"Oh, come on, honey. You know you want me as much as I do you. There's no one to see us but the old man in the moon-and he won't tell anyone." His hands moved caressingly. "You do want me ... don't you?"
"Y-yes, I guess I do, but-"
"Of course you do, and what's the harm?" he whispered persuasively. "Please, baby, just this once. No one will know."
He waited confidently, sure she was his for the taking. But when she spoke it was the last thing in the world he expected.
"Lucky," she said softly, her voice blurring just a little, "let's get married."
For the first time in his life Lucky Lucas was taken aback. He felt for a moment like someone had landed a blow in his solar plexus, but only for a moment. He thought quickly, and realized that Lady Luck had just smiled again on her favorite son.
"Golly, Clarice," he said humbly, "would you really marry me?...."
CHAPTER ONE
His name was Harry Lucas but they called him Lucky. And lucky he was. Lucky at cards, lucky with women, lucky with everything he touched.
Of course, all of it wasn't just luck.
Lucky was a likeable sort of fellow, and his charm was undeniable. He was attractive, not in a conventional sort of way, not just with run of the mill good looks, but with an intriguingly different personality that was attractive to both male and female.
He wasn't especially good looking. He was rather slightly built, not too tall, but nicely proportioned. He had eyes that were very blue and could be soft or piercing as the occasion called for. His hair was black with a streak of white down the middle and it gave him an oddly debonair look. He walked with a jaunty air of self-confidence that was appealing rather than obnoxious.
A lot of Lucky's charm was natural, but a substantial part of it was calculated. Very early in life he learned that a pleasing personality was one of the most important things in the world, especially if you wanted to be a success.
And Lucky Lucas intended to be a success.
When Lucky was very small he learned what hard times were like. He lived with his mother, and, while she was good to him, things never seemed quite right. He wondered about the fact that other children had a mother and a father, too.
When he was old enough to understand about such things she stopped putting him off with stories that his daddy was away, telling him instead that his father had deserted her before he was born. He had gone away with another woman, she said, and left her to shift for herself and the baby as best she could. Just once she showed him a picture of his father. She did it only because he had begged her to tell him about his father, and she never showed it to him again. He didn't ask her to. He didn't have to, because the cleverness that was to become so much a part of his character was already beginning to develop.
He waited until she had gone to work and found the picture himself. He looked at it awhile and then put it back, exactly where he had found it. He took it out and looked at it often. He wanted to memorize that face.
There was a good reason that Lucky wanted to remember his father's face. Every time there was something he needed or wanted that there wasn't enough money for him to have, he went to his mother's room and got out the picture.
It's your fault, his child's mind would reason, your fault and hers.
He pictured the woman his father had run away with as a cross between a witch and a vamp, some sort of Lorelei that had lured his father away with irresistable magic powers. Someday he would find his father and this woman. And he'd make them suffer for the hurt they had caused him.
His mother, he knew, was bitter and disillusioned. As he grew older she told him over and over how she wanted him to make something of himself, to be completely self-reliant.
"Don't trust anyone too far, son," she would tell him. "Remember that the only person that has your interests at heart is you. Pick out what you want to be. Hitch your wagon to a star. Choose your goal and let nothing stand in your way. You're a clever boy, Lucky, and you can do anything you set out to do, but only if you put it first, above everything else."
So Lucky Lucas looked for a goal, a star to hitch his wagon to. What, he asked himself, did he want most? Well, all his life he had been poor. So he want-money, lots of it.
But money alone wasn't enough. Somehow, someday, he had the vague idea of finding his father and wreaking vengeance on him for what he had done to his life and his mother's. It was vague because he didn't know how he was going to do it, but do it he would. Added to wealth, then, he wanted power. So this was the star he chose, wealth and power. And from that moment on he worked toward this goal.
Charm, Lucky decided, was one of the important ingredients of success. So Lucky Lucas worked twenty-four hours a day at being charming.
It was a calculated charm, but none the less attractive. Everyone liked him, which was exactly as he planned it. Whenever he could do a favor for someone he did it cheerfully, then filed it away in his brain for possible use at some future date.
Everything Lucky did was part of his long range plans for the future, but he managed to have a lot of fun along the way.
He learned to smoke early because he had observed that cigarettes seemed to have a calming effect on nerves, and holding a cigarette gave you something to do with your hands, thereby eliminating many nervous gestures. He also observed that a drink in the hand could make a situation more sociable and friendly and that liquor in moderation could be useful. He made sure that he was master over both liquor and cigarettes.
Sex was something else.
He had, as a very small boy, at least the normal amount of interest in the difference between little girls and little boys. At the tender age of five he wheedled one of the little girls in his kindergarten class into showing him the difference, and even then the whole thing was fascinating. He liked girls and girls liked him and he thought it was a very satisfactory arrangement.
He was still in grade school when he had his first real sexual experience, and he found the whole thing quite delightful. He soon learned that there were girls who regarded sex as a commodity to be bargained with, and he was more than ever determined to someday be rich and powerful. He had visions of himself as a gay bachelor surrounded with beautiful girls, all of whom were ready to head for the bedroom at the wink of his eye.
If Lucky's mother knew these things she gave no sign. She encouraged him to be ambitious and watched his report cards carefully. She was determined that he have a good education, and if his grades came down even slightly he knew he had better have a good excuse. He was allowed to date as often as he wished, but only so long as his grades didn't suffer. She seemed-to regard his interest in girls as natural. In fact she was rather proud of his success with them and with his increasing popularity.
She didn't know, of course, just how successful he was. By the time he was sixteen he had made every girl in town that was willing and had persuaded some that weren't. He had no romantic interest in any particular girl, since he didn't particularly care who the girl was as long as she would. In short, he had a warm, likeable personality, persuasive ways, and the instincts of a tomcat.
It wasn't until his junior year in high school that his grades began to suffer. At the insistence of his mother he put enough time on his lessons so that all of his grades came up except one. This subject happened to be English and he realized that he was going to have to improve for several reasons, one of which was that it was hurting his love life.
Lucky's English teacher was a woman, and as a connoisseur of women he observed that while she might not be a winner in a beauty contest, she might at least be a runner-up. After thinking the situation over carefully, he decided that this might be the best angle to concentrate on.
Her name was Esther Stark.
Upon making discreet inquiries, he learned that Miss Stark was unmarried, lived alone, and was teaching this year for the first time after graduating from teachers' college. He guessed her to be in her early twenties. From what he could learn she didn't have a boyfriend and she lived alone in a small apartment.
Lucky wasn't one to plunge into things unprepared and he put much thought into the situation before making his move. As it happened, his opportunity came sooner than he had expected.
Just before the report cards were due to come out, many of the teachers kept the students who were doing failing work after school and talked to them, trying to find just what was causing their failure.
Miss Stark was no exception. The Friday before the report cards were to come out, she asked Lucky to remain in the room a few minutes after class.
This, he decided, was made to order. He waited till everyone else had left and then walked slowly to her desk, a worried look carefully arranged on his face. He had been dressing more carefully than ever lately, and today he wore a pair of dark slacks and a shirt that matched his incredibly blue eyes perfectly. The light streak in his hair had been developing the last year and he knew it set him apart from the other fellows his age. He was attractive and he knew it, and now he turned the charm on full force.
"You wanted to see me, Miss Stark?" he asked. Just the right amount of anxiety in his tone.
Miss Stark smiled a little uncertainly.
"Why, yes, Harry," she said. "It's about your grades. I'm afraid if they don't improve you may fail this year's English."
She indicated her grade book a little self-consciously. It was opened in front of her. Lucky walked around to stand beside her. He leaned down to look at the book.
"May I?" he asked, keeping his tone respectful.
His thoughts weren't respectful, though. This is a hot one, he was thinking. The signs were there for a practiced eye to see-the curve of the hips, the full breasts straining against a thin blouse, the dark, expressive eyes, the full lips. And no boyfriend? Man, this was really made to order!
His arm brushed 'accidently' against her breast, and while he didn't exactly look at her, still he was aware that she blushed. She didn't say anything, though. He knew if she dared to she would have mentioned it, but she didn't. He favored her with his most innocent stare.
"Gosh, Miss Stark," he said boyishly, "I didn't realize they were so bad. Do you think I can improve them enough so that I won't fail? My mother'll have a fit. She's counting so much on me."
That was a nice touch, bringing his mother into it. Just a sweet, wholesome American boy wanting to make good for his dear old mother.
It had a good effect, too; Miss Stark finally promised to help him personally.
"Wonderful!" he exclaimed. "Could we start right away?"
Miss Stark smiled indulgently at his eagerness. She had apparently decided his hand had brushed against her by accident.
"We can start Monday, if you like."
"Monday? Golly, I'd like to start right away. Say," he said as if the idea had just occurred to him, "Don't you live over on Third Avenue?"
She nodded uncertainly.
"Well, look, I don't live far from there. If you aren't busy tomorrow night, why couldn't I come over for a little while? I'd really like to get started. Mom'll just die if I don't do something. We can start before the report cards come out. Then she can't say I'm not trying."
"Well ... I don't know," Miss Stark said doubtfully.
Lucky looked disappointed.
"Of course, if you'd rather not help me ... "
He left it hanging in the air. Miss Stark was too good a teacher to refuse help to a student that sincerely wanted it. He tried to look sincere.
"All right," she said finally. "If you could come over around seven?"
"Yes, ma'am," he said happily. "I'll be there."
And I'll have you in bed by eight, he thought confidently.
CHAPTER TWO
Lucky dressed as carefully for his study session with Miss Stark as he would have for a regular date. He wore dark slacks and shirt and the new sport coat he'd been saving for a special occasion.
This is a special occasion, he thought cheerfully. After all, it isn't every day one sets out to seduce one's teacher.
His mother thought he had a date. That was just as well. No one knew he was going to Miss Stark's apartment, and he was well aware that it would probably be better if no one ever did.
"I may be a little late tonight, Mom," he called on the way out. "Don't wait up for me."
"Well, tomorrow isn't a school day, so I guess it'll be all right. But I don't want you to neglect your lessons, especially English."
"Don't worry, Mom. I won't neglect my English."
English was what he was working on tonight. He told her good night and headed for Miss Stark's.
Miss Stark's apartment turned out to be upstairs, but it had an outside entrance. That made it better. He went up the stairs and knocked softly on her door.
Apparently English was all Miss Stark had on her mind. She had books and papers ready on her desk and two chairs placed side by side. She had on one of the dresses she wore to school. He guessed shrewdly that she wasn't as dumb as she acted. She intended to remind him that she was the teacher and that she was going to do the teaching. He wondered if she'd still feel that way before the night was over. He knew a few things himself.
At first she kept the conversation strictly on English, and he had to admit that he really did learn some things. Gradually, though, he managed to work the conversation around to Esther Stark as a person.
"How did you happen to choose school teaching as a career?" he asked her curiously. "Don't you get tired of trying to drum verbs and adjectives into stupid teenagers?"
She laughed a little.
"Sometimes. It's odd that you should ask me that, though. I didn't start out intending to teach. At one time I intended to play the piano professionally."
"Really?" Lucky said in surprise. "Why didn't you?"
Her dark eyes were suddenly veiled with a far-away look.
"It's a long story," she said with finality. "Well, do you think we've studied enough for tonight?"
She pushed her chair back abruptly. Lucky sensed that his opportunity would be lost if he didn't act now. He looked across the room at the piano.
"Maybe I shouldn't ask," he said hesitantly, "but do you still play? I-I'd love to hear you. I love piano music."
He knew immediately that he had said the right thing. What frustrated performer can resist the opportunity to perform?
"Well, I do still play, sometimes."
Already she was heading toward the piano. He put a look of anticipation on his face and followed her, standing beside the piano bench where he had a good view down the front of her dress.
She played then, and even to Lucky's unpracticed ear, it sounded good. She seemed lost in the music. He listened not without pleasure, even though his mind was on other things. He wondered why she had given up her music. That wasn't why he was here, though, to investigate her past. He was interested strictly in tonight.
His opportunity came sooner than he had expected.
At first Miss Stark played what Lucky considered high-brow music. Then she began to play popular music, most of it from three or four years back. It was in the middle of one of these songs that she suddenly stopped playing. She just stopped in the middle of a song and put her head down on the piano, sobbing uncontrollably.
Lucky had no idea what had brought on this sudden gush of tears, but he was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth. This was a golden opportunity.
It was the most natural thing in the world for him to take the weeping woman in his arms and comfort her. She clung to him as a drowning person would grasp at a life preserver. And it was a simple thing to slip from comforting her to making love to her. He had counted on her being lonely, and he knew now he must be right, the way she was responding to him.
"Lucky, we mustn't," she protested feebly.
It was the first time she'd ever called him Lucky.
I'm as good as in! he thought triumphantly.
He smothered her protests with kisses and led her gently toward the open bedroom door. He reached for the light switch as they went through the door. Just before he turned off the light, leaving the apartment in darkness, his eye fell on a clock beside her bed.
I didn't make it by eight o'clock, he thought sardonically.
It was twenty minutes past eight.
Later, as he lay beside Esther Stark, smoking a cigarette and watching her in the light from the moon that shone through her window, he reflected content-ly that he'd been right. She was one of the hot ones. She'd been able to keep up with him, old tomcat Lucas. She hadn't been a virgin, he was sure of that. And he'd been wrong thinking he might be able to teach her something. She already knew just about everything there was to know.
He was aware suddenly that she had turned toward him and was watching him.
"What are you thinking about?" he asked softly.
"I guess I was just wondering what you must be thinking of me," she said.
"I think you're quite a woman."
He thought, but didn't add, that she was one of the best he'd had. The memory was very fresh of the way her body had responded to his.
"That wasn't quite what I meant," she said, with a rather short laugh. "You must think I'm pretty easy. I guess I was tonight. You probably wouldn't understand, but it was something I needed. But, ye gods, Lucky! I ought to be ashamed of myself. You're just a kid."
He laughed softly.
"Look at me," he told her. "Look at me and tell me I'm a kid. Anyway, I'll soon be eighteen. You can't be more than twenty-five. That isn't too much difference."
"I'm twenty-three, as a matter-of-fact. I guess that isn't too bad. And I'm not sorry. Maybe I should be, but I'm not."
"Neither am I," Lucky said. The grin on his face came out in his voice.
She didn't seem to resent it, though. Lucky had never met anyone quite like her before. They talked, then, both of them still nude and visible to each other in the night light.
She told him a little of why she had given up music and become a teacher. The man she had been going to marry had been a musician, too. The day before they were to be married he had run away with another woman. It had hit her quite hard and she had felt she had to give up music.
"Every time I sat down at the piano I dissolved into tears. I finally decided to become a teacher. Tonight was the first time I'd played for a long time. Somehow, I got on the songs that I used to play. They were popular when Larry and I-well, it was just too much."
And you would have fallen into the first man's arms that asked you, he thought.
"I hope you won't tell anyone about tonight, Lucky," she said.
She tried to keep her voice light, but he could feel the anxiety behind it.
"Of course not," he assured her. "The school board might frown on you sleeping with one of your students. I wouldn't want you to lose your job."
After that Lucky's grades in English took a remarkable turn for the better. There was only one more quarter left, and he passed with flying colors.
He never visited Esther Stark's apartment again to get his extra instruction in English but what he wound up in bed with her. It was a purely physical thing with both of them, and neither worried about the other's discretion. He had made the veiled threat about her losing her job deliberately. He was safe, and so was she, for he had a lot to lose, too. He didn't know for sure if he'd be expelled if he were found out, but he thought it quite likely.
The affair lasted until school was out and into the summer, but Lucky's interest was beginning to wane. He was more relieved than anything else when she told him she was going to a different town to teach the next year .He was pleased with the way the whole thing had gone. He had passed English, gotten a little enjoyment on the side, and had apparently satisfied some kind of need for Esther Stark. And there were no complications.
He was lucky, all right.
