Josh was the second member of the band to make his move. He had already had several drinks, and his words were slurred. “Who do we have ’ere?” he asked, barely understandable through his drunken speech and heavy accent.
Alex stepped up behind Peter to peer over his shoulder and gave the girls a rather dark glance, then extended his hand immediately to Frankie. “You’re Frankie Robinson, aren’t you?” he asked, shoving Josh out of the way. His action was clear to all the men in view—Frankie was off-limits; she was marked territory.
Josh stumbled, spilling a bit of his drink. “Watch it, buddy,” he said, cupping his hand over his glass.
It was all comical to Frankie, these young men fawning over her and her friends. For such famous young men, they were acting like a bunch of stooges. It made her laugh to think that just a few minutes ago in the car, she and her girlfriends had been scheming over which one of them to pursue.
Frankie was not the type of girl to choose a guy by how great his picture looked on an album cover.
I mean, what is a picture anyway?
she thought.
It’s just a picture—a moment in time—and, more often than not, unnaturally posed.
But when she glanced up at Alex, she realized she would have never recognized him in person, had it not been for the band’s comedic introductions. What she didn’t expect, however, were the shivers that went up her spine when Alex shook her hand. He wasn’t nearly as cute and polished as his image portrayed—much more rugged-looking and rough around the edges. Far away from the cameras, Alex displayed a darker, more dangerous personality that certainly piqued Frankie’s interest.
“Yes, I’m Frankie Robinson. I am me and no one else,” she said, shaking his hand. “How did you know?”
“I saw you on television last year,” he said.
“You remembered me from last year?” she asked incredulously.
Alex lit a cigarette and took a drag. “You were very good and very pretty,” he said. “Didn’t you win an award for that show?”
Frankie’s eyes widened, shocked. “Most Promising Newcomer,” she said. “I haven’t actually done anything yet; apparently I just have promise.”
“You will,” Alex said, taking a drag on his cigarette. Normally girls were falling all over him and his words; with Frankie he didn’t know what to say or do.
“Do you want to dance,” asked Frankie, “or would you prefer to just stand here?”
Alex laughed and said, “I guess I would prefer to dance.” He held his hand out to her. She grasped it and allowed him to guide her into the crowd of dancers.
“Johnny B. Goode” was spinning on the record player as Alex found an open space on the dance floor and turned to face Frankie. Frankie had always felt confident dancing before strangers—it was her best method of self-expression—but standing before Alex, she couldn’t help feeling like a novice with two left feet. Looking at Alex, she noticed he was feeling the same way. She saw him move much better in performances; now, he looked as awkward as she felt.
“Loosen up a little bit,” she said, playfully punching his chest.
Alex grabbed Frankie around her waist and moved a little faster to the music.
“See? There it is. I knew it—you have a dancer’s soul,” she said.
“Yeah, I was thinking I should give up the gee-tar and take up the ba-LET,” he said, gazing down at her. “What do you think?”
Frankie laughed and answered, “It would be interesting to see you in a tutu.”
“I never show a girl my tutu on the first date,” he responded, roughly spinning her around.
Frankie spun around fast and then purposely slammed hard up against him. “Somehow I doubt that. I think you and your tutu have made quite a few debut performances.”
As Alex began dancing slower, feelings ran through Frankie’s body that she wasn’t quite ready for. She had just met him not ten minutes ago, so to offer any suggestions would be rather dangerous. The moment was a little too intense in a room full of dancing, sweaty bodies. She pulled back from him a bit to give herself some distance. As soon as she did, the lights in the room went out, and everyone was left in darkness.
Hoots and hollers erupted from the darkness as “Under the Boardwalk” by the Drifters began to play. Alex pulled Frankie closer to him and held her tightly, just short of pressing too far. Alex had the play down to a science. He instinctively knew the exact limit to stir Frankie up without scaring her away. Frankie had experienced everything from men who couldn’t entice any sensation, to those who pushed and pressed to the point of near disgust. She sensed Alex knew the perfect combination and didn’t resist.
