonnie took away,” he says.
Buck laughs boisterously and smacks his brother on the back. “Clyde fancies himself a poet.”
Or somebody who’s had plenty of time feeding lines to girls.
“Well, don’t scare Bonn off,” Blanche says, stealing my hand from Clyde’s. “We’re going to get our dresses and faces on. You two boys, behave yourselves.”
Blanche pulls me ’cross the living room, and I take another peek at Clyde, when he’s not looking. He runs a hand over his dark hair, dimples framing a wide grin. His eyes jump to me again, and somehow that smile grows larger. Somehow, the butterflies in my stomach flutter faster.
Blanche presses the bathroom door closed behind us. She turns to me with a serious expression. “Sorry ’bout how intense Clyde was. You’re not going to run away, are you? I don’t think you’ll fit through the window. Even if you did, we’re three stories up.”
“I’m fine,” I say, just as serious, and casually sit atop the toilet lid. But, inside, I feel upside down, attracted to someone who ain’t good for me—a road I’ve stumbled down before.
“You’re lying,” Blanche says with a hand on her hip. “But look, I ain’t asking you to marry him, just dance with him. And I’ll be there the whole time. It’d mean a lot—to him, I mean. That boy’s been waiting to meet you for ages.”
My head perks up.
“And you’ve been wanting to meet him, too!”
“Shh,” I say. “Keep your voice down. That ain’t true.” But could it be, even if only a little?
She laughs louder.
“Blanche,” I say between my teeth.
“Okay, okay,” she whispers. “But how ’bout getting to know him before ya write him off? You ended up liking Buck just fine. Now”—she holds up two dresses for herself—“red or black?”
“Black,” I say, wanting to be the only one in red tonight—a thought that almost has me changing my mind and having Blanche put her other dress on.
Over the next hour, we primp and ready ourselves for the night ahead. Clyde’s and Buck’s voices float through the wall, here and there. Sometimes their voices sound serious, and other times as if their ages have regressed ten years.
“They better not break anything,” Blanche says, and rolls her eyes. “I just bought that new coffee table.”
“Do you live here now?” I ask, realizing I should already know this, as her best friend.
“In the bathroom?”
I shake my head at her.
“Yeah, I mean, you know I’ve been staying here most nights, but now I help Buck with the rent and all. My pa’s got a new girl, who hasn’t taken a liking to me. Besides, I’d rather live here.” She shrugs and reaches for her bright red lipstick.
I lightly touch her arm. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I mean, what can I do? Pa’s always been more interested in his law firm than in me. Makes sense a new girl would eat up more of his time. Honestly, I doubt he’d notice if I disappeared for real. Only reason why he wanted me to start paying my own way or find a man is so that he could wipe his hands free of me.” She pauses. “Like mother, like father?”
“That’s not true, Blanche.”
“It is.” She studies herself in the mirror with an unreadable expression. “But it’s something I accepted awhile ago.” She turns to me. “But enough ’bout my pa and his women. Let’s get our dancing shoes on.”
I bite my lip. Blanche can be hard to read. But she wiggles her fingers, and I hand Blanche her pair, slipping on my own.
“Well, look at us,” Blanche says. “We’re the most bonny lasses this world has ever seen.”
When we stroll out into the living room, it’s clear the boys believe it, too. Buck whistles, and Clyde’s lips part ever so slightly.
I fidget with my crochet hat, making sure it’s straight though I just checked it in the mirror.
“You lassies look great,” Buck says enthusiastically, then sweeps Blanche up in his arms. She squeals and yells at him not to muss her hair.
Clyde and I stand opposite each other, awkwardly. I scratch my collarbone, pull on my stud earring.
“You look nice,” Clyde says.
“Thank you. You look nice, too.”
He smoothes his plain white tee and, like before, I notice the three letters inked on his upper arm. USN. “I reckon I’m a bit underdressed. These juice joints ain’t my thing.”
“Oh?” I respond, distracted by what those letters could mean.
“Too many people all in one spot.” He shudders, as if someone runs a feather down his spine.
I may not agree with him—I love the energy and crowd at Doc’s—but I smile at his animated reaction.
Blanche skips back to us. “We better hurry. Mary wanted to start the dance marathon promptly at five.”
We descend the steps to Doc’s, and anticipation for the music’s upbeat tempo courses through me. Blanche flings open the door, and my jaw drops at the amount of people who’ve showed up, and at such short notice.
“How did everyone get in here without causing a scene?” I ask, leaning close to Blanche so she can hear me over the roar of the crowd, a crowd that’s got all of Clyde’s weight on his heels.
“Didn’t you see the sign out front, for a free health exam?”
I laugh. “Mary thinks of everything.”
She spots us, waves us in, then hops up onstage in front of a band. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Doc’s very first dance marathon.”