Lucky had tentative plans to study law. His mother had always assured him that she would see that she got him through college. His choice of studying to be a lawyer was based partly on the fact that he had never known a lawyer that was poor. Also the study of law fascinated him. He figured he was enough devoid of conscience to be a success.
It was in the middle of his senior year in high school that Rose Lucas died. His mother's passing came as a shock partly because it was so sudden, and partly because it left him in rather a bad way financially.
He had gotten along all right with his mother, and he was sorry that she died, but they had never really been very close. This may have been odd, since he was her only son, but she had concentrated so much on making a living while he had concentrated so much on his own plans that they had really had little time for each other. He didn't know exactly why her ambition for him had been so strong, but he was aware that it had consumed a great deal of her life.
He was regretful at her passing, but he had little time to mourn, if he had been the type to mourn. He was immediately plunged into greater problems than he had ever faced before.
Lucky was sure that had his mother lived she would have somehow seen him through college. Apparently, though, she had been counting strictly on the money she would earn rather than the money she already had; for after everything was settled and all the bills had been paid off there was very little left.
Lucky was eighteen now. While he wasn't legally of age, no one protested when he moved out of the house his mother and he had shared and into a sleeping room. His mother had only rented the house and the rent was too much for him even if he had cared to keep it. There was enough money, if he were careful, to last until he graduated. He would, though, have to make other plans for college.
The situation might have defeated an ordinary boy of eighteen, but Lucky was not an ordinary boy. Immediately he started looking for ways and means of putting himself through college.
His grades were fairly good, but he doubted if they were good enough to earn him a scholarship. He knew there were probably ways that he could work his way through, but he also knew it would leave him little time for pleasure. And social life was a big part of his plan for the future.
There had to be another way.
Lucky had known Clarice Thompson for a long time. He had never taken her out-mostly because he had never thought of her as a very likely prospect in the sort of entertainment that appealed to him, and partly because her father was a leading citizen in the town. Or maybe he just had never gotten around to her.
She wasn't very attractive. Her hair was sort of a dishwater blonde and her eyes a rather mediocre shade of blue. She was thin, too thin for Lucky's taste. He liked them nicely rounded and more buxom. Her skin was nice, though, very fair and clear. She seemed to have enough dates, but Lucky attributed this to her position rather than her looks.
Jim Thompson was the type of man who relishes being a big shot. He was president of a bank, a member of the city council, and one of the most influential citizens in town. Clarice was his only child and he wanted her to be perfect. She got straight A's in school, was secretary of her class, and had her finger in the pie at most of the important school functions. He'd always been there in the background and she was thought of not as Clarice Thompson for herself, but as Jim Thompson's daughter.
Lucky had always felt a little sorry for her. He thought it must not be much fun living in someone's shadow. Lucky Lucas wanted no part of reflected glory. He wanted the real thing. He knew this was one reason he had left her alone. Being Jim Thompson's daughter left her little time for being Clarice. He'd have been willing to bet she was a virgin. She would have been afraid not to be.
After so long of looking at her and not seeing her, it was a little hard for Lucky to see Clarice in a different light. But after the initial shock of his mother's death was over he began to look around for a solution to his problems. It occurred to him that Clarice just might be the answer.
He made his plans carefully. He began to study Clarice at every opportunity. He made it a point to be around her as often as possible, and he was always his most charming self when she was near.
He built up to asking her for a date gradually. He set out to make her like him first. This was something he'd always been able to do when he wanted to.
He learned her likes and dislikes. He found that she didn't smoke or drink and that she had promised her father she wouldn't do either until she was twenty-one. That figured, and it fitted in with his plans perfectly. It's a lot easier to get someone drunk that isn't used to drinking, because liquor hits them a lot faster.
The week before graduation he began to put his plan into effect.
There was to be a prom two nights before graduation. Always before he'd had his date lined up weeks ahead, usually one of the prettiest and most popular girls in school. This time he waited until a few days before the dance, then approached Clarice.
It was after school, and he had made it a point to catch her as she started home. He caught up with her, glad that she was alone, and turned on his best smile.
"Mind if I walk with you, Clarice?"
"Of course not, Lucky," she said with a smile.
He knew she liked him, but he wasn't at all sure how much. She was a rather hard person to Understand. They walked along in companionable silence for a couple of blocks and then he took a deep breath and plunged in.
"Clarice, I've been trying to get up the nerve for weeks to ask you something. Would-would you go to the prom with me?"
Just the right humble touch. Clarice turned to him in surprise and the regret in her voice sounded genuine.
"I'm sorry, Lucky, I really am. But Jimmy Marvin asked me two weeks ago."
He said, "Gosh, Clarice, I'm sorry, too. I guess I shouldn't have waited so long. I should have known someone would already have asked you."
A slight emphasis on the 'you'. Lucky knew the ways of a woman well. He could see the dawn of interest in her eyes.
"I really am sorry, Lucky," she said softly.
She was. He could see that. Probably she had never really thought of him this way before, any more than he had thought of her. He smiled at her sadly, as though he were accepting the inevitable.
"Then I think I'll just go stag," he said. "Save a dance for me, though, will you?"
"Of course, Lucky," she said.
He walked her the rest of the way home and then went on toward his rooming house.
He wondered what she would be like in bed. A virgin would be a new experience for him.
CHAPTER THREE
To say that Lucky had no qualms about what he was going to do wouldn't be quite true. He almost changed his mind several times before the night of the prom. He had done a lot of dirty things for the sole purpose of getting ahead, but he knew that what he was planning this time was reaching pretty high, even for Lucky Lucas.
But each time he weakened he thought of his mother's wasted life-thought of his father, the man who had caused it all-and he was determined again that nothing was going to stand in his way.
The night of the prom found him well prepared and only a little nervous. He dressed carefully and surveyed himself in the mirror with a critical eye. He straightened his tie, picked a bit of imaginary lint from the well-cut black slacks, studied the drape of his white sport coat, and smiled with satisfaction. Lucky Lucas had never looked better.
He glanced scornfully around the bare little sleeping room and thought with pleasure that he would soon trade this sort of thing for something a good deal more to his liking.
The lack of a car had never hampered him particularly. There was usually something to do with the first part of the evening when he had a date, and there were plenty of secluded places for the last part. And being the likeable person that he was, he always had an obliging buddy to provide transportation if he needed or wanted it.
Tonight, however, was different. So he had simply used a little of his ample supply of charm and ingenuity and borrowed a car from a friend. It was a convertible, a rather late model, and it was his for the night. He could return it as late as he liked and no questions asked.
The air was soft and balmy and a big golden platter of a moon skimmed across the sky. Lucky drove with the top of the car down and laughed softly at the brilliant moon and the stars twinkling around it.
"Hey, up there," he called. "Keep shining like that, you hear? And watch old Lucky tonight. He'll show you how a real operator operates!"
The moon didn't answer but he thought it must have heard, because it seemed to shine even brighter. He laughed again and headed the car toward the school ... and the target for tonight.
The parking lot was full, as he had known it would be. He was purposely late and almost everyone that was going to be there had already arrived. He was sure he had aroused Clarice's interest and he knew she would be looking for him.
He parked the car on a dark side street a half block away from the school. Then he checked the glove compartment for a reassuring look at the bottle he had there. Since he was under age it had been a small problem to get liquor, but only a small one. He put the car keys in his pocket and patted the convertible reassuringly.
"Don't go 'way," he said gaily. "I won't be gone long."
The auditorium was crowded . It looked like all of the class had shown up, and there were quite a few guests, some of them from out of town.
Lucky stood in the doorway and surveyed the room, aware of the elegant picture he made. A lot of heads turned toward him as he stood there, but he searched the room until he found Clarice. His eyes held hers in an intimate, yet open gaze. And his pulse quickened because he knew he had been right again. Clarice Thompson had been waiting for him.
He didn't go to her right away. Instead he made his way to the stag line where he met a lot of good-natured ribbing.
"Stag tonight, Lucky? Wot hoppen?"
"You run out of girls, lover man?"
"Never thought I'd see the day!"
Lucky just grinned noncommittally. He talked to the fellows for a few minutes and then wandered off, walking aimlessly across the floor. Clarice was dancing with her date.
He waited until she smiled at him over the other boy's shoulder before he went to cut in. He noted with pleasure that she had taken special pains to get ready for this dance. Or rather, for Lucky Lucas.
"You look lovely, Clarice," he said.
He was surprised to find that it was true. Certainly, she was no beauty. Somehow, though, she had managed to achieve a certain chicness, an attractiveness that he hadn't thought possible.
Her hair was simply done, waved softly back, framing her face, and pulled back to form a soft bun at the nape of her neck. Her dress was blue, a soft shade that made her eyes seem bluer. She had on just a little make-up, enough to point up her best features and still not be in poor taste.
She was also, he discovered, a good dancer. Not spectacular, maybe, but she felt light in his arms.
"I was beginning to think you weren't coming," she said.
"I couldn't have kept away if I'd wanted to," he said honestly. "You don't know how I've looked forward to tonight."
She smiled and he pulled her closer. Things were going perfectly according to his plans. They finished the dance and he took her back to her date, Jimmy Marvin. Lucky turned on a friendly grin.
"Thanks for letting me borrow your girl. You're a lucky guy."
Jimmy turned red and mumbled something unintelligible.
Lucky wandered back to the stag line and reflected that Jimmy wouldn't be much of a problem. He was a nice enough kid but too bashful to put up any kind of a fight when Lucky took off with his date. And anyway, Lucky suspected that Clarice had been a last resort for him. He would never have dared to ask a prettier girl. Although Clarice had probably surprised him by the way she looked.
Lucky made it a point not to ask Clarice for every dance, but he didn't dance with any other girl. He danced with both of the female teachers who were there to chaperone the dance, but most of the time he either sat on the sidelines or wandered aimlessly around, making it obvious to Clarice that he was watching her, that he had eyes for no one else. And all the time he was giving her soulful glances his mind was busily going over his plans.
So far things were going perfectly.
As the evening wore on and the chaperones seemed to become less watchful more of his plans began to fall into place. The bottle in the glove compartment had been intended for use at the dance if necessary. He soon found it could be saved for later use, because a constant sampling of the huge punch bowl told him along about eleven o'clock that he wouldn't have to do any spiking himself. Someone else had had the same idea. In fact, several someones. By eleven-thirty it was evident that the punch's potency was steadily increasing.
He knew that Clarice had had one or two drinks by the time he asked her for another dance. He had kept a watchful eye on her. It hadn't had time to have much effect on her yet, but since she didn't drink he was sure it soon would.
The drinks he'd had himself had been very small ones. He wanted to be in complete control of himself, and while he could handle a normal amount of liquor, he had no illusions about what too much could do to one. He looked down at the girl in his arms and she smiled. He made it a point not to be fresh but he held her a little tighter.
"This is a nice dance," she said. Her voice was just the tiniest bit high.
"Yes, it is. Because you're here."
She smiled again, a little shyly.
"Lucky, could I ask you something? Something personal?"
"You can ask me anything you want to, Clarice." He made it a compliment.
"Well ... why didn't you ever ask me for a date before?"
"I didn't dare, I guess."
"Why not? I-I've always liked you."
Well, well! He hadn't known that or he would probably have gotten around to her sooner. It was a good thing he hadn't, though. It would have spoiled his plans for her for now. He tried to sound humble when he answered. It didn't match the way he felt.
"I didn't dream you even noticed me," Lucky said. "I mean-well, gosh, you being so popular and everything."
"You're being modest. You have quite a reputation yourself."
He hoped she meant it the way it sounded. She probably did, though, or she wouldn't be looking at him the way she was.
"Well, anyway," he said, "I'm glad we finally did get together."
Out of the corner of his eye he could see Jimmy Marvin watching them unhappily. Too bad, he thought fleetingly, but that's the way it goes. Whenever someone wins someone else has to lose. And he was obviously going to be the winner.
He steered Clarice expertly across the floor in the general direction of the table that held the punch bowl.
"It's warm in here," he said casually. "Would you like a glass of punch?"
She smiled and nodded, and he left her briefly, coming back quickly with two glasses.
"Hey, it's too crowded in here to drink. Let's take this outside."
She didn't object, so he took her arm and guided her outside through a convenient side door. Some of the other kids saw them go, but Jimmy Marvin was nowhere in sight and neither were any of the chaperones.
Outside the building it was fairly light with moonlight, but the side of the auditorium that they had come out on was fairly dark. Lucky started sauntering on around the building toward the school playground, and after a very slight hesitation Clarice walked along with him, sipping her drink as she walked.
"Don't you think this punch tastes rather odd?" she asked him.
Lucky took a taste of his and the taste of whiskey was strong now. He wondered why she hadn't recognized it, then remembered who she was. He doubted very much if she had ever tasted it before.
"Tastes all right to me," he said casually. "What's the matter with it?"
"I don't know exactly. It just doesn't taste right. It sort of burns."
She kept sipping at it, though, and he remembered that the first time he had ever had a drink each one had tasted better. If he could get her to finish this one drink it might be enough. He knew he'd have to be careful not to drink too much himself. He wanted to know exactly what he-was doing.
There was a bench back here somewhere, he was sure. They found it and sat down. He kept up a casual conversation until he saw that she had finished her drink. He set his still full glass down on the grass and let his arm drop down from the back of the bench to her shoulders.
"Clarice?"
"Yes, Lucky?"
"Honey, let's don't go back to the dance."
"We have to. What about Jimmy?"
"I don't like to hurt anyone either. But we have a good reason."
"What do you mean?"
"This."
Lucky pulled her toward him gently but urgently and their lips met briefly. He didn't think she'd been kissed very often. At least she certainly seemed to be inexperienced, and he had a pretty unerring instinct about such things.
She didn't pull away from him, though, and he kissed her again, this time more lingeringly. He could feel her heart pounding, and he thought triumphantly that the combination of liquor and Lucky were going to be a winning team tonight.
He kept the triumph out of his voice, and it was really no effort at all to sound pleading.
"Please, honey," he murmured against her lips. "I want to be with you. Alone, not on a crowded dance floor."
"I want to be with you, too, Lucky," she whispered. "But do you think we should-"
"Jimmy will understand," he said quickly. "Come on. We'll just slip in the back way and get your wrap."
He didn't give her time to think ... and ten minutes later they were in the convertible, the moon smiling down on them, and the lights of the school fading quickly from sight.
"Now," he said happily, "where would you like to go?"
"Wherever you say."
He glanced at her quickly.
"What's the matter, honey? You aren't sorry you came with me, are you?"
"N-no. I just-well, I feel guilty about Jimmy."
"Is that all? Don't worry about Jimmy. I told him you were leaving with me."
"He didn't mind?"
"Of course not. I mean, he was sorry to lose you himself, but he could see how it was with us. Don't worry any more about it."
He was relieved to see that she took his word for it. No, they didn't need to worry about Jimmy. He had been tactful. Jimmy had been unhappy about it, but he hadn't objected. Lucky Lucas had worked too long at being liked to make enemies unless he had to. And, too, he was pretty sure that all that would really be hurt was Jimmy's pride. He didn't think he really cared about Clarice any more than any other girl. Dating Jim Thompson's daughter no doubt carried its own prestige; but Clarice herself, even though he had to admit she looked rather sharp tonight-well, she wasn't really much of a prize.
In the end they went to an out-of-the-way little drugstore for cokes. Lucky had transferred the bottle from the glove compartment to his pocket, and even though he was taking a chance he managed to spike both of the cokes Clarice drank.
By now she must be getting used to the taste of whiskey, he thought, because this time she didn't say a word about the funny taste. They talked a little, and he held her hand, still the perfect gentleman. He made sure that they lingered long enough for the drinks to take effect, and by the time they went back to the car her step was unsteady.
They decided just to go for a drive in the moonlight.
Even though he didn't own a car, Lucky knew the country well-and being who and what he was it was natural that he headed for the most secluded road like a homing pigeon.
He parked the car on a lonely road lighted only by the moon and without preliminary, turned and took Clarice in his arms. Although he was gentle this time he wasn't so gentlemanly. He began to make love to her, letting his hands wander where they wanted to. And being Lucky Lucas's hands they knew exactly where to go.
