Route 66

4 Starry Eyed

As the magical day neared Annette gave me plenty of advice, especially on how to kiss. I reminded Annette that I'd been kissed before to which she gave me a teasing smile and said, "You've got to get this one just right."

After what seemed like forever the day finally came and every couple minutes I'd check my watch nervously waiting for the hand to strike seven. My skirt was neatly pressed and I wore a white blouse with a sweater. I studied myself in the mirror hoping my makeup was just right. Yes, staring back at me was a mature, exciting woman and not some eighteen year old girl.

I heard the rumbling of an engine outside and peered through the window. Blake had stepped out of his truck and was making his way towards the lobby. I rushed down the stairs and slowed my pace just steps before opening the door to the common area.

Blake's smile could have lit up the whole city when he saw me walking through. He fumbled with his keys nervously and said, "Hi Veronica. You look...well...you look beautiful."

He wore beige slacks and a simple white collared shirt with the top button open.

"Isn't it just the perfect night?" I said, and added, "I heard your truck."

"It's no Impala but I hope it's okay."

I smiled at him sweetly as he helped me up into the passenger seat and off we went.

You can never tell what the weather is going to do in Minnesota. It was late October and almost balmy. I was preoccupied with one thought and one thought only.

When was Blake Preston going to kiss me?

He pulled into the drive-in lot and parked a good distance away from anyone else.

This is a good sign, he wants privacy.

Turning his chiseled face towards me, he gazed into my eyes as I melted with anticipation. I could tell he was nervous because his muscular chest expanded with quick, deep, breaths.

"Veronica...," he said hesitantly.

"Yes, Blake?" I said breathlessly, my body alive with warmth as beads of sweat cascaded over heated skin.

"Want some popcorn?"

My heart exploded with disappointment but I simply smiled and nodded.

"What's your favorite soda?"

"Dr. Pepper"

"Okay, I'll be right back."

When he left, I threw my head back and wiped the sweat from my glistening neck as the idea of making the first move was not completely out of the question.

What other signals can I give him?

I was so focused on my emotions that I didn't notice three men had approached the truck. They were all greasers with slicked back hair, leather jackets and jeans. One of them opened the door to the truck as I jumped up in my seat and gasped.

"Hi Doll, I'm Johnny. What's your name?" he said with a smirk.

"It doesn't matter. I'm here with my boyfriend and he just went out to get some popcorn. He'll be back any second so I suggest you leave."

They all started snickering as Johnny said, "Come on baby, I bet I'm twice the man he is. What'd you say we go have some fun, huh? Don't be shy."

He reached for my arm and gripped it tightly as I frantically tried to pull away with a scream.

Then I heard the voice I most longed to hear - calm, firm, and commanding.

"Leave her alone."

Johnny released his grip and turned to face Blake along with the rest of his crew.

"So, this is your chick college boy? I'm going to do her a favor and show her what it's like to be with a real man, any problem with that?" he said; brandishing a switchblade.

"Yeah, that's going to be a big problem," Blake said calmly.

The next events happened with dizzying speed. With no warning, Blake hurled the popcorn and drinks at Johnny as the greaser instinctively raised his hands to block them. Then he threw a hard jab to his gut, knocking the wind clean out of him. The switchblade dropped as Johnny collapsed, gasping for air.

The remaining greasers charged Blake but he got a good right hook in before they flung him down and kicked him mercilessly as he brought his hands up to protect his face. I pleaded with them to stop as Blake yelled in agony.

All of a sudden, out of nowhere, a girl jumped on the back of one of the greasers and started scratching at his eyes. At the same instant, an uncoordinated boy with glasses, who seemed to be tripping over his own feet, managed to take what looked like a lit cigarette and jammed it into the hand of the other greaser as he howled in pain. After a few confused moments I realized that the brave Samaritans were Annette and Paul.

By this time, Johnny had made it to his feet and dove at Paul, driving him flat on his back as his glasses flew off. Blake grabbed Johnny's jacket and threw him to the ground; straddling his chest with pounding fists to his face.

Annette had been flung off violently and hit the ground hard, her skirt filthy with mud and hiked half way up her thighs. Her glazed eyes stared upwards, disoriented, as the greaser staggered away from her.

The one with the cigarette burn lunged at Blake, aiming a kick at his head, but Blake was faster, catching his foot midair and sending him crashing to the ground with a jarring thud.

Blake rose slowly to his feet, the only one standing. Johnny was on the verge of passing out, his face a mass of dripping blood and bruises.

A crowd gathered around us when they saw that the greasers had been defeated, two of them on the ground and the third nowhere to be found.

I frantically rushed over to my savior and knelt down beside her.

"Annette, can you hear me? Please say something!"