Elmore Leonard - The Big Bounce

When she got home, she would turn on one lamp and the record player and watch Jackie lead up to it. He would probably be very quiet and move slowly but not waste much time, either. Maybe they should go for a swim first, with nothing on: the ultimate test of how poised he really was.

Nancy climbed the stairs to the front lawn. The pool did look sexy with the underwater lights turning the water green. If she knew for sure he was here watching, she could give him a little preview before the main feature. There were no lights on in the living room. Of course not, he’d be sitting on the couch in the dark, with a good view of the front lawn and the pool, going over his nifty remark and the way he’d say it. He could be watching her right now.

He was watching her; she could feel it.

Nancy walked to the edge of the pool. She took off her sneakers and dipped one foot into the water. She peeled off the tan sweater and shook her hair. She unbuttoned her blouse and felt the water again with her toes, taking her time. He would be on the edge of the couch now. As she took the blouse off he would see she wasn’t wearing a bra and that would bring him out of his seat. Okay, Jackie, Nancy thought, get ready. She unbuttoned her shorts and peeled to bare hips. Give him a little, Nancy thought. She turned slowly toward the house with her hands on her hips. She turned back, just as slowly, and dove in.

She swam across the pool underwater, came up, went down again, and pushed off against the side. In the middle of the pool she came to the surface and swam to the deep end with slow, easy strokes. To the shallow end and back would give him time to come down to the pool. She made her turn and stroked leisurely toward the diving board and now saw the figure coming out from the house, out of the deep shadow of the patio. She dove underwater, giving him time to reach the edge, and came up breaking the water smoothly, seeing the beer case he was carrying at his side, wondering why he had brought out a whole case of beer and realizing in the same moment that it wasn’t Jack Ryan, that it was a man she had never seen before, a dark figure standing now at the edge of darkness, the lights of the swimming pool reflecting on his sunglasses.

“Hey, come out of there.” Frank Pizarro grinned. “I got something for you.”

Nancy stared up at him, one hand on the pool edge. “Get out,” she said.

“Listen, don’t yell or scream or nothing, okay?”

“Mr. Ritchie has private police who come by here and I think it’s just about time-”

“They come see you swimming like that, uh? Goddamn,” Pizarro said. “I don’t blame them.”

“Tell me what you want,” Nancy said. “And then leave.”

“I got something to sell you.”

“You’re trespassing,” Nancy said. “You’re wasting your time and mine and if you’re still here when the police come, you’re going to have a very hard time explaining it. They’ll arrest you and put you in jail without asking questions. Just your being here will be enough to convict you.”

Pizarro waited patiently. “It’s wallets,” he said.

“What?”

“It’s wallets. I got some wallets I sell you for five hunnert dollar.”

Nancy hesitated. He could be high on something or he could be psycho. She said quietly, “I don’t need a wallet, so will you go, please?”

Pizarro shrugged. “It’s okay. You don’t want these wallets, then I got to take them to the goddamn police.” He set the beer case close to the edge and kneeled on it, hunching down closer to her. “These wallets come from a place that was robbed. You understand?”

She had decided there was no sense in trying to understand him; but she wasn’t sure what to say to threaten him, to make him leave. She said, “Yes, you should take them to the police. They’ll appreciate your help.”

“Sure,” Pizarro said, “I can tell them who stole the wallets. Or I can leave the case somewhere the police will find it. With the name of the person written down inside.” Pizarro watched her. “You know what I mean?”

“I know the private police should be here any minute-”

“Hey,” Pizarro said. “No more bullshit about the private police, all right? I been here three hours waiting and this private police you got never come by.” Pizarro grinned, trying to see her clearly through the distortion of the water. “Come out of there, okay,” he said. “So I can tell you something.”

VIRGINIA MURRAY WISHED THE WIRE or whatever it was in the bra didn’t dig into her chest the way it did. She loved the aqua bathing suit. It was neat with the white buttons down the front; it made her look trim. But it was so darned uncomfortable. The edge of the bra support, which curved beneath her right arm, dug in and left a welt you could feel. (The first time she felt it, the first day here, she was scared to death, because when her fingers touched the welt, she thought it was a lump in her breast.) The trouble was, the only other bathing suit she had was the green and yellow print, and with the skirt effect it made her look hippy.

She had already eaten breakfast. She had written to her mother and dad: “Can’t believe it’s Thursday already and almost time to come home. The past two weeks have gone by so fast. Whew! Will leave Saturday morning about ten or so (no hurry) and should be home before two. I miss both of you very much.”

She had combed out her hair, put on the aqua bathing suit, and combed her hair again. She had taken her position on the studio couch to watch the morning begin and had looked through the new Cosmopolitan , which, she had a feeling, was getting awfully sexy lately.

Virginia was surprised when Mr. Majestyk came out to skim the pool instead of Jack Ryan. It was the first morning this week he had not come out about 9:15 or 9:20 with the aluminum pole.

He was probably doing something else. Perhaps raking the beach.

She could walk down to the beach, but if she did, she would have to stay at least for a short while and she didn’t like to lie in the sand, even on a beach towel. It was too hot and she would feel herself perspire. It was strange, though, she had pictured herself with Jack Ryan on the beach. Yes, because she pictured them alone. It was late afternoon and she was lying on her back with her eyes closed beneath her sunglasses, very tan, with the straps of the aqua bathing suit unfastened and off her shoulders. She felt someone near her, she sensed it, and opened her eyes to see Jack Ryan standing over her. She looked up at him calmly, past the muscular curve of his naked chest. Finally he said, “Do you mind if I join you?” She told him please do. He dropped to his knees and she sat up, holding the front of her bathing suit against her chest. While they talked about nothing in particular she could feel that he wanted to tell her something. After a while they swam out into Lake Huron together, side by side, stroke for stroke; out about a half mile they rested and came back in.

They would take her car and go down the beach to a restaurant that looked out over the water and have broiled lake trout and white wine and watch the sun go down. On the way home he would try to tell her. He would sound awkward because he had never tried to express the way he felt. He had never met a girl like her. The girls he knew were out for whatever they could get. But she was different. She was, well, kind. Nice. No, not just nice, more than that. She made him feel, you know, good . Virginia would smile, not laughing at him, but warmly and say, “That’s kind of you, but, really, I’m a very normal everyday sort of girl with no special talents or desires.” He would say, “Well, what is it, then?” And she would say, “Perhaps the secret is that I see goodness in people, which is really God’s love, you know, something everyone can discover in himself”-smiling then a little sadly-“if he would only take the time to look.”