She protested a little, but he smothered her protests with kisses, and deliberately encouraged the latent passions he knew he was awakening.
"Please, Lucky," she whispered at last, "I mustn't let you do this."
"Why not, baby?" He held her even closer ."Don't you like me?"
"Oh, yes, Lucky! More than I've ever liked any other boy."
"Then why not? Can't you see what you're doing to me?"
He took her hand and placed it on him. She moved it away quickly, embarrassed.
"Oh, come on, honey. You know you want me as much as I do you. There's no one to see us but the old man in the moon-and he won't tell anyone." His hands moved caressingly. "You do want me ... don't you?"
"Y-yes, I guess I do, but-"
"Of course you do, and what's the harm?" he whispered persuasively. "Please, baby, just this once. No one will know."
He waited confidently, sure she was his for the taking. But when she spoke it was the last thing in the world he expected.
"Lucky," she said softly, her voice blurring just a little, "let's get married."
For the first time in his life Lucky Lucas was taken aback. He felt for a moment like someone had landed a blow in his solar plexus, but only for a moment. He thought quickly, and realized that Lady Luck had just smiled again on her favorite son.
"Golly, Clarice," he said humbly, "would you really marry me?"
CHAPTER FOUR
The night was one Lucky knew he would never forget. Long after Clarice was asleep he lay beside her thinking about it.
To say that he'd had no qualms about it when she first suggested they get married wouldn't be quite true. For at least thirty seconds he had been a little doubtful. His original plan had been only to seduce her, but this was even better. He thought he could probably have convinced her without marrying her; but after thinking it over, he was glad he'd gone ahead with the marriage bit.
In fact, it had been a stroke of genius.
The marriage itself had been no problem. Fortunately they were close to the state line and there had been this town not far across the border that specialized in quickie marriages.
A shabby little ceremony it had been, and if he'd meant the whole thing for real he wouldn't have liked it. It had suited his purposes fine, though, and everything had gone like clockwork. It had been simple and brief and no questions asked.
Clarice was still rather drunk when he had closed the door of their motel room behind them. She'd been a virgin, all right, he thought with satisfaction, though he doubted if she'd be much fun to sleep with when sober. She wasn't the type; she'd been raised by the old-fashioned school of thought of virtue and innocence. Maybe someday a man would come along that had the patience to teach her about life. Personally, he didn't figure he had that much patience or time, either one. Besides, Clarice didn't fit into his long range plans, even if he had really cared about her. Tonight, though ... he grinned to himself as he thought about it. The effect of liquor seems to stay longer with a person who isn't used to it, and Clarice obviously wasn't used to it. Wild she had been, and Lucky Lucas had known plenty of tricks to make her wilder. It'd been a ball, all right. The liquor had relaxed her so that he hadn't hurt her much, and even that he thought she had enjoyed. Yes, he was thoroughly satisfied with the way things were turning out.
Even his little phone call had gone exactly right. After Clarice had gone to sleep, he had slipped quietly out and gone to the motel office to find out where a phone was. There was a public phone booth nearby. He had placed an anonymous call to Clarice's father. It was quite late by the time he called, or rather it was early in the morning.
He almost laughed aloud as he thought of the fury in Jim Thompson's voice when he learned where his daughter was and who she was with. He hadn't told him that they were married, or who was calling, just a party that thought he might be interested in knowing that his daughter was registered at a certain motel with one Lucky Lucas. Then he obligingly gave the exact address and location and hung up.
Now all he had to do was wait.
It was beginning to get light, the promise of the sun making faint rosy streaks in the sky. He looked at the face of the girl sleeping beside him and felt a little sorry for her.
She didn't look much like she had last night. The light lipstick was smeared and the chic hairdo was gone, her hair a messy tangle. The cover had slipped down and her small breasts were bare. They looked immature and, to Lucky, singularly uninviting. Maybe, he reflected, that was why it was more fun to make love in the dark. Imperfections not seen seem like less. He looked at her thin little face and body and shuddered a little as he thought of waking up to this every morning for the rest of his life.
Heaven forbid! But that was the wrong place to appeal to, he thought sardonically. Lady Luck was his goddess.
He heard a car come to an unsteady halt outside and glanced at his watch. He had timed it just right. This had been almost the exact time he had figured Jim Thompson would get here. He quietly lit a cigarette and lay back, his eyes sparkling in anticipation. Unlike most people, Lucky Lucas relished a scene, especially when he held all the high cards. And this time he had all four aces.
He was watching the door when it burst open and Jim Thompson stepped inside, his eyes murderous as he took in the scene, the shabby motel room and his daughter in bed with Lucky and both of them obviously undressed. He shut the door behind him and stood glaring.
Clarice stirred but didn't awaken. Lucky grinned at him. Thompson's hands clenched violently.
"What-what is the meaning of this?" he hissed furiously. "I'll have you boiled in oil, you young hoodlum!"
Lucky shook with silent laughter.
"Take it easy, dad," he said softly. "If you want to murderize me, okay, but not here. There's no need to wake up my wife."
A slight but unmistakable emphasis of my wife.
Mr. Thompson gasped. "What did you say?"
Lucky slid out of bed, and Mr. Thompson averted his eyes. He waited silently while Lucky dressed, then followed him outside. Clarice was still asleep.
Outside Lucky gestured toward the convertible and said, "Step into my office and I'll tell you all about it."
Jim Thompson had obviously not thought about the possibility that his daughter had married Lucky. He was visibly shaken. They got in the car.
"You and my daughter are ... married?" The words came hard.
"Sure. We made it legal. Clarice had a right to sleep with me last night. So you're stuck, dad."
Jim Thompson studied Lucky a minute, his eyes blue ice. When he spoke his voice was a perfect match for his eyes, although his tone was low and controlled.
"I doubt that. I can have this 'marriage' annulled, don't you realize that?"
"Of course." Lucky shrugged lightly. "Do you think I'm stupid?"
The older man looked puzzled. "No, I doubt if you're stupid. But if you knew I could have the marriage annulled, I don't understand your attitude."
"You will."
He paused to light a cigarette. He was being deliberately aggravating and enjoying himself immensely. It amused him to think that he had this man in a corner, even though he didn't realize it yet. He was surprised that the truth hadn't soaked in yet, but the man was pretty shaken. He was obviously still puzzled about the way Lucky was so completely in control of both himself and the situation and unawed by the great Jim Thompson.
"Surely you didn't do this whole thing just because you-"
"Had a yen for Clarice? Hardly. No, I had something more important than sex in mind tonight." He took a long drag from his cigarette. "Really, dad, you disappoint me. Why do you think I called you?"
"You called me?"
"Oh, come now. Of course I called you." Suddenly he was tired of the game. "Let's quit fencing," he said impatiently. "I have something you want, and you have something I want. You're a businessman. Suppose we get down to business."
"I'm afraid I don't quite follow you. What could you possibly have that I want?"
He was beginning to understand, though. Lucky could see it in his eyes.
"Clarice, of course. Unless you approve of our marriage?"
"I told you I was going to have that annulled, and you know you can't stop me!"
"Stop you? Heaven forbid," Lucky said coolly. "I don't want your daughter."
"Then what do you want?" His voice was controlled fury.
"Money," Lucky said simply.
"Money?" he said incredulously. "What makes you think I'd give you a dime?"
"Oh, you will, friend, you will. You know how I know you will? Because I know how much value you place on your name, your reputation, and your daughter's reputation. You see, that's what I have in my hands-your daughter's reputation. Sure, you can have our marriage annulled, and I couldn't stop you even if I wanted to. And do you know what an annulment means? It means a marriage never existed."
Lucky paused to let his words soak in, then continued:
"Sure, no one would ever need to know about it. And I doubt if you'll ever tell anyone. But what about me? I know it. Your daughter's been used, she's secondhand goods now. Sure, you didn't plan on her marrying a-let's see, what did you call me?-a hoodlum. No, you probably had big plans for an advantageous marriage for her. If you play along with me she can still have it. But don't underestimate me, dad. You turn me down and you'll get the works-whispering campaign, anonymous letters, the works. I'll ruin her and you too, eventually."
He sat back, then, and watched the other man fight with himself. He was taking a calculated risk, but he was pretty sure he had the other man figured right, and he didn't have much to lose either way. He had every intention of carrying out his threat if his offer was refused, but he didn't think it would be. Jim Thompson had been a businessman too long not to recognize and rather respect ruthlessness.
In the end, Lucky won.
It was pure blackmail and they both knew it, but they discussed it finally as though it were a regular business deal.
Jim Thompson was to give Lucky enough money to cover his first year in college, plus enough to replenish his wardrobe and general expenses. In return, Lucky was to agree to the annulment and never see Clarice again, and to remain silent about the whole thing. They didn't shake hands on the deal, but each accepted the other's word. The only thing Lucky insisted on besides this was that he be the one to tell Clarice.
Her father was reluctant.
"Haven't you hurt her enough?" he asked bitterly.
"I haven't hurt her at all. She doesn't really care about me. It was just moonlight and spiked punch. Don't worry, I'll let her down easy. And if you hadn't expected her to be-so perfect, just to live up to you and your ideas, last night might never have happened. She didn't even know she was drunk, and I doubt if she knew much about moonlight. She was too afraid to be human. But maybe it isn't too late to make it up to her."
He walked away, leaving Jim Thompson too furious to speak. He knew from the expression on the man's face, though, that some of the things he had said had hit home.
Clarice was still asleep. She didn't look as though she'd moved since they left. He walked over to the bed.
"Clarice," he said softly. "Wake up."
She stirred and opened her, eyes. She saw him standing there and, suddenly, realizing her nakedness, pulled the covers hastily over her, blushing furious-ly.
"Lucky! What are you doing here? W-where are we?"
He laughed softly.
"Don't you remember last night?"
He waited and saw the dawn of realization in her eyes. He wondered how much she really did remember.
"I-I'm not sure."
She looked around the shabby little room with a kind of horror.
"Did-did we stay here last night?" she asked hesitantly.
So she didn't remember. She'd been drunker than he'd thought, and that made it easier. He moved slightly, and she seemed to shrink away from him. He knew then that he'd been right, that it really had been just moonlight and spiked drinks.
He spoke quietly and rather unemotionally to her.
"Do you remember leaving the prom with me?"
"Only vaguely. I remember I felt sort of odd."
"I know. Clarice, we made a terrible mistake. Someone spiked the punch and-well, I'm afraid we were rather drunk. We left the prom and wound up here."
He saw the shame in her eyes and added quickly, "We were married last night."
"Married? But we hardly know each other!" Her eyes filled with tears. "I-I don't want to be married!"
Lucky felt a little ashamed of himself but he shook the feeling off. He walked over to the window and stared out, trying to frame his next words just right.
"Clarice, you aren't in love with me, are you?"
"No. I like you, but-"
"But you're just not in love with me."
He was surprised to find that he'd still been a little afraid she would say yes. He went back to the bed and sat down, being careful not to touch her.
"Clarice, listen to me," he said. "We made a mistake last night, but it isn't the end of the world. I've talked to your father, and we agree that the marriage should be annulled. No one need ever know about it."
"Daddy knows?" she whispered.
"Yes. He isn't mad. It's going to be all right. And you won't have to be reminded of it by seeing me. I'll be leaving town soon, and I doubt if I'll come back. I think it'll be best that way."
"You don't have to leave on account of me," she said.
She was relieved, though. He could see that. So everything was going to work out fine.
"That's sweet of you, but I think it will be better. I may take a job for the summer, and in the fall I'll be going to college. And now you'd better get dressed. Your father is waiting for you."
"Daddy's here?"
Lucky nodded. He leaned over and kissed her lightly on the cheek.
"I'm going to leave now. Good-bye, Clarice." She smiled rather weakly. "Good-bye, Lucky." He left quietly.
He got in the convertible and waited until he saw Clarice come out, a rather pathetic little figure in her blue party dress. He waited until he saw her run to her father and saw them embrace. It was going to be all right. Clarice had lost her virginity but she had gained a father.
He drove away, smiling to himself.
CHAPTER FIVE
Lucky chose a college that was neither too large nor too small. It was only a few hundred miles away from the little town he had grown up in, close enough to be the same part of the country he knew well, yet far enough away that he didn't think he'd be likely to run into Clarice Thompson or her father.
Everything had gone as he had planned. The annulment of his brief marriage had been obtained quietly and, more to the point, the money he had demanded had been handed over and was now in an account in his own name, no strings attached. It would be almost impossible for Jim Thompson to prove that the money had been given to Lucky by him and it was doubtful that he would ever want to. Lucky had no intention of making the mistake many blackmailers made by demanding any more. To him the chapter was closed.
As usual, Lucky made friends quickly. By the time school started he had things well in hand, including a roommate who was well--liked and also well-heeled .
Later Lucky thought that Dave Logan was his first mistake. At the time, though, meeting Dave seemed like just another lucky break.
From the beginning Lucky was aware that Dave was different from most of the boys he had known. It was nothing really obvious, though, for boys and girls alike seemed to like Dave. He had something about him, a certain spark, almost an effervesence, that attracted people.
It was during the summer that Lucky met Dave Logan. Because he knew that being in the same town with Jim Thompson even for the summer would be unwise, he decided to choose his college at once and go there for the summer so he could get acquainted with the town. There were always odd jobs he could pick up to keep him going through the summer and maybe he could add a little to his capital before school started.
He had no trouble moving his few belongings, for he had long since disposed of his mother's furniture and everything that might hamper him when he did get ready to leave. He accomplished the move smoothly and, as he had anticipated, had no trouble establishing himself in his new life. Odd jobs were plentiful. He got himself a day job and used the nights to explore and acquaint himself with his new surroundings.
He met Dave in a park.
Ever since he was quite small Lucky had liked to go off somewhere by himself when he had some heavy thinking to do. This particular evening he had gone to a more or less deserted section of the park to sit by himself and think. He had become engrossed in watching the lights of the city as they came on and didn't know anyone was around until he heard a soft laugh. It was so near it startled him. He looked up to see a boy about his own age standing beside him.
"You look like the king of the hill, surveying his kingdom."
The boy smiled and his smile was so infectious that Lucky found himself grinning back.
"It's quite a sight. It looks like the city's been asleep and is just coming to life. Or does that sound stupid?"
"I don't think so. I like to come here and watch it, but I didn't know anyone shared my secret vice. Mind if I sit down? Or is that forbidden in the king's presence?"
"Be my guest. Always glad to meet a fellow sin-her.
They sat together and watched the city light up.
His name was Dave Logan. He told Lucky a little about himself, that he would be starting his first year of college in the fall and that he lived with his family on a large acreage several miles from town.
Lucky listened with interest as Dave talked amusingly of his family and his life. He felt for the first time the magnetism of the other's personality. It was an odd and unaccustomed feeling, but even stranger was the feeling that here was someone who was going to have a great deal of effect on his future. Lucky watched Dave closely as he talked.
He was nice looking, not handsome exactly, but attractive. He was tall, but he moved with an easy grace that many tall people never achieve. He was slender, and his obviously expensive clothes looked well on him. His hair was red and rather unruly, but his eyes were the thing that held Lucky's attention. They were brown, a deep and beautiful color, and the most compelling eyes he had ever seen. Just the way they watched him gave him an odd feeling. Thinking back later he knew that the effect of Dave's eyes and the way they seemed to absorb him should have given him a clue to the fellow himself and what he was, but somehow they didn't. He only knew that here was an interesting, a fascinating person.
Lucky told him a little about his own life, keeping jt brief and clean. He told him that he came from a small town, that his parents were dead and that he, too, was starting his first year of college in the fall. He mentioned casually that he had no strings attached to him, no special girl or anything, and then wondered why he had.
As he talked, the feeling persisted that here was a person that was in some way going to influence his life. He was not really surprised when he learned that Dave was going to live on campus and was looking for a suitable roommate.
"How about me?" Lucky asked casually. "We seem to get along and I think it would work out fine for both of us."
