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= THE HILL CLUB =

a Night Shots short story (Suspense)

by John Argo

3.

He was sweet. She took him to her table. She ate her salad and got slightly tipsy finishing the margarita. He listened patiently while she told him her troubles. He looked sinister at first, but underneath there was this sweet boy. And handsome as a razor slash in his dark suit, white shirt, and dark tie. By the beginning of her second margarita she was feeling relaxed. The lights dimmed and a band played and they danced. There was a slow dance. She pressed her cheek against his shoulder, and he kept his cheek against hers till the end of the dance. Later they drifted into the aquamarine light of the swimming area. There was a mosaic ship's wheel in the floor of the pool, with an "H" in the middle, and watery light sloshed around the wheel. "Want to go swimming?"

He laughed. "I only have my business suit here."

"Go on. I'd like to see you swimming." She waved for Eduardo.

He captured her wrist. "Marie, what are you doing?" His hand was strong, but gentle.

"I'm borrowing trunks from Eduardo. He's the assistant manager. They have tons of lost stuff."

"No," he said, and she was intimidated by his strength for a moment.

"Okay," she said. "Then how about at my house?"

The woman would be no problem. Lou arced up from the diving board, did a jackknife so he could see the moon between his knees, then opened up and sliced cleanly into Marie's pool.

She had a big house in the good part of town. An acre of land, it looked like, worth a half mil or better. A pool, a tennis court, a stable. She wore a bikini that showed off her still-good figure. Her eyes had a different look now, distant, frightened, calculating. She brought towels from the house. "I was planning to go to bed early," she said. "I have to go to LA in the morning."

Lou smiled as he fluffed himself with the towel. "Yes, it's getting late. I'd better be running along." He waited for the inevitable question. It came as he was fully dressed, ready to leave in his rented car.

"How about staying for a nightcap?"

"If you like," he said.

She was nice in bed. She was fifteen years older than he, but firm. Agile. Limber. And vocal. He gave, and she took. They hollered, coming together. Several times that night. She was the right kind of older woman for this, like ripe fruit, a well-made drink.

In the morning he awoke to the sound of shouting. Marie lay fast asleep beside him. The door flew open, and Lou sat up so fast he nearly tore some stomach muscles.

"Mom!" A blonde in her early twenties with a hoarse voice stood in the doorway. When she saw Lou, her mouth pursed and her eyes grew hard. "Mom, I need to speak with you." She pulled the door shut.

Marie sat up rubbing her eyes. "My daughter. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he said. "Can I shower?"

"Go ahead. I'll use one of the other bathrooms." She sent him down a tiled hall and he luxuriated in a steamy shower.

He got a closer look at this daughter. She was chunky, and golden-skinned. Linda Argento. Her features were Italian, he thought; blunted, self-assured, acerb. With lively caramel eyes. The girl wore a too-big sweatshirt with the Hill Club logo. Her fingers he found fascinating, tapered, the nails worked in various shades of pink. Her legs were thick and firm. A checkered bikini bottom peeked.

There was a boyfriend, too. He looked slim and strong, very young, with short neat dark hair. He had questioning eyes. The girl needed money or something, and Marie provided it, and the girl left, with a hostile after-glance at Lou.

Marie made bacon and eggs. Lou ate hungrily. Orange juice, a breeze by the pool. "Will I see you again?" she asked.

"I have to go out of town for a few days on business," he said. "I'd like to see you."

"I'd like that," she said with evident relief.

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