Devil Moon (8 page)

Phineas sidled up to Maddie. "You quelled that fighting incident admirably. I was getting ready to restrain those ruffians myself."

Maddie looked up at him. "Did you have to stop to tie your shoes?"

Phineas blinked at her. "What?"

Maddie sighed. "Never mind."

He pulled her into his gangly arms. "This is the perfect time for that dance you owe me."

"Oh, I don't think..."

But the determined Mr. Manchester had her in his stiff embrace and nothing short of a scene on her part would disengage him. So, Maddie found herself jammed against his coat lapel doing a box step, wishing she were on the planet Mars.

Phil returned to the dance floor, having put the fear of God into the two miscreants, looking to have a few words with the reckless Miss Harris. He spotted her in the beanpole English teacher's arms. He grinned at her priceless expression of long-suffering endurance.

Phyllis Green's high-pitched voice reached him. "Oh, Coach Wilcox!"

He pretended he didn't hear her. He couldn't stand the thought of pushing the saccharine Home-Ec teacher around the dance floor. He made a straight line for Miss Harris and tapped Manchester on the shoulder.

"Hey, buddy, it isn't fair to monopolize the hottest chick at the dance."

Phineas appeared about to argue when the music changed to a rollicking American Bandstand standard geared to twists and spins that were completely out of Manchester's league.

Phineas made a little bow. "I'll get you another drink, Madeleine." He walked off in the direction of the food table, shooting Phil a look of complete disdain.

Phil and Maddie stood facing each other surrounded by energetic teenage dancers. He looked dangerous to her in his leather jacket and dark clothes. She looked damned cute to him in her cuddly fifties get up.

He took her hand. "Let's see what you're made of, Miss Harris."

An irresistible challenge, she spun into his arm and then out again and they were off. They danced in and out, up and down, moving and grooving to a fifties beat. Like Frankie and Annette incarnate, she even slid once under his legs and back again. Before long, the spotlight picked them up and everyone stopped to watch, clapping their encouragement.

She laughed, following Phil's fast-paced lead. His eyes never left her face as he enjoyed watching her toss her head back in merriment. They danced until the upbeat song mercifully ended. The circle of spectators applauded their appreciation as the couple stood panting holding hands, and they took a bow.

The lights changed, drenching the whole room in a blue tint and Randy began the strains of
Blue Moon
.

Phil gently tugged on her hand and brought her close to him, swaying to the haunting love song. He held her far enough away from his body to look into her face and talk. "You know how to cut a rug, Miss Harris. But you're a little idiot, you know that don't you?"

Her eyes flashed darkly and she tried to push away. "You are the most insulting person I have ever met."

He squeezed her hand and tightened his grip at her waist. "Getting between two raging bulls isn't a bright move. You could have gotten hurt by those guys, sweetheart."

She looked down. "Oh...I suppose so. I just thought they'd stop."

"Honey, never get between two males during mating season."

She tilted her head up, meeting his gaze. "I'll try to remember that. Thanks for coming to the rescue."

"Anytime, cupcake, anytime."

They continued rocking as Randy's mellow voice crooned about a blue moon and longing for someone to care for. Throbbing music. Pulsing heartbeats.

Maddie couldn't take her gaze away from Phil's face. In the shadowy light he appeared so strong, his square jaw and chiseled features supremely male. A serious, compelling expression replaced the smart aleck smirk. His intense gaze held her as firmly in place as his brawny arms. Something was happening here. She could feel it, a spinning of invisible threads twisting around them as the music played on. She imagined a blue cocoon materializing out of the notes pouring from the bandstand.

"What do your friends call you?" he asked.

"Maddie," she said softly.

Maddie. He liked it. It promised the soft underside of the hard surfaced Madeleine. The cashmere under his hand on her lower back had a sensual feel and he moved his fingers ever so slightly over the texture. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this good. For the moment the usual burden of bitterness, frustration, guilt and cynicism lifted from his shoulders and life seemed to have possibilities. Looking into the wide eyes of Maddie Harris, he felt like the man he was supposed to be.

They finished the dance locked in each other's gaze knowing something beyond words was transpiring between them. Something that transcended the mere sexual attraction of a slow dance. Reflections from the mirrored ball glinted on their faces with hypnotizing rhythm, shadow and light, sparkle and space. Like being caught in the beam of that ol’ Devil Moon…

Chapter Five

There once was a girl who had a curl right in the middle of her forehead,

When she was good she was very, very good

but when she was bad, she was horrid

As the school dance spun on, Wade Finn sat in his living room, pissed off. The damned DEA had burned his marijuana fields today. It had been such a sweet operation, growing plots of weed here and there in the hills. Now how the hell was he going pay for his race cars and get to the meets? Busting his butt with the wrecker truck would be a pain in the ass.

As he sat on the sofa in his ramshackle living room nursing a beer and popping a couple pills, he looked around at all the crap in the room. Yeah, he had some nice things, the big screen TV, the workout equipment, video games. He liked his fifty-gallon aquarium with the monster fish that ate the goldfish he fed them. Of course the furniture looked like hell with dirty upholstery covering the couch and chairs. With all these damn kids, what could you expect?

At that moment, bickering children grated on Wade's nerves as they sat around the Formica kitchen table finishing off macaroni and cheese. George, age twelve, and Vince, age eight, engaged in a shoving match. Faith, the five-year old, colored a picture until Vince stole her crayons. She screeched like a bobcat. Baby Garth banged his high chair with his cup, jabbering and laughing.