"I think I'd like that," Dave said quietly.
And so began their strange friendship.
They saw each other only occasionally through the rest of the summer, for Dave was still living with his parents and Lucky was still working. Because of this they knew each other only casually, when they moved in together.
It didn't take long for Lucky to find that he had chosen a roommate that might be the answer to many of his problems. For one thing, Dave seemed to know a lot of people, and this was important. The goal he had set for himself was still far away, a star seen only from a distance. But each time he made a friend, especially one that might be influential, he felt he had moved just a little nearer. People just naturally liked Dave Logan.
People liked Lucky, too; but with him, being likeable was an art. He worked at it, studied it. With Dave it was completely natural, and Lucky rather envied him for it. Of course Dave didn't have the reasons that Lucky had for wanting to be popular, arid this was another reason for feeling it was a lucky break. One of the goals Lucky had set for himself was wealth, and this Dave already had. He had his own car, the best of clothes, and unlimited spending money. And he was selfish with none of them.
The first week was rather hectic and they didn't see much of each other. They didn't have many classes together, and each was busy getting settled into the routine.
Lucky soon found that the school work itself was going to be easy for him, providing he could keep his mind on it. He had dated a little during the summer, but most of the time it had been waitresses, girls mostly from the lower working classes, girls he had met while working himself. He had dated none of them often enough to get very involved, making it a point to keep it just fun and games. Now, though, he was ready to get down to business.
The girls he was interested in now were only those that might be in some way advantageous to him, that might someway help him toward his ultimate goal.
It was easy to sort them out. The girls that were working their way through college, he mentally crossed off the list. By the end of the first week he had five possibilities picked out. Three of them were girls who obviously came from wealthy families, all attractive and popular. The fourth was a girl whose father was a professor. The fifth and last one that he put in his mental file was a little different because it wasn't a girl. It was a man, one of his teachers.
It was only by chance that he learned that Joseph Grady, his English teacher, was married to a socialite. Or maybe it wasn't chance, just his extraordinary luck.
Being Lucky Lucas, by the end of the first week he had a date with one of the girls he had chosen as possibilities in his upward climb. Lynn Jenkins was her name, and even if her father hadn't been a prominent doctor he thought he might have gotten around to her anyway in fairly short order. She was a living doll. She had a whistle-bait figure, sparkling green eyes, long blue-black hair, and an obvious yen to live while the opportunity presented itself.
Dating her had been easy. Lucky sat across from her in one of his classes, and it had been just a matter of slipping her a note after a little preliminary flirting. As simple as that, and presto-he had a date with one of the most popular girls. Saturday night found him dressing with great care.
He was straightening his tie when he looked up to meet Dave's eyes in the mirror. He was struck again by their intensity and the way they watched him. He grinned a little self-consciously.
"How do I look?" he said lightly.
Dave shrugged one shoulder. "How do you want to look?"
"Impressive. Got a heavy date."
It seemed to him that Dave's eyes narrowed just a little, but it might have been his imagination. Anyway, when he spoke, his voice sounded natural.
"You'll knock 'em dead, boy," he said.
"Thanks for them kind words. You going out?"
"Not tonight. I have a date with some books."
"Already? Well, probably I should, but there's always tomorrow."
"Yeah, there's always tomorrow. Hey, you want to use my car?"
Lucky's eyes lighted. Dave's car was something he had eyed enviously.
"You mean it?"
"Sure." He tossed the keys to Lucky. "Just don't teach it any bad habits."
"Don't worry, buddy," Lucky said with a grin. "I shall be the soul of discretion. And I'll be back, like Cinderella, before midnight. I'd hate to turn into a pumpkin."
He knew that much was true, even if the rest wasn't. Lynn had to be in before midnight.
The evening was, he felt, a definite success. Lynn lived up to his expectations in every way, and even exceeded them.
They danced, had a few drinks, and talked. She was a good dancer, light as the proverbial feather. She could hold her liquor and still handle herself well. And she was a good conversationalist.
He learned enough about her to know that he would date her again, and enjoy it, but he doubted if either of them would have to worry about getting serious. She was too interested in squeezing every drop of fun she could out of life, and he was too interested in getting ahead. The evening was fun, though, and he went home sure that his association with Lynn would be profitable in more ways than one.
For one thing, he had learned that his first guess was right. Being the daughter of a well-known man she knew many of the type of people he wanted to meet. And Lynn was the one that told him about Joseph Grady, their English teacher. Me and English teachers, he thought wryly. But he filed the information carefully away for future reference. He thought he should be getting better acquainted with Mr. Grady, engineer an invite to his home and meet that socialite wife of his....
He grinned as he thought about it.
He'd been right about Lynn in another way, too, although it had nothing to do with getting ahead. He hoped Dave's car hadn't been listening too close, because he had promised not to teach it any bad habits. And it might have learned a lot from old Lucky Lucas tonight if it paid much attention.
That had been some wrestling match in the back seat tonight. He grinned again as he thought of it. Now there was a gal that had no qualms about enjoying herself. And he figured that if she had enjoyed herself half as much as he, she'd gone home a happy gal. And the way she'd bit his ear when they kissed good-night hadn't seemed exactly unhappy.
A light was burning in the room when Lucky returned, but Dave wasn't studying. He was in bed reading a mystery story.
"What kind of lesson is that?" Lucky asked. "How to be a murderer?"
Dave closed the book and smiled.
"I got through quite a while ago with the school work. I couldn't sleep so I thought I'd read awhile."
"Not much excitement for a Saturday night, but I guess it's okay if you like it."
"I like it. Reading relaxes me. Don't you like to read?"
Lucky shrugged.
"I can take it or leave it. Sometimes I like to, but I can think of things that I enjoy more."
"I suppose so." He hesitated and then he went on, his voice casual. "Did you have a good time tonight?"
Something made Lucky cautious. Maybe it was the intensity he could feel under the casualness.
"So-so. Nothing special. Just wasn't my night, I guess."
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry. I just wondered how you made out."
"That's just it. I didn't make out at all," Lucky said with a rueful grin, and wondered why he was lying. "You can't win 'em all, they say."
"So they say."
Startled by the tone in his voice, Lucky glanced at him.
"Well!" he said with surprise. "You sound happy for me. What made you so gay? You sound like you're dancing on my grave."
And he could have bitten his tongue off as soon as the words were out. Dave's face was a study of emotions. His face paled and then reddened. Lucky knew now why Dave had seemed different from the first time he had met him.
He changed the subject quickly and hoped that Dave thought he hadn't noticed his discomfiture. He wondered how he could possibly have been so stupid.
Later, as he lay in bed thinking about it, he knew that he had known it deep down all along. The fact that Dave had been friendly with girls, but never seemed to date them, the way that his eyes watched him-oh, he'd known, all right. He just hadn't let himself think about it.
'Gay' had been the key word, and Lucky's unfortunate use of the word had brought it to the surface.
Dave Logan was a homosexual.
CHAPTER SIX
Lucky Lucas did a lot of heavy thinking in the next few days, and in those days he rather avoided his roommate.
Naturally he had known such things existed, were even fairly common. It was something he had never had too much personal contact with, mostly because he had been a lady's man. He was too much on his toes not to know about-it, though. He had just never paid too much attention to it one way or the other.
Now he began to think about it a great deal. Sobn he was going to have to make a decision. He knew that Dave was attracted to him, and being a realist, he knew that he could not stall forever. And he wasn't sure he wanted to. He thought back over his past affairs and thought that this was just about the only thing he hadn't done. Up to now he had been satisfied with his love-making. He was good, and he knew it. What mote did he need? And yet....
He thought about Dave, Dave with his easy grace, his sensitive hands, his compelling eyes. What was love between men really like? What would it be like to have Dave make love to him? He knew instinctively that Dave would be the one to take the initiative.
Lucky had never been one to mull over a decision long. By the end of the week he had decided to become Dave's lover. He had weighed the pros and cons carefully. The fact that Dave was wealthy was one of the factors that decided him. He was an unashamed opportunist, and Dave was opportunity itself. Also, he had to admit, the idea was exciting. He liked pleasure, especially sensual pleasure. Whether it was right or wrong didn't concern him. And after all, who was to say what was right or wrong? He'd never run across anyone who had a blueprint for living. Each person made his own life, his own luck.
So all he had to do was wait for the inevitable, and he found himself waiting with a growing excitement. He made no overtures to Dave himself. He treated him just as he had from the beginning, with friendliness. He did make it a point not to talk about girls very much, although to ignore them entirely would have been too obvious. And he didn't make a date for Saturday night. He had a feeling Saturday night would be the right time, so he left the date open. For my seduction, he thought wryly, and felt again a tingle of excitement.
He spent Saturday evening in their room reading a magazine.
"No date?" Dave asked.
"Nah. Not tonight. Think I'll hit the sack early."
Dave raised a questioning eyebrow, but Lucky pretended not to notice. He read for a while longer, chuckling inwardly as he felt Dave watching him. Finally, with elaborate casualness, he closed the book, and announced that he was going to go take a shower and go to bed.
When he came back from his shower with only a towel wrapped loosely around his middle he felt a strange thrill as Dave's eyes ran over his body.
It was quite a while coming, and Lucky was beginning to think he'd been wrong. The lights had been off quite a while and he was almost dozing when the other's voice startled him with its nearness.
"Lucky?"
He looked up to see a dim figure beside his bed. "Yes, Dave?"
He kept his voice quiet, letting none of his inner turmoil show. Dave sat down rather gingerly on the side of the bed.
"You-you know?"
"I know."
"You don't mind? You'll let me?"
He felt Dave's hands touch him timidly. Without realizing he was going to do it Lucky suddenly grasped the other boy's shoulders and pulled him down on the bed impatiently. He felt an almost electric shock as Dave's lips touched him briefly.
"What do you think?" he whispered fiercely.
Afterward, Lucky lay awake for a long time. It had been quite an experience, and he decided he liked it. The thought that it would happen again made him tingle. He wondered if he were ashamed or sorry that it had happened. He thought about it and decided that he wasn't. He had no intention of giving up girls. But in the meantime, if this made Dave happy, what difference did it make?
And Dave was obviously happy.
From then on, Lucky Lucas led two lives. One life was kept in the room that he and Dave shared. In this room, they were lovers. Lucky soon found that Dave would do anything to please him, and it was a not unpleasant feeling to have someone obviously adore him so much. He was fond of Dave, but he knew he would never be like him.
Outside of the room, he led a second and altogether different life.
When they left the privacy of their room Lucky and Dave acted as though they were only good friends. They didn't go around together too much for, as Lucky pointed out, while they might feel their relationship was right, there were other people who would take a less liberal viewpoint. Dave agreed, although he seemed reluctant to let Lucky out of his sight.
Lucky continued to date but he was careful not to mention his dates to Dave. He always gave him a halfway plausible story about where he was going when he had a date, and Dave believed him, or pretended to. He even let Lucky use his car whenever he liked. Many was the night that Lucky had to go over it carefully to make sure no article of lady's apparel had been left in it. He knew that Dave must surely be aware that he did see girls but he had no desire to quarrel or hurt him unneccessarily. He didn't intend, however, to let Dave dominate him or dictate his life to him. So while he made it a point to stay home several nights a week, the rest of the time he considered his own.
By mid October Lucky had eliminated three of the original five people he had chosen as possible stepping-stones. Two of the wealthy girls turned out to be engaged.
Marcia Gordon, Professor Gordon's daughter, had proved to be a little more useful, but not in the way he had hoped. Physically he didn't get very far with her, but she turned out to be a brain. While he couldn't charm her into sleeping with him, she did help him whenever he got stuck with any of his school work, so he didn't mind too much that their friendship was purely platonic. When he had an urge for something more than friendship he could always date Lynn or someone like her. Lucky Lucas had never had much trouble finding a girl that was willing.
Of the original list, this left only one. Joseph Grady, his English teacher. Thinking back to Miss Stark, Lucky decided that the best way to get attention would be to ask for it.
The class was large and Mr. Grady paid little attention to him until he deliberately let his grades begin to slip a little. Then he went to him after class and, professing much more interest in English than he really felt, began asking for and getting extra help. It wasn't hard for him to make friends with Mr. Grady after that, and it was no surprise a few weeks later when he was invited to his home for dinner.
Having dinner with one of his teachers seemed harmless enough, but it was the mention of this that caused his first quarrel with Dave. He was genuinely surprised when Dave objected to his going.
"I can't see why you should object to my going to the Grady's for dinner," he said.
"I don't want you to go," Dave said stubbornly. "I just don't want you to go, that's all."
"That's no reason. For God's sake, be reasonable!"
"I told you why," Dave said.
"Just saying you don't want me to go isn't a reason. Let's face it, Dave. You don't own me."
There was quick pain in Dave's eyes.
"All right," he said quietly. "All right. Forget it."
Lucky couldn't understand it. He knew that Dave must have a reason. He didn't like to hurt Dave, but this was too important an opportunity to pass up. And since Dave didn't seem to want to explain, Lucky finally left in a decidedly cool atmosphere. He didn't worry about it, though. He knew they'd make up.
Lucky didn't know much about Laura Grady, except that she'd been quite prominent socially before marrying Joseph Grady. He had pictured her more or less as the dowager type, since he guessed her husband not to be under fifty-five. He had vague ideas of flattering her to make her like him.
He was not prepared for the Laura Grady that greeted him. Here was no dowager. The only bulges this Laura Grady had were very definitely in the right places. Sleek, she was, her movements fluid and graceful, almost feline.
When Mr. Grady introduced them she stood a little too close and held his hand a little too long. Her eyes devoured him, from the light streak in his hair to the toes of his well-polished shoes.
"I'm so happy to meet you, Lucky," she purred. "I may call you Lucky, mayn't I?"
"Of course," he murmured, trying unsuccessfully to extricate his hand.
Lucky had felt he could handle himself in any situation, but even he was shaken by the lush Laura. He felt like he was being stalked by a man-eating tiger.
At dinner she focused all of her attention on him. She completely ignored her husband, and he could feel her eyes laughing at him when he tried feebly to include himself in the conversation. Apparently Mr. Grady was used to this sort of thing. He wasn't happy about it but he didn't cause a scene. Maybe they would have one after he left, but right now the man was behaving in a much more civilized manner than his wife.
After dinner, Joseph Grady excused himself, pleading a headache. He looked very tired.
"I'm sorry to leave you like this after inviting you, but these migraines...." He left it hanging there.
"I'm sorry, too, sir," Lucky said truthfully.
They shook hands, and Lucky reflected to himself that it was probably a Laura-headache instead of a migraine. He told them that he had to be leaving anyway. He insisted on leaving, even though Mr. Grady assured him, and not without irony, that there was no need for him to leave, that Mrs. Grady would be glad to entertain him. It was almost as though Mr. Grady was accepting the inevitable, for he left them abruptly. It was Laura Grady who saw Lucky to the door.
"I really don't see why you're leaving so early," she said.
They were at the door, and Lucky stepped outside. She followed him, making it a point to stand very near. He studied her in the dim light.
"Look, Mrs. Grady-"
"Call me Laura."
"Laura. Look, Laura. Your husband invited me here, and while I may be a heel I'm not that much of a heel."
"Why, what in the world do you mean, Lucky?" she said softly. She moved even nearer, and her finger traced a pattern on his chest.
"To go to bed with you in your husband's house."
He might get slapped, he knew. This was a rather different type female than he had run across before. Certainly he was not indifferent to her charms, but he meant what he said about her husband's house. The thought of an affair with her didn't bother his conscience, but it was going to be on his terms. And that didn't include sharing her body with her husband in his own home. He didn't know exactly why-call it honor among thieves-but that's the way it was.
She didn't slap him. She reached up and kissed him full on the mouth, her lips and body moving against him.
"Don't you want to go to bed with me, Lucky?" she whispered in his ear.
"Not here, and not now." This wasn't quite true. He wanted to, all right, but he wasn't going to.
"Later, then?"
