Chapter 1

The Lincoln limo and the chauffeur that would be driving it was parked but a few yards from my prom date’s front door. Oh, and I’m Julian Willis; and my prom date was miss all-everything socially speaking, Marian Randall.

It had cost my folks a few hundred dollars to outfit me for this, my, our, May 1968 junior-senior prom. The corsage I would momentarily be presenting to my date alone cost fifteen dollars.

I knocked. It was but a short minute before the older man, my date’s dad, answered the door. He knew me.

“Julian,” he said, seeming surprised to see me.

“Yes, sir,” I said, smiling, “none other. I’m here to pick up my beautiful date.” He looked concerned, worried, something.

“Julian? She’s already gone to the prom with William,” he said. I stared; I couldn’t believe it. I knew who William was, William Carton, her used to be boyfriend. Used to be because she’d kicked him to the curb two months gone having caught the asshole cheating on her.

“But... ?” I said.

“She told me that she’d told you of her change of plans,” he said. I was all but speechless. I finally found my voice.

“Oh, okay, I must have misunderstood her,” I said. I turned to go back to the car. I could see that Mister Randall was eying my ride, my very expensive ride.

“Julian, please come in,” he said, more or less marching me by my arm: his grip was iron; well, he was a big guy.

“She stood you up, didn’t she?”

“It’s okay, I must have misunderstood her. My fault,” I said.

“Yeah, like that’s the truth,” he said. “Have a seat.” I didn’t want to sit, but I did.

Over the next half hour, I got a lecture and some advice. No, that’s not right, not advice; it was an order. I would go to the prom and pick up a girl who was there also without a date, and make her my date: proving thereby, as he said, that she, Marian, was replaceable. Rub Marian’s nose in it so to speak. And, he added, that his daughter was going to be more than sorry for her bad behavior as soon as she returned from her misbegotten, singularly misbegotten, lack of common decency.

I’d, earlier that day, already parked my car, well, my dad’s ‘64 Ford Fairlane, in the lot behind the gym, as had a number of other guys, who, like me, planned to go to one or another of the post-prom all-nighters: the limo was only for the ride to the prom, kind of a bit of teenage snobbery.

I’d still be needing my dad’s car whether or not I got me a date to go to the all-night party with. I had gotten us, Marian and I, an invitation to Phyllis Schroeder’s do. I don’t think Phyllis’d be minding if my hoped-for date turned out to be somebody other than miss Randall.

I was still holding the corsage I’d purchased; well, my dad had, as I ascended the steps to the gym where the prom per se would be taking place. I got lucky. A neighbor girl, she lived five doors up from us was about to climb the same steps that I was already halfway up.

I knew Ava, Ava Gardner, no relation to the famous actress, had no date. Ava was fifty pounds overweight—my unscientific estimate—and not very popular. I had always liked her, though not as boyfriend-girlfriend material. We were both seniors and at that moment, both dateless. Well, I wasn’t exactly mister popular either.

The fact was that Marian Randall only paid attention to me in school because I would do what she said when she said to do it. I knew it and I dealt with it. It was what it was. She was one of those people that other people referred to as an A-listers.

I waited for Ava to catch up with me on the steps.

“What?” she said, as she came up to where I was waiting.

“You’re my date tonight, right?” I said. I was smiling, sort of.

“Huh?” I handed her the corsage, well I kinda extended to her. My raised eyebrow got me a smile.

“Okay,” she said. She waited while I pinned it on her formal.

The gym was full and so were most of the tables. Ava and I were able to find a couple of seats on the far side of the gym. I hadn’t spotted my previously supposed date yet, but the truth was, I didn’t really care. Ava may not have been the beauty queen that Marian was, but with any kind of luck I figured with Ava on my arm I’d be having a deal more fun anyway. I silently wished good luck to good old William.

Ava and I had danced two times before I spotted them. The good news was they spotted me and Ava at the same time. I smiled and waved. Marian turned away from me. She was clearly embarrassed. It occurred to me that she likely didn’t think that I would even come. Women, couldn’t trust ‘em or figure ‘em out worth a darn; well, I couldn’t.

It was getting latish before the enemy made any attempt to talk to me. I was getting Ava and I some more punch, and yes, I do think that somebody had messed with it, rum maybe, but that was just a guess.

“I guess I owe you an apology,” said Marian, coming up to me. I turned to look at her. I smiled.

“No problem, I got me a better date,” I said. She frowned.

“That’s not a very nice thing to say,” she said.

“Really,” I said. “Nevertheless, it’s a true thing. You know better than somebody who lies.”

“Well, screw you,” she said. “And your girlfriend is fat!”

“Back atcha, and yes, maybe, but not fat headed,” I said. Jesus I was feeling good.

The irony in that was the truth that it was her daddy that had advised me to look elsewhere for a girl. His advice had somehow caused me to have a deal more self-confidence than might have been.

She stormed off to find her date. She found him. I saw her find him as I was walking back to Ava. He was dancing with another girl. Talk about serendipitous situations.

Chapter 2 »