Samson and Sunset Read Free Page B

dressed and come all
the way out here, might as well stay a while.
      As I was sitting on a bar stool,
feeling kind of sad and shy, I spotted this guy across the room. I
noticed he held his beer can in a real unique way, sort of wrapped
his hand around the can, thumb up, his hand on the outside. He was
looking at me and then he moved slowly across the room in my
direction. I heard a girl say, “You’re going to go talk to her ?” right as he reached me, with a grin I’d seen once
before.
      “Hi, do you remember me?” His voice
was deep and warm.
      “You’re that little Westover boy who
helped me the night my car broke down.”
      “Oh, now I'm a little boy. Still have
that smart mouth I see!”
      Some drunken idiot pulled my hair at
that moment and asked if it was real. I jumped up and grabbed
Shay’s arm. “You’re taking me for a ride to get me out of
here.”
      “What are your terms?” he wanted to
know.
      I told him. “I hate these parties. I
have my own car. You know first hand I have a baby, and you’re
never ever getting sex from me. How do you like those terms?”
      “I think I can live with them, if you
can.”
      “You know, there’s really no point, I
guess…”
      “Wait a minute.” He caught my arm. “I
was bored myself. Since now we know the terms, want to just ride
around for a while, no strings attached?”
      “Well. Okay then. But no strings.”
      I sat over on my side, as far as I
could get to my door. Guess I was getting ready to make my big
escape. After all, I was in a car alone with the legendary Shay
Westover!
      After riding around for about an hour,
just listening to the radio without much conversation, Shay asked
if I’d like to go to a bottle club called The Black Hat. They
didn’t serve alcohol after midnight in Hudson, so after 12 p.m.
people went to bottle clubs. They served steaks and hamburgers and
you could bring your own booze if you liked.
      I told Shay I didn’t drink, but I’d
go.
      “I pay my own way, no strings,” I
reminded him.
      “Fine by me,” he said.
      Right as we walked into the dining
room, I spotted Rick Newman at the jukebox.
      I asked Shay to excuse me for a second
and went over and asked Rick if he’d decided on the surgery. He
said yes he had. Shay walked over to a table where five or six
couples were having dinner and drinking, and then—girls, girls
everywhere! They were coming up to the table, out of the
woodwork.
      “Hi Shay, want to dance?”
      “Shay, Shay, can I get you a
drink?”
      “Looking good tonight, Shay…”
      Sick. Why do girls act like that? As I
reached the table, a handsome, stately, dark-haired man sitting
next to a very pretty older woman verbally dressed me down in front
of everyone:
      “How dare you go over and talk to
another guy when you’re with my son? We won’t tolerate that
behavior. Shay deserves better. So, young lady, I’d see that it
never happens again!”
      I stood there for a second, stunned.
He then turned and told Shay to get two more chairs. While he did
that, I regrouped.
      “Mister,” I said. “I don’t know who
you are and I don’t give a rat’s ass, but you get this clear, and
watch my mouth as I’m saying it: I am not your son’s date. I am not
your son’s friend, and after meeting your son’s father, I never
want to see your son again. So he doesn’t have to find two chairs.
I wouldn’t break bread at the same table as you. Shay, you owe me a
ride to my car.”
      I turned on my heel and walked out the
door. It didn’t take long for Shay to follow me out. He unlocked my
side of the car and held the door as I got in. The first mile of
the ride was silent.
      Then he said, “Guess I’m not the only
one you use that smart mouth on.”
      Silence.
      Finally I said, “I think your dad was
out of line.”
      “Well, he’s not used to girls not
giving his son their undivided attention.” Shay chuckled. “But,
I’ll give you