"I think that might be arranged. I'll call you."
"You do that." She laughed softly and bit his ear. "I'll be waiting."
He left her standing there, and he didn't look back.
He thought about it on the way home. He thought that Laura Grady might still prove pretty useful to him; but he'd have to watch his step. Playing with another man's wife was playing with fire. He'd have to do a little checking on the situation before he made any definite plans.
At home Dave was waiting for him. He didn't say anything when Lucky came in, but Lucky was pretty sure that he wanted to. He suddenly realized that he might be able to find out some of the things he wanted to know from Dave.
"Say, Dave," he said in a conciliatory tone. "I found out, I think, why you didn't want me to go to the Grady's. What's with this Laura Grady anyway? I never met anyone quite like her."
"What do you mean by that?" Dave asked cautious-ly.
"You know jolly well what I mean. I barely escaped with my honor intact." He grinned and Dave grinned back, a little feebly. "Is that why you didn't want me to go?"
"Well ... you know." He gestured vaguely.
"Yeah. Well, I didn't know what Mr. Grady's wife was like, though. Is she a nymph or something like that?"
"I've heard that. She's quite a lot younger than he is."
"I gathered that. Wasn't she a society dame or something?"
"Yes. Her father owns half the town. She still keeps pretty much in the swim of things."
Lucky was afraid to pursue the subject further, but he had found out pretty much what he wanted to know. He'd have to proceed with caution. Still, it would be worth the risk if she could introduce him to the right crowd. Once he was in he could handle the rest himself.
Later, after they had gone to bed, Dave mentioned it again.
"You aren't going to the Grady's again, are you, Lucky?"
"Of course not," Lucky assured him. "I got enough of that tonight."
No, he wouldn't be going to the Grady's again. But he had told Laura Grady he would call her, and he knew that he would keep his promise and do just that.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Lucky didn't call Laura right away. He gave her a few days to think about it and to make his own plans. He did some discreet checking and found that Mr. Grady bowled every Thursday night.
He waited until Thursday morning to call, until he knew her husband had a class. He skipped his own class for that period and headed for a phone booth. He was prepared to hang up if someone else answered, but there was no mistaking the sultry voice that answered.
"Laura? This is Lucky Lucas."
"Well," she purred, "hello, doll. What took you so long?"
She sounded pleased, and Lucky mentally shook hands with himself.
"Self-preservation, ma'am. You struck me as a dangerous woman."
"My, my, aren't we virtuous! What can I do for you? Or you for me?"
She certainly didn't beat around the bush.
"Are you free tonight?"
"I'm always free, doll. Especially to handsome young college men named Lucky."
"Good. I'm not very rich."
Her soft laughter came over the phone, rich and thick enough to cut. She seemed to relish being insulted.
"I like you, doll. I like you a lot. Will you come here? This is Joseph's bowling night, you know."
"I know. I won't come there, though. I'll pick you up. Eight?"
"Date. I'll see you, doll."
The line went dead. Lucky hung up thoughtfully. Now all he had to do was think up a good story for Dave and wangle the use of his car.
I'm a rat, he thought, but at least I'm a self-made rat.
Luck, though, was still with him, for Dave told him when he got home that his father was picking him up and they were going to have dinner and go to a show. He even apologized for having to leave Lucky alone.
"Oh, that's okay," Lucky told him cheerfully. "I have to go to the library tonight to do some research."
Dave was obviously relieved. He hated it when Lucky went anyplace at night, and he must have been afraid that Lucky would feel the same way.
"Would you like to use my car? Dad's picking me up in his, so I won't be needing it."
So problem number two was solved, too. Lucky left before Dave did, mostly because he didn't want to meet Dave's father. He didn't want to get involved with the other's family at all if he could avoid it. Maybe later it would be necessary, but not now.
Laura was ready and waiting when he arrived at the Grady house. She took a look at the car and raised an eyebrow.
"I thought you said you weren't rich, doll."
"I'm not. I got rich friends, .though."
"You must have. This is some car. May I drive it?"
"Well-" Lucky hesitated. "It isn't mine, but I guess it'll be all right."
He gave her the keys and she got under the wheel. He got in beside her, and for once he felt a little guilty. It was bad enough to use Dave's car, but this was carrying it pretty far.
"Where are we going?" he asked as she started the car, revving it up for the take-off.
"I have a little cabin outside of town. Daddy gave it to me one year for my birthday. I thought we'd go there."
"How do I know you won't take advantage of me? And more important, what if your husband walks in?"
"He won't. He doesn't care that much. And in answer to your first question, I fully intend to."
It was a wild ride. Laura drove as recklessly as she seemed to live. At last, though, they pulled up in front of the cabin.
"Well, here we are. Won't you step into my parlor, little fly?"
Lucky laughed, but it was a little forced. He hoped he wasn't getting into something he couldn't get out of. "And from such a beautiful spider." He followed her inside and whistled. "Wow! Some web you spin."
The place was rugged on the outside, from what he could see of it, but the inside was straight out of dreamsville, from the mirrored walls to the rug that was so deep-piled it was like wading a lavender stream to get across it.
Apparently Laura was partial to lavender. Even the bedroom sparkled with it. Even the satin sheets on the bed were lavender. The walls were all lavender except one and it was stark white with a huge mural of purple violets painted across it. He stared at it and then the click of the lock on the bedroom door made him turn around.
Laura Grady was standing behind him, and the sight of her made him catch his breath. She was stark naked. Her body was sheer perfection. She came toward him, moving with a curiously feline glide. He thought that she moved like a sleek, graceful cat. It was probably the last coherent thought he had.
Lucky Lucas had made love and been made love to, but never like this. It was as though she wanted to consume him, to devour him. He was no longer the hunter, but the hunted. He had thought himself to be an adequate lover and more, but this woman was insatiable.
The bedroom was equipped with everything, including a bar. She didn't talk while they made love; she only made small animal sounds. When he lay back exhausted after their first bout she went to the bar and silently brought him a drink. He drank it gratefully and then it began all over again.
For the first time in his life Lucky Lucas had met someone he couldn't handle. He knew now why Joseph Grady didn't mind who she slept with. He shuddered to think of trying to do this very often. He had always heard that there were women like this, and it had sounded like fun. But now he knew it was pure nightmare.
Lucky did something else that night that he had never done before. He got drunk. When he found there was seemingly no escape from Laura he tried to escape by crawling into the whiskey bottle. He never knew whether he passed out from the liquor or just plain exhaustion.
When he opened his eyes it was dawn, and he had the granddaddy of all hangovers.
Laura was gone. He didn't know how she had gotten home but the car was still parked where he had left it. All he knew was that she was gone.
A note was fastened to the steering wheel. It said, "Fun, fun, fun! Another time? Call me. L."
She should live so long. He headed the car toward home. It wasn't until he parked the car that he thought of Dave. My God, he thought. I've not only stayed out all night, I kept his car.
Dave was waiting for him, pale and worried.
"For God's sake, Lucky, where have you been? Are you all right?"
"Yeah, I'm all right," he said wearily.
He sank into a chair. He suddenly was aware of his disheveled appearance. Damn, he thought. Now he was really in for it. He glanced at Dave, who was obviously waiting for an explanation.
"I'm sorry I had your car out so long."
Dave brushed it aside impatiently. "I don't care about the car. It's you I care about."
Damn, Lucky thought again. He knew how Dave felt about him, but he didn't like to have him talk about it. He got up carefully, making sure he didn't jar his aching head.
"I'm beat. Think I'll have a shower and hit the sack."
Dave touched his arm. "Are you sure you're all right, Lucky?" he said anxiously.
"Damn it, leave me alone! Can't you see I'm dead tired?"
He didn't even look at Dave. He knew he had hurt him and he was ashamed. By the time he had come back from his shower he was ready to apologize.
"Dave, I'm sorry," he began, and stopped short.
Dave's face was dead white and his eyes looked dull and defeated. He was holding the note from Laura in his hand.
"I can see why you would be so tired."
"All right," Lucky shouted. "All right! So I was with a woman! Is that a crime? And anyway, if you hadn't been snooping you wouldn't have known anything about it!"
"It was on the floor. I couldn't avoid seeing it."
They quarreled bitterly. In the end they made up, but Lucky had an uncomfortable feeling that it would happen again.
He did promise not to see Laura again, and that was a promise he intended to keep. He hadn't accomplished anything and he didn't think he'd ever get anywhere trying to. She was too engrossed in satisfying her own monstrous need to care about him personally.
For a while Lucky concentrated on school work and spent most of his evenings with Dave. He knew that he was trying in a way to make up for hurting him, and he wondered if he was getting soft. In a way he was quite fond of him. Still, he didn't intend to give up the goals he had set for himself. He had worked toward them so long that they were part of him. No, this was only a temporary lull until the right opportunity came along.
It was nearing the middle of the year and he began to worry a little about next year. He still planned to study law if he could swing it, but he still didn't know i where his next year's tuition was coming from.
He had discussed law and matters pertaining to it with several of the other students that were taking the same courses he was.
It was during one of these conversations that he first heard about Harvey Fletcher. Harvey Fletcher, it seemed, was a lawyer, the best in this part of the country. Those who knew him or even of him seemed to think he was the top man-the big daddy of his field, so to speak.
It was because of Harvey Fletcher that Lucky decided to see Laura Grady again.
Since the night he had spent with her at her cabin he had carefully avoided Laura. But one day he read in the paper that Laura's father was giving a party and that the guest of honor would be Harvey Fletcher.
That day he called Laura Grady.
This date he handled with more finesse. He knew what to expect this time, so it was he who had the upper hand.
He made sure this time that Dave didn't find out where he'd been. And when he went home he had Laura's assurance that he would be invited to the party for Harvey Fletcher.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The night of the party found Lucky outwardly calm, but inside he was seething with excitement. He had the feeling that somehow tonight would be the turning point in his life. He'd drifted along aimlessly for several months and now it was go-for-broke. He knew that somehow tonight would be his big opportunity, and he intended to take advantage of it.
It was December now, and the night was clear and cold. This time of year, for it was near the holiday season, was one of Lucky's favorite times. He felt now that his mind was clearer than it had ever been before.
He was alone in the room he shared with Dave, for his roommate had gone home for the week end. He hadn't even mentioned the party; it would have brought up Laura's name again. It was just another lucky break that Dave's father had come after him to spend the week end. He had even left the keys to his car.
Tonight Lucky had exercised even more care than usual in getting ready for the party, and he was thoroughly satisfied with the results. The party was formal and his clothes were impeccable. He was more attractive than he had ever been and he knew it. The white streak in his hair was more pronounced, accentuating the black of his hair and the blue of his eyes. The charm he had long cultivated was more mature, and he felt very sure of himself.
The party was in full swing when he arrived. Obviously he couldn't have gone with Laura to a social gathering and he was fervently thankful for that. His invitation had arrived by mail, and he had no idea how Laura had arranged it. Furthermore he didn't give a damn. All he was interested in was getting there. After that he could handle anything that turned up.
He presented his invitation at the door of the Barclay mansion. A coldly formal butler took his coat and showed him inside.
The party was in full swing. Everyone was in formal dress and they looked like the cream of the town's society. It might have frightened an ordinary person to mix with such a group, but not Lucky Lucas. Chameleon-like, he could fit himself in anywhere, including high society.
He wasn't looking for Laura, but it wasn't long until she found him. She was a dream in sophisticated black and her eyes sparkled with excitement. The tigress was really on the prowl tonight.
"Lucky," she greeted him throatily, "I'm so glad you came. I really can't imagine why you wanted to come to this dull affair, but I'm glad you did."
An obvious build-up to trying to get him away early and with her.
"I told you why, Laura," he said casually. "You know I want to go on studying law, and they say Harvey Fletcher is the greatest. I wanted to meet him. Is he here yet?"
She looked around vaguely.
"He's here somewhere or other. Oh, there's someone I must see. Excuse me, darling."
And she was gone. His eyes followed her just long enough to check on who she'd gone to meet. It was a man, of course. He grinned wryly. Maybe someone else would be the victim tonight.
Apparently he was doing all right because no one looked at him as though he shouldn't be there. Someone gave him a Martini and he wandered around, sipping it occasionally, but making sure it lasted. Liquor was fine, but only so long as he kept himself the master of it rather than letting it be the master of him.
Sooner or later he knew that Laura would find him again. In the meantime he just walked around, quietly observing the people and the mansion itself.
Someday, he thought pleasantly, I'll have a place like this. Then I won't need Laura or Dave or anyone else. Just Lucky Lucas.
He was in the midst of this pleasant dream when Laura found him again. Or rather when he found her.
She was talking to two men, and when she saw Lucky she called to him.
"This is the bright young man I've been telling you about," she said.
One of the men held out his hand.
"My daughter has been telling us fine things about you, young man," he said pleasantly. "I'm Clifford Barclay. And this is our guest of honor, Harvey Fletcher. Lucky Lucas, isn't that the name?"
"Yes, sir. I'm very pleased to meet you both. You've no idea how I've looked forward to this."
He turned, then, to look at the other man-and almost fainted!
How many times had he seen this face in his daydreams, in his nightmares, in the picture his mother had tried to keep hidden from him.
Harvey Fletcher was his father!
The shock was a deep one, but it was momentary. Lucky's long training in self-discipline paid off, though. He shook hands with his father without turning a hair.
Harvey Fletcher was a good looking man. His hair was gray. So were his eyes-a combination that was quite pleasant. He had a friendly, open face and a nice smile. Lucky was relieved to see that he in no way resembled his father, though.
"Oh, yes," he was saying, "the young man who is interested in law. It's a lot of work but a good profession."
"You should know, sir," Lucky said with a smile. "I've never seen you in action, but I understand you're the greatest."
"Why, thank you. I doubt if I deserve such praise, but it sounds good. I say, have we met somewhere before?"
The last was in a puzzled tone. Lucky realized that there must be something fleetingly familiar about him, something that was a little like his mother. His eyes, perhaps, or his smile.
"No, sir," he said reluctantly, "I don't believe so."
"Umm. Maybe you just remind me of someone I've known at some time or another."
"I'm sure that must be it, sir," Lucky said, glad he could keep the irony out of his voice.
A woman joined them then, and Lucky got his second shock of the evening.
"Darling," Harvey Fletcher said, his adoration obvious, "I want you to meet someone. "This is Lucky Lucas, the young man Laura has been telling us so much about. Lucky, this is my wife."
She couldn't have been over thirty-five or forty at the most. And she didn't even remotely fit the mental picture he had long ago formed of the woman his father had preferred to his mother. This woman didn't look like the loose sort of woman, the seductive witch that had lured his father away. She looked clean and wholesome and altogether nice. She was pretty, but not beautiful.
All kinds of wild plans had been chasing each other through his mind, including seducing his father's wife, even if she were a hag. A hag she was not, but now that he had seen her he couldn't imagine making a pass at her.
Still, he took her hand and gave her his best smile. "I'm very pleased to meet you, Mrs. Fletcher."
The words didn't stick in his throat and he didn't mind the touch of her hand. Still, he made his escape as soon as he could.
He resumed his wandering and his thinking, but this time his thinking was along a different line. Seeing his father here had been a shock, but his mind began immediately to reason it out.
He realized that it really wasn't as much of a coincidence as he had first thought. After all, this town was only a few hundred miles from where he had grown up. It wasn't too unreasonable that his mother hadn't gone more distance than that. Hadn't he himself thought that this was far enough away from Clarice and Jim Thompson? Maybe she had had hopes at first of getting him back. And after she had established herself, made roots for herself and her young son, perhaps she had felt it as well just to stay, drifting with the tide of life.
This part he thought over and dismissed from his mind. Now there only remained what he was going to do. That part wasn't so easy. The worst part of it was that he thought he could learn to like Harvey Fletcher and his wife.
Then he thought about his mother-the way they had had to struggle-and it all came back, the bitterness and the determination. To seek revenge would be the only way he could ever keep faith with himself. Now there only remained to find a suitable way to get that revenge.