Alex leaned toward Frankie as if to kiss her and whispered, “Do yeh want to get out of here?”
Frankie looked up at him. “Where do you want to go?” she asked.
“Outside,” he said. “It’s getting too hot in here.”
“All right,” said Frankie.
Frankie followed Alex away from the crowd and through a sliding door which led to the patio. The air felt cool against Frankie’s sweaty skin, and there was definitely romance in the air—palm trees swayed against the starry sky and the brilliant full moon hung low in the sky. Alex and Frankie stood awkwardly alongside each other, both staring at the sky.
“What shall we do?” asked Frankie, breaking the silence.
“Dance,” he suggested.
“We can’t hear the music,” said Frankie.
Alex stepped before Frankie and leaned toward her. “Music is in the soul and in the heart,” he said. “You don’t need a record player to listen to music.” He then took her in his arms and began to waltz her around the pool.
“What are we dancing to?” she asked.
“‘Great Balls of Fire,’” he said, gently waltzing her in circles.
Keeping step with him, Frankie said, “I don’t think you know the song.”
“Sure I do.” He lifted her onto his shoulder and yelled, “Great balls of fire!”
“Funny!” she screamed. “Now put me down!”
Alex spun Frankie around in the air. “Song’s not over yet,” he said, dangerously tipping her over the edge of the pool.
Frankie screamed and kicked. “Put me down!”
When Alex set her down gently, Frankie playfully shoved him into the pool. Laughing, she watched him sink to the bottom and waited for him to resurface. When the bubbles stopped appearing, she became concerned. “Alex?” she called. “Alex?!”
When he didn’t appear, Frankie kicked off her shoes and dived into the pool, fully clothed. She reached under his arms, attempting to lift his torso and pull him up to the surface.
He struggled away from her. “What’s the matter with you? Who goes around pushing people in the pool?” he asked. I could have drowned, you know.”
Frankie laughed and said, “But you didn’t.” She splashed water in his face. “Besides, you deserved it.
Alex splashed her back. “Yeh're a yampy lassie.”
She swam to the wall and said, “You’re so sexy when you speak cockney to me.”
He met her at the wall. Both of them took a moment to catch their breaths. Alex leaned closer to Frankie. “I want to give yeh a nasty bloody,” he whispered in her ear.
She had no idea what he said, but his breath on her neck gave her the chills. She sighed, nervous of his advance. “Do you want to race?” she asked to dissuade Alex.
“Do yeh
really
think you can beat me?”
“I know I can,” she said. “I’m a good swimmer; besides, Americans are better swimmers than Brits.”
“Well, that does it—you have offended my national honor,” said Alex.
They held on to the wall and counted down together, “Three, two, one . . . Go!”
Both pushed hard off the wall and started swimming. Underwater, Frankie could see Alex getting ahead of her.
Damn him,
she thought. Her competitive nature kicked in, and she swam over to him and pulled at the waistband of his jeans, hoping that would get him to stop. It didn’t. She then held on to his body to keep him from swimming further. When that didn’t work, she pushed his head down. Alex still kept swimming even with Frankie on top of him. Together they reached the opposite wall, with Alex winning by an arm’s length.
“What the hell?!” he shouted, standing up in the shallow end.
Staring up at him, she was surprised by how muscular he was in his wet T-shirt. He appeared to have more of an athlete’s physique than a musician’s. Frankie splashed him with water. “You, sir, are no gentleman,” she exclaimed. “You were supposed to let me win!”
“Who do you think you are?” he scolded, looking down at her. “Why should people just
allow
you to win? You should win on your own merit, not by cheating; and besides, I can see your nipples through your dress.”
“You’re a pig!” she yelled, splashing more water at him.
“Hey! Yeh know, I normally have to work a little harder for a girl to pull at my pants,” he said.
