A Study with Slugs

Chapter 10: Setting the Hook

Tosh had been watching me get ready out of the corner of his eye; he happened to be home that evening, and seemed to be just reading a book or something.  When it was clear I was leaving he said, “I'll drive you.”

“I was going to take the bus and just meet her there, Tosh.”

“It's no problem; let me drive.  I have to head up to campus anyway.”

I looked at him suspiciously.  Loud and cranky though it was, Tosh always kept the Rabbit meticulously clean, so I had no worries about my borrowed finery.  It was just that he had been so busy the last few days, this seemed out of the blue.  “Um, okay, if you're sure.”  

“Yup,” he said.  ”Let's go.”

Zack put on some AC/DC; say what you want about it, the Rabbit had a decent stereo.  (Although only something like AC/DC could be made out over the engine.  Back in our room, Tosh tended to favor stuff like Tangerine Dream or Pink Floyd or even Santana.  Trust me: Tangerine Dream was completely inaudible with the Rabbit at full roar, no matter how much he cranked the volume.)  He seemed in a good mood, and I was about to go on a date with a really hot woman, so I wasn't doing too badly myself—even if it was at a dance where I was reasonably confident I would make a fool out of myself.

Rather than making me walk in my ill-fitting shoes, Tosh dropped me off at Stevenson circle, and I made my way over to the walkway that led to the dining hall.  I didn't go in yet; it was still early, and the view from Stevenson down to the East Field and then out across the Monterey Bay is pretty wonderful.  And I was hoping to catch Sara at the entrance so I could make a show of being all gentlemanly, maybe make a good impression before I started stepping on her feet.  I wasn't waiting there all that long when there was a firm poke in my back.  I turned around, startled, looked down, and saw it was Sara.

“Jeez, you startled me,” Captain Obvious Gordon said.

She laughed; for such a short woman—she couldn't have been over 5'—she had a deep, raspy laugh that I liked quite a lot.  Her grey-blue eyes crinkled up.  ”Ha!  I thought you guys were supposed to be hard to sneak up on!”

“Do you want me to do a take-down or something to prove my military worth?”

She smiled and shook her head.  ”Some other time, maybe.  Just don't let it happen again.”

I had no idea what she meant and just looked at her instead.  Or perhaps “gazed” is more appropriate.  Honestly, she looked fabulous. She was wearing medium heels of some kind that brought her up a bit in height, and her curvy figure might have been designed with formal ball gowns in mind—it cinched her in at the waist, flared out at the hips, and made her look . . . well, I already said fabulous, so I don't want to be redundant.  Her gown was off the shoulder and in Navy blue, sweeping the ground, and her red hair was all done up.  I was as speechless as I ever get.

“You look great,” I said.

“You look like you're wearing your brother's sports jacket.”

“Now that's not very nice!” I said.  I turned sideways.  ”It's Jerome's, actually.”

“Isn't he like 6 foot two or something?”

“You want to go to the dance, or insult my sartorial splendor?  Or should I send to Concord for my Marine dress uniform?”

She grimaced.  ”I don't think that would go over too well.”

“I didn't think so either, so stop complaining.”  I lifted a foot.  ”At least I got leather-soled shoes.”

“Good for you.”

“What are you doing here so early for anyway?  I thought you were going to catch the 7:04 bus.”