Wade stared at the noisy kids, saw Ginger's fat ass washing dishes at the sink with the ever-burning cigarette dangling out of her mouth and just wanted to punch something. He was strapped with all these mouths to feed when he should be out making a name for himself. He should be on the race car circuit right now being the next, by God, Dale Ernhardt, instead of sitting around in this hellhole waiting for all the kids to go to bed so he could finally get some with his old lady. Life was so frigging unfair.

He stood up and hollered, "Can't you shut these kids up?"

Ginger twirled around, aware of his edgy mood. But she had worries of her own. With the pot money gone, what were they going to do? She'd tried working before, but making minimum wage down in the town didn't add up to squat. And who would take care of the baby?

She hollered back, "They're not botherin' you!"

"The hell they're not!"

He took angry strides to the table, swept his arm across the surface, sending bowls of sticky pasta flying. "Supper's over! Go to bed!"

Faith howled as chunks of macaroni ruined her pretty colored picture. The baby laughed and threw his bowl onto the floor. George and Vince quickly stood up
and ran
from the room.

Ginger grabbed Garth out of the high chair and hugged him in her arms. As she cast angry looks at Wade, she talked to Faith. "Take your colors and git to bed."

Faith cried, "He wrecked my picture!"

Ginger tried to keep her voice even. "I know. You can make another 'un tomorrow."

Faith wiped her eyes with the back of hands as she gathered up her crayons. When she reached the kitchen door she turned around, looked at Wade and yelled, "You turd!"

Wade took one step in her direction and she high-tailed it up the makeshift stairs in the hall to the room she shared with Reba.

He turned on Ginger. "You should teach them kids some manners!"

"I'm givin' the baby a bath and puttin' him to bed." Ginger disappeared into the hall.

Wade trudged back to the couch, dug for the remote and grabbed another swig of beer. As he surfed the channels he hoped there was something good to watch, maybe some wrestling or a rerun of
Married, With Children
.

* * *

On Saturday morning the scent of fall filled the air, a whiff of change. Maddie stretched on the running track that encircled the Beaver Cove High football field. A blacktop ribbon surrounded the green grass. She often ran on Saturday mornings before going into her office to catch up on paperwork neglected during the week. She simply couldn't abide facing a backlog on Monday morning. Two hours of undisturbed diligence equaled eight hours of work accomplished during a normal school day.

Dressed in her leggings and matching running gear, she longed to pump her legs and feel the blood rush through her veins. At seven o'clock she had the track to herself with no neighborhood joggers, no teenagers–-no disturbing football coaches.

Maddie lifted her feet for a slow warm-up lap, thinking about those heady moments at the dance. It hadn't lasted long, standing there under the spell of
Blue Moon
. But remembering it now rekindled the warmth, recaptured the trance.

Scared the bejeebes out her.

She liked having control and sensed the Coach resisted anyone's control. He was an arrogant jock and Thursday's slow dance was just some sort of high after their fast jitterbug. Yes, that's what it was–like runner's euphoria. Nothing personal existed between herself and the smug coach. Nothing personal at all. She continued running, congratulating herself on putting the whole thing into perspective.

Phil pulled his car into the football stadium parking lot. The pressure of the day gripped his chest. His first football game as a coach. He'd been awake since four, read the paper, and finally gotten dressed. Standing in his messy apartment, he'd known he should make an attempt at cleaning it up. Then he thought,
screw it
. He'd rather go to school, work out, and get ready for the game. He shouldn't be so nervous over a high school football game, for Chrissake, but he was jittery as hell.

Watching from his car, a running figure caught his eye at the far end of the track, undoubtedly a local early bird. Then he recognized the Camry to his right and he focused on the runner again. A smile filled his face and the tension in his chest eased. Something about Miss Harris, make that “Maddie,” made him grin. As she rounded the bend running toward him, he noticed her perfectly coordinated running clothes: purple and black togs, purple leggings and headband. Yeah, she could be an ad for
Runner Magazine
. He decided a few laps might also do him some good.

As she began her third lap, she unclipped the water bottle attached at her waist and threw her head back for a big gulp.

"It's a mighty fine day for a run, Miss Harris. Mind if I join you?"

He pulled up beside her, coming out of nowhere. She choked on the water, embarrassing herself by spewing liquid out of her mouth in a completely unladylike manner. Coughing, she tripped over her own shoes and would have gone sprawling if Phil hadn't caught her in a bear hug.

"Whoa," he said, "are you all right?"

She pushed away from him. “For heaven's sake! What are you sneaking up on me for?"

"Honey, when these size fifteens hit the pavement, I don't sneak up on anybody. I can't help it if you were in your own little dream world."

Maddie blushed. She'd been reliving that darn dance.

She took a deep breath. "Well, at any rate, I didn't hear you. I wasn't expecting anyone out here this early."

He looked her over admiringly. "Great outfit."

She observed his odd ensemble: blue base ball cap, maroon sweat shirt with the arms cut off over a green t-shirt and brown sweat pants.

Looking very serious, she said, "I have to ask–are you color blind?"

He dropped back his head and laughed. "No, I just don't give a rat's ass about clothes. I pull things out of the clean clothes hamper."

"Don't you have a dresser? A closet?"

"Yeah, but the clothes don't make it that far. Hey, I'm doing good getting them in and out of the washer and dryer."

"Well, yes, I suppose that's something."

His gaze traveled her body with an appraising grin, making her feel extremely self-conscious.

She cleared her throat. "I like to jog here when I can. It's easier to get a rhythm going where it's flat. It's very hilly where I live."

He was staring at her now and asked in a low voice, "And where do you live, Maddie?"