“Another race, then?” Frankie asked, laughing,
“No way,” he replied. “You cheat,
and
you’re a sore loser.”
“No, I’m a winner!” proclaimed Frankie. She then pushed off the wall and started swimming. Alex swam slowly alongside her. He had no intention of allowing her to win, but he’d settle for a tie.
At the other end of the pool they stopped and stared at one another. Alex then reached out his hand to her and said, “Truce?”
Frankie spat into her palm and then said, “Let’s spit on it.”
Alex spat into his own hand and shook Frankie’s hard—so hard that he almost pulled her underwater with his grasp. This sexy, beautiful starlet was becoming dangerously close to the textbook definition of a “good pal” rather than a romantic conquest. It was hard to imagine such a beauty could have such a crude, tomboyish personality. He loved it, but he wanted to make sure his true intentions would not go unnoticed. Underwater, her grabbed her waist and pulled her toward him.
In his arms, her head became filled with thoughts. She was hardly a virgin, and she had been with men who were more overtly physical with her; yet she was always able to deter their advances. Even at the young age of nineteen, she had mastered how to manage a man. It was for her to decide whose seduction she would allow and whose she would pass on.
Something about Alex terrified her. She was wildly attracted to him and thoroughly enjoyed their banter, but she was not ready for anything further. She didn’t want him feeling rejected or put off; she just wanted him to slow down.
She pulled back slightly. “Where did you learn to swim so well?” she asked, trying to keep the conversation going.
Alex continued to try to hold her close and said seductively, “The bath.”
“No, seriously,” Frankie said with a laugh.
“Seriously, the bathtub,” said Alex. “When I was a boy I’d fill the tub to the top and submerge under the water and pretend I was a diver diving for treasure.”
“Did you ever find anything?” asked Frankie.
“Lots of stuff—gold coins, crowns, scepters, diamonds,” he said.
“You must be very rich,” said Frankie.
“Nah, it all vanished when I pulled the plug,” he said, drawing her closer. He kissed her deeply and softly.
Frankie finally felt butterflies fluttering in her stomach, and if she were standing on solid ground, her knees would be buckling beneath her. As she wrapped her arms tighter around his shoulders, she could feel his body pressing against hers under the water. She wanted to stay in this place forever.
“Oi! No shex in the pool!” yelled a nearby voice with a drunken slur. It was Josh.
“Piss off!” Alex yelled back without taking his eyes off Frankie.
Josh stepped to the edge of the pool. “All I’m saying is it’s going to be you skimming cum off the surface.”
That ruined the moment for Alex and Frankie. “Sometimes I really hate those guys,” he whispered to her.
“
He
certainly is a candy-ass” she whispered. She then said out loud for Josh to hear, “Maybe they need girls; then they wouldn’t be JEALOUS!”
“Not jealous—” said Josh, “just looking for Frankie Robinson.” He gazed over the edge of the pool. “You ain’t ’appen to be ’er?”
“No,” said Alex, holding on to her tightly. “This is Igor Shantzky.”
Frankie giggled. “Igor?”
“Igor, Frankie, whatever,” slurred Josh, “Some dude named Lester is looking for her. It seems the princess’s carriage is waiting.”
“No,” said Alex, “she’s staying with me tonight. I’m not letting her go.”
Looking into his eyes, she realized she didn’t want to go; she was having way too much fun—the most fun she’d ever had with a man. Frankie hung on to his shoulders for a minute longer and then pushed herself away. “I gotta go,” she said quietly to Alex. “He’s our chaperone and our ride home.”
“He kind of stinks as a chaperone,” said Alex.
“No, he is unfortunately a very good one,” said Frankie with a laugh. She swam to the edge of the pool and climbed out. She exchanged looks with Josh then proceeded inside. Alex reluctantly got out of the pool and followed Frankie back into the party. As they stood, both drenched and dripping water onto the carpet, they caught the attention of everyone around them.