Chapter 15

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Chapter 15

Steve gunned the throttle of his Indian, the engine rumbling with power between his thighs. Passengers stuck in traffic heading the other direction, into the city this early in the morning, gave him envious stares as he wove through the light southbound traffic of the New Jersey Turnpike.

He'd woken up feeling restless, unable to put his finger on the uneasy feeling which had woken him from a dream. It had been a pleasant dream, one he'd had some variation of many times before, but this time it had been unusually real.

"What'll you have, soldier?" the barman asked, rubbing dry a clean glass with a bar cloth.

"I'll have a beer," Steve said. He plunked down a shilling, staring into the mirror behind the bar at the reflected dance floor. The bartender poured a draft, the beer forming an amber head like a sheath of fine wheat. Strains of the Andrews Sisters strummed out from the five-man band playing on the small raised platform that served as a stage while local British girls tore up the floor with Allied soldiers from all over the globe.

"You waiting for someone?" the bartender asked, making small talk.

"Yeah," Steve said. His face lit up in a smile. "Someone real special. I wouldn't miss this date for anything in the world."

There was a lull in the room, even the band missing a beat as every head turned towards the entrance of the Stork Club. Peggy, paused in the doorway as though she were the young Princess Royale Elisabeth, waiting for her retainers to clear a path. She wore that red dress, the one that showed off her figure and gave her chestnut hair and dark eyes an air of mystery. Every man in the room rose to their feet, moving towards her to ask for a dance, much to the annoyance of casual dance partners who stormed away in a huff. The band recovered their beat, giving a brassy 'whah-whaa' of the trombone, and resumed playing.

Peggy looked toward the bar, her expression confident. Steve felt like that skinny kid from Brooklyn who no girl would give the time of day as she made her way through the sea of adoring retainers. Steve had rehearsed what he'd say a million times, but every time he opened his mouth, the words always came out wrong. His heart beat so fast it sounded as though an airplane engine was roaring in his ears.

"I promised I'd be here," Steve said, the only words he could get out of his mouth without choking. "I always keep my promises."

"I know." Peggy smiled, her lips curving up in a wolfish smile which flashed her perfect white teeth. Some part of Steve's mind noted her lipstick matched her dress, as though they'd been purchased together just for tonight. "I waited a long time for the right man to ask me to dance."

Steve opened his mouth to answer and didn't have any words to convey just how much this moment meant to him. He decided it was better if he didn't speak. What better way to avoid putting your foot into your mouth than to simply shut up and let the girl do all the talking? He took her proffered hand, fashionably clad in elbow-length red gloves, and led her to the dance floor.

"I still don't know how to dance," Steve said. "I waited ... I guess I was waiting for the right girl."

He had no idea what to do, but ever since Peggy had put the idea into his head, Steve had been watching what others did very closely, practicing with a broom whenever nobody was looking. He would never be Gene Kelly, but he had enough common sense to put one arm around the small of Peggy's back and use the other hand to hold her in a lead. The band changed songs, the somber strains of Bing Cosby singing 'I'll Be Seeing You' giving the smoky room an intimate feel. As though they were the only two people in the world right now and the music existed only for them.

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