We pulled up to Erieview Drive-in at eight thirty. It wasn't close to Lake Erie, but that didn't matter. The first movie wouldn't start till nine thirty, after it got dark.
"Beth Papalardo is here,' I said, "I can smell her."
"Yeah, Shalimar." Yvonne wrinkled her nose. "She uses too much! Of course she's still scared of me since I broke her fingers with my little souvenir Cleveland Indians baseball bat. Too bad I did her right hand. I didn't know shes left-handed. "
"Yeah, Shalimar is like Brillcream or Lucky Tiger Butch Hair Wax, a little dab will do ya."
"Oh, really?"
"Yeah, go figure. You know how she's wanted to be an actress ever since she got the lead in the school play in her freshman year."
"Right. And, she got that because..."
"Because Steve Schomler's smarmy uncle, who worked on some B-grade movies in Hollywood, wrote the script, and he was..."
"Don't say any more, please. I don't want to barf."
"Well, Beth thinks she's so boss."
"Yeah."
"She's dying to go to fancy-schmancy fucking Hollywood now..."
"Feature that..."
"Ever since Madame Zara told her that she'd be a big sensation out there."
"Madame Zara, who tells fortunes in back of Googey's Thrift And Coffee Shop on Saturday afternoons?"
"The same."
"Madame Zara will say anything you want to hear if you give her ten bucks. She's a good student of human nature so she can figure out easy what your little heart desires. I heard her real name is Conchetta Delgado. She ain't no powerful bruja..." "Not like your nonnie! Everybody on the Hill knows your nonnie is the real thing!," Yvonne said. "Oh, damn!" "What?" "Is that Emilio Leone?" I ducked down to the floor of the truck.
"Yeah, I think it is."
"Don't let him see me!"
"How? We're already hooked up to the speaker and are we going to just pull out of here? No, no. I just paid. Why you acting so goofy, Maria?
"Never mind!"
Yvonne grinned. "You're like this because you got big hots for Emilio, not that anybody could blame you. Like who doesn't? Hey, he's coming right over. Cool... Hi, Em-il-io!," Yvonne called, coyly, too coyly; she was enjoying this.
Emilio leaned into the open window. "Whatja doin' on the floor, Marie?"
"Oh, uh, I dropped the pen out of my purse."
He smiled. "Did ya find it?"
"Uh, no, but, I hope to. You never know when you need to write something."
"Yeah, one never knows about that."
I shrugged my shoulders. I got back on the seat, unzipped my purse, made like I was looking for the pen. Emilio opened the door, grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the truck. "Bye, Mariaaa!" Yvonne waggled her fingers at me. "HAVE FUN, MARIA!" she yelled.
Just great. I heard laughing and giggling from the kids around us. It would be news all over the Hill tomorrow. It would get back to Ma because that's what kids did at the drive-in; they made out. Although, good girls only allowed petting above the waist.
And, then, it would be how I left the lot to go into the bushes to make out with sharp Emilio Leone. (That I wasn't a good girl.) Probably, the talk would be that I did the deed, had crazy sex with him and because, of course, I wasn't really a good girl, and it was too hard and uncomfortable to do in a car.
"What the hell?," I said, really annoyed.
It was getting dark fast. I could almost see the stars. Emilio pulled me behind a row of cars, the last row, on the edge of the big bushes of the lot, and kissed me, hard and deep. "That's more like it." He was laughing.
"You sure got a hell of a fucking nerve!" I jumped back. My hands were on my hips. "What the fuck gives you the fucking right?"
"I thought ya'd like it."
"Well, you thought all wrong!. I don't like being grabbed! I'm not easy!"
He turned his head, this way and that, teasing. "Since when?"
"Since forever, you miserable fucking bastard!"
He caught my hand before I hit him. "What if I asked ya to go for a ride with me."
"On your Harley."
"Sure."
"Just a ride, okay? No funny business."
His eyebrows went up. "Sure."
"Uh, okay, I guess."
"Ya guess."
"Yeah, okay, only because I really like bikes, and your's is a beaut."
He grinned again, giving me that two thousand watts of teeth. "Sure, Baby."
"Don't call me 'Baby'."
"Sure, Maria."
I smiled "Better."
We walked to his bike. "I love it when ya play hard ta get."
"It's not an act." I tossed my head. "I am hard to get, near impossible."
He smiled again, threw his leg over the bike. "Hug into me if ya get cold. It may be chilly."
I stepped on the peg and pulled myself up behind him, but I have to admit I loved sliding my body slowly down his back as I got on the bike. Yeah, lovely.
I am, I really am, secretly, a slut. I've been accused of being a prude numerous times. But, I've known for years that I'm not a prude, like good girls were always told they were and accused, by frustrated boyfriends, of being cock teases and giving their boyfriends "blue balls". I don't know how many times I heard this from my former slimeball boyfriend Harry, laying this guilt thing on me, him telling me I was making him very, very sick from "blue balls," because I wouldn't have sex with him. And, that his balls were going to get strangulated, were in danger of losing circulation, that I'd put him in the hospital and that I could cure this easily by satisfying him. What a load of bullshit. So insulting that he thought I was so stupid that I'd fall for such absolute crap. Some jerky guys never get it through their heads that you might not want to have sex with them simply because the way they're acting toward you is repulsive, and that they turn you off, completely, the weirdos, the creeps. Naturally, that they're pimple-faced, morons doesn't help their causes a bit.
I put my arms around Emilio; I could feel the heat of his body, even through the soft black leather. I rested my cheek against his warm back. We took off, spitting dust.
--- Copyright by Antoinette Beard/Sorelle Sucere 2021.
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