Having decided what he was going to do, although he still didn't know how he was going to do it, Lucky came back to the present and joined the party. He had a couple of drinks to celebrate his decision as well as his discovery. He didn't even try to avoid Laura Grady. In fact, he was in such high spirits that he didn't even care when he felt her hand on his arm and her voice purring into his ear.
"Well, Lucky, did you enjoy meeting the great Harvey Fletcher?"
Lucky grinned. "That's the understatement of the year. It was one of the highlights of my life."
"Oh? I thought I was the highlight of your life," she said mockingly.
"Oh, you are, baby, you are."
Harmless banter, because tonight he didn't intend to be caught in the spider's web. There were plenty of other men here, and a woman like Laura could always find suitable entertainment. Then he came to attention as he suddenly realized Laura had been speaking.
"What did you say?" he asked. "I'm afraid I wasn't being very polite."
"I said, have you met Harvey's daughter?"
"I didn't know he had a daughter." He looked around, which was ridiculous because he hadn't the foggiest notion of what she looked like. "Is she here?"
"Over there."
He followed her eyes and looked at the girl she was pointing out. She looked nothing like Harvey Fletcher or her mother either. She was a cool, Nordic-type blonde, slim and self-possessed. He didn't realize how hard he was staring until he heard Laura's soft laugh.
"Don't get excited, doll," she said. "She's not your type."
"You have a nasty mind. My intentions are strictly noble."
He said it rather absently, but it was true. After all, what kind of thoughts could you think about your sister?
He kept his eye on the little blonde and waited for Laura to drift away. She did eventually, and he moved casually closer to the girl.
My sister, he thought. It was a strange feeling, strange and unreal.
He realized that an orchestra had begun to play a soft dreamy tune and that some of the guests were dancing. The blonde was alone.
He walked over to her with sudden decision.
"Miss Fletcher?" he asked with his number one smile. "May I have this dance?"
She smiled, and it was like a cool spring breeze.
"No to the first question, yes to the second."
They moved onto the floor, and she melted into his arms like she belonged there.
"I must have been misinformed. I understood you were Harvey Fletcher's daughter."
"He's my stepfather. My name is June Reed."
So she wasn't his sister after all!
"I'm Lucky Lucas, and the first name is apropos tonight. I've never felt luckier."
She smiled and surveyed him with her cool blue eyes. "Is that your usual line or a special one for special occasions?"
"A special one, of course. This is a special night."
"And Laura Grady? Is she special, too? I saw you talking to her."
"Her husband is one of my teachers. I'm afraid I couldn't keep up with her." He thought of Laura's words about her. "She isn't my type."
He held her just a little closer and sensed her immediate withdrawal.
"Oh? And what is your type, Mr. Lucas?"
"Lucky. I'm not sure what my type is. I'm still looking, Miss Reed."
"June." She gave him a sudden smile. "I'm not very good at this sort of thing. Can't we just dispense with all the fencing and be friends ... Lucky?"
"I think that's a fine idea. When can I have a date?"
She shook her head and laughed. "Not that friendly. After all, I just met you."
"And you don't know anything about me? All right, we'll fix that. I go to college, first year, I'm nineteen years old, I'm an orphan, not married, not engaged, and-when can I have a date?"
"I give up. You're incorrigible. Why don't you call me? We're in the phone book."
"Under Fletcher?"
"Yes."
"Fine. Now tell me about you."
"Well, I'm eighteen, and I finished high school last year. I decided not to go to college because I don't know yet what I want to do. Mother and Daddy left it up to me, so I decided to take a year before I started, if I do at all. I may go to art school."
"You get along well with Mr. Fletcher?"
"Of course. He's wonderful. My real father died when I was very small. When Mother married again we were both lucky. He's been better to me than a lot of fathers are to their own children."
"I wouldn't know," Lucky said. "I never had a father, that I knew, that is."
Her eyes were sympathetic. He changed the subject abruptly. He wanted no sympathy from Harvey Fletcher or any of his family. They finished the dance, and he left the party soon after.
He dodged Laura Grady; he didn't want to have to bother with her again. He doubted if he would. He didn't know just what he had accomplished tonight in the way of social advancement, but he had been right when he had felt tonight might be the turning point in his life.
Finding his father had been a shock, but now that he had he was ready for the revenge he had craved so long. He wasn't sure what his method was going to be, but he knew he'd found his weapon: June Reed.
CHAPTER NINE
At home the room seemed too quiet. Lucky prowled restlessly. He felt depressed, strangely alone and lonely. It was a feeling alien to him, for he had always been self sufficient, needing no one but himself.
He wished that Dave were there, but Dave wouldn't be back until the next day.
He went to the window and looked out. It was snowing, he could see by the light from the street lamp. It was only a few days until Christmas, and he thought absently that as cold as it was it would still be on the ground by then.
Christmas, he thought bitterly. It didn't mean much to him. Christmas was one thing that had to be shared to be enjoyed, and he was painfully aware that he had no one to share it with.
Dave had asked him to go home with him for the holidays, but he knew he wouldn't go. He didn't know anything about Dave's parents, except that they had money. Ordinarily he would have jumped at the chance to meet them. Somehow, though, after starting his affair with Dave, he found himself shrinking from meeting his parents. He didn't know if they knew about Dave, but he doubted it.
So, unless something happened between now and then, Lucky Lucas wouldn't be spending Christmas with anyone but himself, and right now he wasn't very good company.
"So, smart guy," he told himself, "why don't you do something about it?"
"All right!" he answered himself. "So I will. Tomorrow I'll call June Reed."
It was still snowing in the morning, but it was a light snow and the ground was barely covered. Dave wouldn't be back until late, so he called June and asked her to go for a walk.
"That sounds like fun, Lucky," she said.
And it was.
He found himself relaxing as he hadn't done in a long time. The air was crisp and cold and the world was like a white fairyland. They found they had a lot in common, that they liked the same kind of music, the same kind of movies, the same kind of books.
"I like my stories to end right," Lucky said. "No sad songs or books, or anything like that. Like the guy in the song, I'd rather think about living."
"Me too. Life's too much fun to think of sad things.
I want to crowd a lot of happy living into my life, no matter how long or short it is."
He looked down at her, so little and blonde and neat, and he had to laugh.
"Such tall thoughts to come from such a short person."
She laughed with him.
"You're right, Lucky. This is such a lovely day, such a sparkly marshmallow day. Let's leave the moralizing for some gloomy, rainy day."
They walked. They talked about casual things. They played in the snow like two children. They stopped once for hot chocolate where even the music on the jukebox was gay.
Then someone played 'White Christmas'. It brought back all of the feelings he'd had the night before. It must have shown in his face, for June touched his hand and he found her watching him intently.
"What is it, Lucky? What's wrong?"
She seemed to really want to know. He thought of why he was dating her and wondered what she would think if she knew who he was. It had been a pleasant afternoon and he had almost forgotten. He thought carefully before he answered.
"I was just thinking about Christmas," he said after awhile. "I haven't any family and I guess I was just feeling sorry for myself."
"Spend Christmas with us," she said impulsively. "No one should be alone or unhappy, especially at Christmas."
He laughed, a little uncomfortably. "Now you're feeling sorry for me. Thanks, but I couldn't do anything like that. Christmas is a family time, not a time to take in strays."
"Not my family," she said earnestly. "They'd love to have you. We always have someone over on Christmas. Daddy says you should share your happiness, not be selfish with it."
"He must be quite a guy," Lucky said casually.
"He is. I don't think he's ever done a mean thing in his life, or anything selfish."
That's what you think, Lucky thought wryly.
In the end, though, he told her to check with her family, that if it was all right with them he might spend Christmas Eve with them. He took her home soon after that and returned to his room.
By the time Dave arrived he was nicely settled with a book, looking as though he had spent a very dull and quiet week end.
Dave came to him as soon as he had his coat off.
"I've missed you, Lucky," he said tenderly. "I felt guilty leaving you here alone."
Usually it rather annoyed Lucky to have him talk that way, but today he felt a little guilty himself. He smiled, causing Dave's sensitive face to light up.
"I missed you, too, Dave," he said. "Although I didn't sit here with a book all the time. I went out for awhile a couple of times."
It was really amazing, he thought, how you could tell half a truth and make it sound like all of it.
That night he responded more than usual to Dave. Later he was comforted in the thought that tonight, at least, he had made the other happy.
The next day he met June for lunch. She told him happily that her family not only didn't care if he came Christmas Eve, but that they insisted on it.
There were three more days until the day of Christmas Eve, and each day he found himself thinking more and more of June. He found himself thinking how lucky she was to have a family, and the thought startled him.
He realized that he had never really thought much about families before. He had grown up alone-, with only his mother for a family, and both he and his mother had been too concerned with their own problems to think much about each other. It hit him now, what he had missed, and he wondered if in some dark corner of his mind he hadn't had a longing all along for a real family, and an envy for those who did have one.
Then he brushed the thoughts aside. This was no time to get maudlin. Sure, Harvey Fletcher seemed like a nice guy. He probably worked at it, just as Lucky himself did. It wasn't really hard to fool people. You just had to choose your goal, the wagon you wanted to hitch your star to, and let nothing stop you.
And Harvey Fletcher, he told himself grimly, could have made things different if he hadn't deserted his mother and his unborn son. And for this he should be made to pay.
Lucky didn't know just when the idea came to him. The first night of the three days he spent taking June to a movie. Probably the idea started then, for he found himself physically attracted to her. If it weren't for her connection with Harvey Fletcher-but he had to face the fact that she was connected with him. She was his stepdaughter, and they were as close as a real father and daughter could be. So he hardened himself to her charms and thought on his revenge.
The second night of the three days before Christmas Eve and his impending visit with the Fletchers, he spent Christmas shopping with June. He helped her with her last minute choice of gifts for friends and relatives. He was irritated at himself for liking just to be with her. He reflected absently on his way home that he ought to pick up a few gifts himself, one for June and her mother, and-suddenly the thought hit him-a gift for Harvey Fletcher.
It should be something special, he thought bitterly. Something to repay him for all the loneliness and misery and bitterness he had caused by his own selfishness.
And it was then that the thought came to him from the dark corners of his mind, where it had been lurking all along.
Harvey Fletcher had caused grief and misery and a ruined life for Lucky's mother. How better to find revenge than to do the same thing to someone that he loved?
He made his plans with elaborate care. The first step was to obtain the use of Dave's car. At first Dave objected.
"But you promised to spend this last night with me," he said stubbornly. "You know I'll be leaving tomorrow night to spend Christmas with my family."
"I know, Dave," Lucky said patiently. "And I will. But there are some things I have to do. If you don't want me to use your car I can walk."
"It isn't the car. You know I don't care if you use it. It's just that I'm afraid you won't-"
"Come back? Of course I will. I should be back by ten at the latest, and that should give us plenty of time for our own little celebration."
In the end, Dave agreed reluctantly. Lucky already had a date with June, so he didn't have to worry about that part of it.
Their date was fairly early, and that helped. It began beautifully. June looked her usual lovely self in a white fur parka. She was obviously in a gay mood.
They had an early dinner, and when he suggested a drive she seemed pleased. The roads were a little slick, but he drove carefully and skillfully, as he did everything. June snuggled close to him, and the thought ran through his mind again that he wished she weren't related in any way to Harvey Fletcher.
"What a beautiful night," she said happily. "You know, Lucky, I think I'm happier than I've ever been in my life."
He glanced at her. She was smiling pleasantly. "Oh? And why is that?"
"Oh, I don't know exactly. It's just that I seem to have everything I ever wanted. And it's Christmas, almost. This is my favorite time of year, I think."
"Shucks. Here I was hoping it was because of me," he said lightly.
"That, too. I know we haven't known each other very long but-"
"Yes?" he said hopefully. She laughed, a pleasant sound.
"I thought the boy was the one that was supposed to say things like that."
"Like what?"
"Life 'I like you very much' and 'It seems like fate that we should meet this way. I do like you, Lucky."
"I like you, too. See, I said something nice."
"Silly. Really, though, do you think two people meet because it was meant to be that way? Or do you think it's just happy coincidence?"
"Well, if it is, I say long live coincidence."
"Me too. You know, seriously, I read a story once that said that each person in the world is born with only half a soul. And somewhere in the world is his mate, the one that has the other half. If you find the person that has the other half you can be happy. If you don't you're doomed to roam the world with only half a soul."
"That's a pleasant thought."
"You're right. It is a rather morbid story. Still, it would be nice to think that there really is a person somewhere that is exactly right for you."
The road they were on was deserted. They rode quietly for awhile and then Lucky pulled the car carefully off onto a side road. He stopped the car and left the motor running so it would be warm. He turned to June and took her in his arms. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world.
It wasn't the way he had meant it to be. He had meant to make love to her, gently and persuasively, as he had done many times before with many other girls. He had hoped to arouse passion in her, to use all his charm and every attraction that he possessed-with only one purpose in mind. He had intended to lie to her, if necessary, to tell her he loved her, if this was what would win her trust.
He had intended, in fact, to seduce her, to possess her lovely body, and then just walk away-leave her, desert her as his mother had been deserted by the man she called her father. This was to have been his Christmas gift to Harvey Fletcher.
But he found he couldn't do it. He had no will of his own. He was no longer the Lucky Lucas of old, the poised and sure-of-himself Lucky who was bent on revenge. He was a man in love.
His lips touched June's and he whispered, "I love you." And it was no lie.
He knew now why he had felt so confused, so driven as he thought of his father. He had been falling in love and unwilling to admit it.
Their lips clung together, and he felt himself wanting her. His hands touched her intimately. When she whispered a gentle "No" he felt bewildered.
"But I love you," he said.
How many times had he said it before, and to how many girls, girls that he couldn't even remember? "If you love me you can wait," she said softly. And that was right, too.
She kissed him again and said, "Take me home, now."
He started the car obediently, and drove back to the highway. They didn't talk on the way home. He was too dazed to think. He walked her to her door and kissed her good night.
"Tomorrow night, darling," she said softly. "Tomorrow night we'll tell Mother and Daddy. We'll be one happy family together."
He floated home on cloud nine. He didn't think ahead, wouldn't let himself. There would be things to iron out, things to decide, but not tonight. Tonight he would feel only the delicious sensation of being in love.
It wasn't until he saw the lights in his room that he remembered what he had promised Dave. Tonight was to have been their special celebration, and he knew now that he couldn't go through with it. It took all the courage he could summon to open the door.
Dave was waiting for him and he looked up at Lucky with a beautiful expression that faded slowly from his face. Lucky looked over Dave's shoulder to the mirror behind him and understood. He saw with horror that he was still wearing a self-pleased grin and, what was worse, a generous supply of June's lipstick.
CHAPTER TEN
It seemed an eternity before either of them spoke.
Lucky stood in the door with a million thoughts chasing each other across his mind. It wasn't going to be easy to tell Dave about June, he knew that. He supposed that was why he hadn't let himself think about it.
At last he moved inside and closed the door behind him.
"Dave, I don't know exactly what to say."
"What is there to say? Your face says it for you."
Damn. Lucky got out his handkerchief and wiped off the lipstick. It was going to be even harder than he thought.
"Lucky, how could you?" Dave said miserably. "How could you love me and then go out like that and...."
What he thought was obvious, Lucky realized. He still didn't know, of course, that there was one special girl. He thought that Lucky had been sleeping with a succession of women. It was only a guess as to which would hurt him the most, what he was thinking or the truth.
No matter, it was time for the truth. Lucky went over and sat down beside him.
"Dave, I know what you're thinking, and you're partly right, but only partly. I have gone out with girls since I've known you, but this time it's different."
He paused, but Dave was silent, so he went on.
"I was out with a girl tonight, yes. And I kissed her, but that's all. Her name is June Reed. I met her while you were gone-at a party that was given for her stepfather, Harvey Fletcher. She's a nice girl, Dave. I've never met anyone quite like her. I don't know exactly how to tell you this, but-well, I want to marry her."
Dave's stricken face was almost too much to bear.
"Marry her?" he whispered incredulously. "You want to marry this girl?"
"Look, Dave, I know this is kind of rough. But try to understand. I love her. For the first time in my life, I'm in love. Oh, come on. It's been great and all that, but surely you didn't really think this could go on forever, did you?"
Dave didn't seem to hear.
"Love?" he whispered raggedly. "What do you know about love?"
Suddenly he was on his knees, his head buried in Lucky's lap.
"Please, Lucky," he sobbed. "Don't do this to me, you can't!"
"I'm sorry, Dave. I really am. I can't change how I feel. I love her and she loves me." Dave jumped to his feet.
"She won't love you," he said grimly. "I'll go to her and tell her about us! I won't give you up. I can't live without you, Lucky. I don't want to."
"Dave, no! For God's sake, listen to me!"
Dave didn't stop. He rushed out of the room. Lucky didn't try to stop him.
A moment later he heard the car take off with a roar.
For one of the few times in his life, Lucky Lucas didn't know what to do, He didn't believe that Dave would really go to June. Surely, after he had gone outside in the cold air, after he'd had time to think, he would come back. Anyway, how would he find June?
Who are you kidding? he thought. Everyone knows Harvey Fletcher. Dave would have no trouble finding her if he really meant to carry out his threat. But would he do it? All he could do was wait.
He prowled the room restlessly. Time crept by on turtle feet. He remembered uncomfortably that Dave hadn't worn a coat.
At last he could stand it no longer. He put on his coat and left the house. He walked, not knowing where he was going and not caring. He carefully made his mind a blank, not daring to think, not yet. Not until Dave-but he wouldn't even think of that.
It was cold and beginning to sleet. The streets were icy and it was hard to see.
He walked, oblivious to the cold, until he was exhausted. Then he turned and made his way slowly home. He realized that it was growing light, and it came to him that he had been walking all night.
A police car pulled up in front of the house Lucky lived in just as he got there himself. He knew, even before they told him.
'I can't live without you,' Dave had said. 'I don't want to."
He stood quietly and waited while the officers got out of the car and came toward him.
"I'm looking for Lucky Lucas," one of them said. "Do you know where I can find him?"
"I'm Lucky Lucas. What is it, officer?"
"Do you know a Dave Logan?"
"I room with him. What's happened?"
He really didn't want to know. He didn't want to hear it.
"There's been an accident. His car skidded on the ice and hit a tree."
"Was he-was he badly hurt?"
"I'm afraid so. He's unconscious. Your name was in his billfold, to identify in case of accident. Do you know if he has a family?"
"Yes. They live in the country."
He gave them the location. One of them went to call Dave's parents. Lucky asked the other one if they could take him to Dave.
"Sure, son. We'd better hurry, though."
At the hospital they told Lucky that he couldn't see Dave, his condition was too critical.
"Please," Lucky pleaded. "I've got to see him."
"I'm sorry," the nurse told him. "I have orders to let no one see him but his immediate family."
A white-coated doctor came hurriedly out of Dave's room.
"Is your name Lucky?"
"Yes, sir."
"You may come in, but just for a moment. He's calling for you. He just regained consciousness."
At the door he touched Lucky's arm.
"Only for a moment, and be careful not to excite him."
Lucky nodded and went inside the room. The doctor closed the door quietly behind him.
Dave looked very thin, almost fragile lying there on the high hospital bed. His face was so pale that it blended with the white pillow. His thin hands lay quietly on the bed, and he seemed very still. Only his expressive brown eyes looked alive. When he saw Lucky his lips curved in a weak smile.
"King of the hill," he whispered.
For a minute he thought Dave was delirious, and then he remembered. He was thinking of the first time they'd met, there in the park, and he had said that Lucky looked like the king of the hill surveying his kingdom. He summoned a grin that he didn't feel.
"Not me. I've been demoted to court jester. That's what happens to people that are stupid."
"No, Lucky. I'm the one that's stupid." His voice sounded far away. "Do you suppose fools go to heaven?"
"Don't talk like that, Dave." The words hurt. "By tomorrow you'll be throwing snowballs at me. Or rocks."
Dave shook his head slightly and a look of pain crossed his face. When he spoke again Lucky had to lean down to hear him.
"I couldn't do it, Lucky," he whispered. "I was coming back. It would have been the same, wouldn't it?"
"Sure, Dave. Sure it would. It will be, I promise."
"Don't kid me, Lucky. Not now."
"I'm not kidding you. And we'll have that celebration yet, only we'll make it New Year's instead of Christmas. We'll have the best celebration anyone ever had, just you and me."
Dave didn't seem to hear him. His eyes seemed to glaze, and Lucky was ready to run for the doctor when Dave's voice stopped him, weaker but with a terrible urgency.
"Say it, Lucky. Hurry."
Lucky took one of the thin hands in his and bent closer.
"I love you, Dave."
Dave smiled once more and closed his eyes. His face had a look of angelic peace.
The room was quiet and still, so still that Lucky hated to make a sound. He moved quietly, hating the emptiness, yet feeling Dave's presence in the empty room.
His own clothes were packed in suitcases and Dave's things were stacked neatly on the bed, ready to go into cartons. Only one drawer remained to be emptied, and that he had left until the last, mostly because he simply lacked the courage to open it. It held Dave's most personal belongings, and he felt he would be walking on his grave when he touched them. He didn't even know what was there. He only knew that he didn't want to open it.
Still, he had promised Dave's father that he would do it, so he had no choice. He put out his hand to touch the handle and then stopped, thinking.
The week had been a nightmare-Dave's funeral, meeting his parents, having to face them, knowing that they didn't know, facing his guilt alone, knowing that he would have to live with it.
They were such nice people, Dave's family. His death had been a blow to them, but they had accepted it as God's will. They would miss him, but they were a close family and they still had each other. There were three of them, Mr. and Mrs. Logan, his mother and father, and Steve Logan, his brother.
His father was tall and thin, like Dave, but he looked stronger and healthier. Years had weathered his face, but not his heart. Lucky had spoken to him only once about his son and he remembered every word with painful clarity.
"He was a strange boy," he had said gravely. "Quiet, he was, and secret. He kept things inside himself. I'm glad he had you. He spoke of you a lot. You were the only real friend he ever had."
"I'm glad I could be his friend," Lucky had said, and felt like a traitor.
Dave's mother had wept unashamedly at her son's funeral. Lucky thought of the difference between Mrs. Logan and his own mother. She was a plump, motherly sort of person with the kindest blue eyes he had ever seen. His own mother had taken life as a grim challenge, thinking only of her son's future. What would his life have been if he had had a family like this?
It was Dave's brother, though, that had bothered him the most. He was older than Dave and completely different. Where Dave had been sensitive, likeable, and friendly, Steve Logan seemed rather cold and business-like. His eyes were watchful, penetrating. Lucky had the uncomfortable feeling that Steve could see right through him, through his superficial charm to the real person underneath. It was as though he were wondering what the real person was like, the real Lucky Lucas, not the charm boy the world had long seen....
Lucky shook himself mentally, brought himself back to the present and what he had to do. He took a deep breath and opened the drawer.
There wasn't much inside, a few pieces of jewelry in a box, a couple of ties that were still in their packages. A few pictures, mostly of Dave's family. He lifted them out and placed them carefully on the bed with the other things.
A paper lined the drawer and he had started to close it when he noticed a bulge underneath. He took out the paper and saw two things underneath-a small package and a thin sheaf of papers. They were written in longhand, and it was Dave's writing.
He looked at the package first. It was a thin white box and not sealed. Inside was a watch, exquisitely made and obviously expensive. He turned it over in his hand. There was an engraving on the back. It said simply, To Lucky. He put it back in the drawer very carefully and picked up the papers.
It was poetry, written in some kind of free verse. He started to read the first one, only glancing at it at first and then reading more slowly. There was no title.
We walk alone in darkness So alone.
The world smiles on the rest Our souls
Are filled with sorrow and despair. Yet on us all
The light must someday shine Before the night.
He stared at it. He hadn't known that Dave wrote poetry. He suddenly realized that he hadn't really bothered to know Dave very well. He picked up another.
You call us different
A freak of nature
The children God frowns upon.
Yet here we are, as all the rest.
We live, we breathe, we love.
And are we less than you?
There were more, all in the same vein, strange and compelling. He read them slowly, feeling oddly as though Dave were talking to him. He turned to the last one.
Love is a brilliance, a consuming light
Now shining, now dimming
Yet ever constant
An ever-burning flame.
My love, my life
At last I have found you.
Now life has meaning.
He felt tears burning somewhere back behind his eyes, and knew he wasn't crying, yet he wasn't quite not crying.
He hadn't realized he had left the door open until he looked up to see Steve Logan standing there watching him. His face was inscrutable.
"I came after Dave's things," he said noncommittally.
"They're not quite ready."
He was relieved to find that his voice sounded fairly normal. He saw Steve looking curiously at the papers in his hand. He made a sudden decision, and held them out.
Steve glanced at them and smiled a little.
"He always wrote poetry, ever since he was a kid. Odd stuff, but some of it was pretty good."
He watched Lucky, his gaze penetrating, and all at once Lucky knew.
"You knew," he said slowly. "You knew about Dave, didn't you?"
"I've always known," Steve said quietly.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
"There's something I still don't understand," Steve said.
They were sitting in a booth in a restaurant drinking coffee. Outside in the trunk of Steve's car were the cartons that held Dave's personal belongings. Lucky's suitcases were still back in the room. He hadn't particularly wanted to come here with Steve, but Steve wanted to talk about it and he supposed it was best to do it now.
"What don't you understand?"
Steve stirred his coffee thoughtfully.
"You. Dave-well, I knew even when he was little that he was different. I tried to help him, but there are some things you just can't change. We talked about it a little, once or twice. I even tried to get him to go to a psychiatrist once, a couple of years ago. He wouldn't do it, and I didn't press it. I figured he would get hurt sooner or later, but there wasn't much I could do about it except to stand by and hope I'd be there when he needed me. I wasn't, and that's that. But even though I wasn't like Dave, at least I understood him. You I don't."
"I'm not surprised," Lucky said ruefully. "I don't even understand myself."
"Who does, really? But I think you know what I mean. You don't look like-" He shrugged.
"A homo?" he used the word deliberately, made himself use it. "I'm not. Or at least, I wasn't."
Steve studied him. Lucky stared back defiantly.
"You mean until you met Dave, don't you? What about now?"
Lucky shook his head slowly.
"I see," Steve said. "Lucky, I've been wanting to ask you something. What really happened the night Dave was killed? I didn't ask you before because the folks didn't know about him and there was no chance to talk about it. But now I wish you'd tell me."
Lucky would have preferred not to, but he owed it to Steve-and Dave, too.
"We had an argument that night, and Dave left. The roads were icy and-" He shrugged. "That's about it. You know what happened."
Steve sat there silently, his eyes watchful. Lucky stared back, but his glance wavered first.
"You're right," he said wearily. "That's the truth, as far as it goes. Only it doesn't go far enough. We quarreled, all right, but it was over a girl. Dave was going to her, to tell her about us and try to break it up. For some reason he changed his mind. He was coming back when the car skidded. So it's my fault. I killed him, just as surely as if I'd stuck a knife in his back."
Lucky stared at the table. They were both silent for a long time. Steve spoke first, and when Lucky looked at him his eyes were friendlier, his voice almost gentle.
"Don't blame yourself, Lucky," he said. "It was an accident."
"Sure, an accident. But if it hadn't been for me, if we hadn't quarreled, he'd never have been out on the road that night."
Steve shook his head. "That's like saying if you'd been born someone else you might have been a millionaire. No, one can control his own fate only up to a point. What is meant to happen happens, and that's it."
"Maybe. Still I can't help feeling things could have been different."
"Don't. Don't you see? Dave was my brother and I loved him. But it couldn't have ended any other way. He would never have been anything but unhappy, a square peg in a round hole. The world," he said wryly, "makes room only for those who conform. Dave was cut from a different pattern. He could never have fit in this world. Maybe the next one will be happier for him. At least I never saw his face more peaceful than it was in his coffin."
There followed a dark period in the life of Lucky Lucas. He moved out of the room he had shared with Dave and put away everything that reminded him of Dave, including the watch. He kept it locked away in a drawer and carefully avoided opening it.
He didn't call June or attempt in any way to get in touch with her. He hadn't seen her since the night of Dave's death. He didn't let himself think about her, nor any of the other things that had been so important to him before.
He didn't quit school, but he knew he might as well have. He had lost all interest in it and the future. His grades began to slip, but he couldn't have cared less.
He began drinking, because while most of the time he could keep his mind a blank, there were times when he couldn't. Liquor, lots of it, helped him to forget, even if it was only temporary. He dated girls, not caring who or what they were, as long as they'd go all the way. He got a second-hand car and drove it with the same abandon that he lived. He was on a fast one-way road. He knew it and didn't give a damn.
But there comes a time when each person must face himself.
The day of reckoning came not too unexpectedly. In his few lucid moments, Lucky knew that sooner or later he would have to do something about picking up the tangled threads of his life.
The day it happened he had a particularly nasty hangover.
The day had begun with an unpleasant notice that unless his grades improved considerably he would very probably be dropped the coming semester. He suffered through a couple of classes and suddenly thought the hell with it. He left the campus and went in search of a drink. Since he felt about as miserable as he could, he decided that what had made him feel so bad might make him feel better.
He found a tavern and had a drink. He didn't feel any better, but neither did he feel any worse. He ordered another. By the third drink he did begin to feel better. He lost count after that, but he thought it was around the seventh or eighth drink that he decided to call June Reed. Why not? he thought with drunken logic. He may have stood her up Christmas Eve, but he was here now, wasn't he?
He found a phone and dialed her number.
"Junie?" he said gaily when she answered. "What-cha doin'?"
"Who is this?" Her voice sounded strange.
"Whassa matter, Junie? You sound funny."
He thought he heard a sob.
"You cryin', baby? Aw, don't cry, please don't. This is Lucky, Lucky Lucas."
"What is it, Lucky? What do you want?"
"You, baby. All I ever wanted, don't you know that?"
"No, I'm afraid I don't. Why didn't you call before?"
"Un'voidably detained. I can 'splain."
"All right." A coolness in her voice. "Go ahead."
"Aw, not over the phone. C'n I come an' see you?" There was a long silence and he thought she'd hung up. Even as drunk as he was, he could almost see her at the other end of the line, little and blonde and neat, and he knew that he had to see her. At last she spoke.
"Are you drunk, Lucky?"
"Sort of, but not too drunk to know I love you." He spoke carefully and the words didn't slur too much.
"All right," she said. "Where are you? I'll come there."
"Tavern," he said. He tried to remember the name of it and couldn't. "Corner of Fourth and Main. Has a windmill outside."
He could see the neon windmill outside.
"The Dutch Mill?"
"That's it. I'll wait for you, baby."
"All right, Lucky. I'll be there in a few minutes."
He heard her hang up, but the line still seemed to be open.
"Junie?"
He heard another click. He looked at the phone a minute and then laughed.
"First time a dame ever hung up on me twice at the same time," he said to no one in particular.
He went back to the bar for another drink.
"Don't you think you've had about enough?" the bartender asked.
"I doubt if there is enough," Lucky told him cheerfully. "Eat, drink and be merry. For tomorrow-" he shrugged. "Tomorrow you may not have the price of a drink."
He made it last, though, and drunk as he was he managed to achieve a certain dignity when he looked up at the mirror and saw June standing beside him. Their eyes met and he nodded gravely.
"Hello, June."
"Hello, Lucky."
"Would you like a drink?"
"Yes, I think I would. A Martini, please, very dry and no olive."
The bartender brought her drink and she sipped it thoughtfully. She watched Lucky in the mirror.
"You were going to explain," she reminded him.
What now? Lucky asked himself. All you wanted was to get her here, to see her. What could he say?
He said, "What can I say?"
She was wearing a blue sweater and skirt, with a coat slung around her shoulders. The sweater was distracting him. She stared into her drink, not looking at him.
"You might start with the truth," she said quietly.
The truth, he thought dully. Dave was the truth and he couldn't think about that, not and keep his sanity. Whatever that was.
He glanced at her in the mirror and was suddenly aware of her nearness. Don't think about anything else, he told himself. There's no future, nothing but now. And June was here beside him, now.
"All right," he said, "but not here. I want to talk to you alone. My car's outside."
"Well ... all right," she said doubtfully.
He finished his drink and hurried her outside before she could change her mind. In the car, she sat well on her own side of the seat.
"Are you sure you can drive?" she asked. "Sure. I'm not that drunk."
He realized that it was true. The last drink had sobered him more than making him drunker, and he was a good driver even when he was drinking, at least when he wanted to be.
It was daylight, but he knew the deserted spots like he knew the palm of his hand, and he had no trouble finding one. He parked and without preliminary took her in his arms. He kissed her, and at first she kissed him back.
"Baby," he whispered against her hair. "Oh, Junie, I love you."
She started to speak and he stopped her with a kiss. It started out like an ordinary kiss, but somewhere in the middle of it he got lost. A corner of his mind told him to stop, but he knew he couldn't. If he stopped now he'd have to talk. The whole miserable story would have to come out. The part of him that had been hiding from the truth for so long drove him on.
His hand found her breast, felt the warmth of it through her sweater. His kiss became demanding, urgent. His hands explored her body, felt the smooth silkiness of her hose, the satiny softness of her thighs. He felt himself burning with desire for her, wanting her more than he had ever wanted anyone in his life. Then he realized that while she wasn't fighting, neither was she responding to him. And as the realization hit him, her voice brought him back to earth with an abrupt thud.
"This, then, is the truth?" she said coolly. "This is all of it?"
"What?" he said stupidly. His hands fell away from her.
"Your great, undying love. Not a great romance, no wedding bells." She laughed harshly. "What you feel isn't love, buster. It's just plain old hot pants."
The words shocked him, coming from June, and all at once he was sober enough to know how drunk he had been.
A moment ago she had seemed soft, unresisting, putty in his hands. Now she was more like steel, the cool self-possessed girl he had first met at the party that night that seemed years ago. She got out of the car and walked around to the driver's side.
"Move over," she said calmly. "I'm driving us back."
He moved over without a word. They rode in silence. She didn't speak until she stopped the car in front of the Dutch Mill.
"This is where I found you and this is where I'll leave you." She handed him his car keys. "If you ever decide to crawl out of your bottle and join the human race, you know my phone number."
And she was gone. He sat there numbly, feeling a terrible sense of loss.
Count your blessings, Lucky my boy, he thought grimly. Your girl's walking out on you, the school is kicking you out, and worst of all, you're stone cold sober. Almost.
Now that he could do something about. He walked back into the Dutch Mill. The bartender eyed him quizzically.
"Back so soon? That must have been a short date." Lucky made himself grin.
"Story of my life. Bring me a double shot, Charlie. I got sorrows to drown."
The bartender shrugged and brought the drink.
"To women, Charlie," he said gaily. "May they never go out of style."
He downed the drink in one gulp and ordered another ... and another. With each drink the pain became less, the pain in his heart and his mind.
After awhile things began to blur and he felt a pleasant numbness. He seemed to be floating somewhere in outer space. He wondered why the little green man behind the bar was frowning at him. He didn't remember having done anything to him.
"'Smarter, Charlie?" He wondered why his voice didn't seem to come out right. He tried again. "Someone jar your space helmet?"
"I think you had better be going home now, son," the little green man said. He seemed to be very far away.
"Aw, hell," he said. "I like thish planet."
The little green man started around the bar, and he looked mean. He stopped, though, when a voice somewhere near Lucky spoke.
"Never mind," it said quietly. "I'll take care of him."
Lucky tried to think where he'd heard the voice before. He tried to focus his eyes, but the man beside him was a blur.
"I can take care myself, big daddy. Always have."
He got off the barstool carefully, but not carefully enough. The floor took off and spun up to meet him.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Lucky felt as though he were in a deep black hole, and it was a long, lonely journey to the light at the top. He made it, though, and immediately wished he hadn't. His mouth had a dark brown taste and little men were beating anvils in his head.
He opened his eyes cautiously and saw that he was in a dimly lighted room. It seemed to be lined with books, and he thought it looked like it might be a study. He was lying on what felt like a leather couch. A man was sitting in a chair by the fireplace. The light was too dim and the angle wrong for him to see who it was, but the man seemed to be asleep. He moved, though, when Lucky sat up.
"Well, Lucky, are you back with the earth people now?"
It was the voice of his rescuer, but he still couldn't place it.
"Big daddy, I presume," Lucky said ruefully. "Did I make much of an ass of myself?"
"I'm afraid so. You seemed to think that taverns were going out of business, and you wanted to get your share before they did. Think you could drink some coffee now?"
"No. But I suppose I'd better."
He closed his eyes. When he opened them again the man was standing beside him with a cup. He took it rather shakily and looked up.
He almost dropped the cup. The man was Harvey Fletcher!
If he noticed Lucky's expression he didn't show it. He watched while Lucky forced the strong hot liquid down. Then he silently refilled the cup.
After Lucky had finished the second cup, he felt better. His head was clearer. Harvey Fletcher seemed to know just the moment that Lucky began to come out of his stupor, for he pulled a chair over by the couch and sat down in it.
"Feel like talking now?" he asked casually.
Lucky shrugged. "What's to talk? But then I suppose you had a reason for rescuing me."
"I always have a reason for the things I do, son," he said.
The word 'son' brought all of Lucky's old resentment back. He would like to have asked what reason Fletcher had for deserting his mother, but he didn't.
He said, "How did you happen to find me? Did June tell you where I was?"
"I happened to pick up an extension when you called her. When she came back I talked to her. She told me where she had left you."
That accounted for the two clicks when she had hung up.
"Okay, so you fished me out of a booze joint. Now what? Do I get down on my knees and thank you for saving me from a life of sin?"
The other man eyed him curiously.
"I wonder why you sound so bitter."
"Let's just say I'm nasty. June can tell you that."
"Oh, she told me what happened. All of it."
"Then why did you bother with me, counsellor? Were you planning to prosecute me for attempted rape on your daughter? Because I sure as hell had it on my mind."
"Frankly, I didn't particularly want to bother with you. From what I've been able to learn about you, you don't seem to have a decent emotion to your credit."
"Then why did you? Nobody asked you to."
"On the contrary, someone did. You see, my daughter thinks, in spite of the way you've treated her, that you are basically good. I can't say I agree with her, but I respect her judgement."
"Then you're a fool."
Lucky got up and walked over to the window. It was dark outside. He wondered how long he'd been out. Not that it really mattered.
"Something is bothering you, isn't it?"
Lucky knew from the sound of his voice that he was still sitting in the chair. He stared out into the darkness and let himself think.
"Yes," he said slowly. "Something is."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"Yes, I think the time has come to talk about it." He paused, thinking, trying to frame the right words. "Mr. Fletcher, would you like to hear a story? Call it a fairy tale, if you like. You see, once upon a time there was a little boy. Call him Tom. Now Tom was not a happy boy, but he was clever. Real clever. He wasn't happy because he wasn't like other little boys, for you see, Tom didn't have a father.
"He had a mother, though. His mother worked real hard and tried to take care of him, but it wasn't easy. He had to do without a lot of things because there was never enough money.
"But Tom was smart, and he decided he wasn't always going to be poor. When he grew up he was going to be rich.
"Now Tom's mother had a philosophy. 'Hitch your wagon to a star,' she said. 'Get yourself a goal and don't let anything stand in your way. Always reach high. Look out for yourself, because no one else is going to look out for you.' Bitterness had made her a cynic, and she taught her son to feel the same way.
"So Tom decided he wanted to be rich, an honest-to-God wheel. That was the star and he really hitched his wagon to it. And that was all that mattered to him, touching that star. Oh, he stepped on a few toes on the way, hurt people. But what the hell? That's what his father had done to his mother, wasn't it?
"He climbed up the ladder in fine style. He was on his way and nothing could stop him. Only something did. He met a girl.
"At first he planned to use her, just as he had everyone else. By this time he had found his father, and revenge was included in his plans. The girl was to figure in his revenge, but it didn't work out like that. He fell in love with her."
He was aware that Harvey Fletcher had risen to his feet.
"Wait a minute," he said in a puzzled tone. "You've lost me. I gathered when you began your story that you were Tom, and the story made sense up to now. But if the girl is June, I don't understand how she could possibly figure in revenge against your father."
"No," Lucky said wryly, "I don't suppose you do. So I guess I'd better explain. When I called you 'big daddy' tonight I wasn't kidding."
He turned around and looked Harvey Fletcher straight in the eye.
"I'm your son," he said simply.
Lucky was aware that someone had entered the room, but he didn't turn.
Harvey Fletcher didn't look shocked or guilty or any of the things that Lucky had imagined he would. He just looked blank.
"My son? I have no son."
"Oh, I don't blame you for not wanting to claim me. I guess I'm not very much to be proud of. I can see myself clearly for the first time and I don't like what I see, but facts are facts. Doesn't the name Rose Lucas mean anything to you?"
"I'm afraid it doesn't. Is it supposed to?"
The shadow standing in the doorway moved inside the room and went to stand by Harvey Fletcher. It was his wife. Lucky took out his billfold and walked over to face them. He took out a small snapshot and held it out. The other man took it and studied it carefully. He sat down slowly in the chair.
When he looked up his face had changed.
"This is your mother?" His voice sounded strange.
"Yes. Rose Lucas." He took out another picture. "And this is the man she told me was my father."
He handed him the picture of himself. Fletcher stared at it, his face suddenly pale.
"I think I'm beginning to understand," he said heavily. "Yes, I know this woman, but her name wasn't Lucas. It was Langdon."
Mrs. Fletcher put her hand on her husband's arm.
"Rose Langdon and I-we were in love, once. I was in law school when we met. She was a student, too, studying art, I think. She was working her way through, and I admired her for it. We were in love, or thought we were. Neither of us had much money and there was no question of marriage. Not many students were married then, either, even though it's fairly common now.
"We-well, we drifted into an affair. For a while it was wonderful, but then we began to drift apart. Eventually it just ended, as those things are apt to do. I was the one that broke it off, finally. I'd met another girl, and it seemed the only fair thing to do. She didn't argue with me, and I thought she didn't really mind too much. I never dreamed she was going to have a child. If I'd only known-" Lucky felt dazed.
"But didn't you know when you saw her? I mean, how could she have kept a secret like that on the same campus?"
"School was almost out when it happened. I didn't see her after that, and she didn't come back to school the next fall. The other girl-well, I can't even remember her face. It didn't become serious and I didn't fall in love again until I met my wife ten years ago."
"Then it was all for nothing," Lucky said incredulously. "All those years, all the bitterness, the way I hated you."
There was pain in Harvey Fletcher's eyes. Lucky knew he must have been thinking about having a son all of these years and not even knowing it. And he himself had thought he had had a legitimate father. The irony of it made him laugh a little.
"What's so funny?" Fletcher asked.
He noticed that Mrs. Fletcher had quietly left the room.
"I was just thinking. It just really started to hit me while I was telling you my little fairy tale that I've acted pretty much like a bastard. Now I find out that I really am one. Sort of poetic justice."
"You don't know how sorry I am, Lucky."
Lucky shrugged. "It wasn't your fault. I could blame my mother, but how do you and I know we might not have done the same thing if we'd been in her place? Anyway, my own sins are catching up with me too much for me to try to judge anyone else."
"If only your mother had contacted me, told me about you."
"Maybe it's just as well that she didn't. You said yourself that you weren't in love any more, that your love had died a natural death. Who can revive the dead?"
"It would have given you a name."
"I don't really know which I would rather have had-an image of a father I hated for what I thought he'd done, or a father I might have really grown to hate in a house without love."
"I don't know, either. I only know that I feel terribly guilty."
"Well, at least you and your wife and June have been happy. See?" he said ruefully. "I'm trying to be big about it. Whether I can keep it up or not is something else."
"Yes, we always have been happy."
"Until I came along. I think I'm sorry now that I did. You were too happy for anyone to spoil it. You have a woman that really loves you. Even I can see that. How many women would have taken what happened tonight as calmly as she did?"
His father's eyes softened.
"I have no secrets from my wife. I told her about Rose before we married. I'm glad I did, especially now. Now that I know Rose bore me a son." He looked thoughtful. "It seems strange to think I have a son. Do you know that I don't even know your first name? All I've ever heard you called is Lucky."
"Mother must have named me for you, after a fashion. Like she changed her own name from Langdon to Lucas, she changed yours from Harvey to Harry. No one ever called me that very much, though. Someone tagged me 'Lucky', and it stuck."
"I'm not surprised. It seems to fit you."
"Yeah, I'm lucky, all right. Smart, too. Smart enough to make a hell of a mess of everything."
Mrs. Fletcher came back into the room, carrying a pot of fresh coffee and sandwiches on a tray.
"Are you boys ready for something to eat?" she asked brightly.
Obviously she was trying to put Lucky at ease. He thought about what nice people they were and the trouble he had managed to cause for all of them.
"Thank you, Mrs. Fletcher," he said, "but I think I should leave."
It wasn't a bid for sympathy. He meant it exactly as he'd said it. He had blown into their lives like an ill wind, and now he thought it was time for him to get out of it.
She seemed to read his mind.
"It isn't that simple, Lucky," she said gently. "You think you have disrupted our lives, and you have. No one can walk into someone else's life and then walk out again without causing a difference of some kind. Because of you our lives are changed, but not necessarily for the worse.
"To Harvey, the fact that he has a son is bound to make a difference. Up to now June has been his only child. When he married me he accepted her as his own. As for myself, perhaps you think I may resent you, but you're wrong. Harvey and I haven't been able to have children, and I feel that his son is my son, just as he feels that my daughter is his daughter. And you know that you have changed June's life. So you see, you can't just walk out and expect it to be as it was before."
"I appreciate all of that," Lucky said. "And I think the three of you are very lucky to have each other. But I'm no good for any of you. Can't you see that? All I've ever done is hurt people, and I don't want to do that to you. I've done too much to you now. Oh, I'm not feeling sorry for myself. I've got coming to me whatever I get."
"I don't agree with that," Harvey Fletcher said. "From what you have told me, I think your mother had the right idea but the wrong attitude."
"Don't blame her. Maybe she didn't start me off in the right direction, but I'm a bright boy. I knew exactly what I was doing. I knew and I didn't give a damn."
"That may or may not be true," Mrs. Fletcher broke in, "but what about June? If you want to leave, go ahead, but I think you owe her some kind of explanation."
"What's to explain? If I told her the truth-and I'd have to-she'd only hate me more than she does now," he said miserably.
Oh, I don't know so much about that," a famil-voice said. "Why don't you just try?"
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"Where shall I begin?" Lucky said dully. He was sitting on the leather couch again and June was in the chair that her stepfather had sat in. Her father and mother had discreetly disappeared.
"I'm afraid I've been playing a rather sneaky trick on you," June said cheerfully. "I've heard everything that was said in this room tonight. I've been sitting in there ever since Daddy brought you home."
She gestured, and for the first time Lucky noticed that only heavy drapes separated this room from the one next to it.
"Then you know about Harvey Fletcher being my father?"
"Yes. And all about what a heel you are. Although I think you are your own worst enemy. I don't think you are as bad as you think you are."
"I wish I weren't. Okay, what do you want to know?"
"You might start with what happened to you Christmas Eve."
"If you're going to hear it you might as well hear it all, and it goes a lot further back than that."
"I don't particularly care about what happened before we met. From what I've already heard I can figure it out. Before we met your life was your own. Now I feel that I'm concerned. So what happened Christmas Eve?"
"Well, I still was planning then on using you to get back at my father. I was determined to make him pay for what I thought he'd done to my mother, and for the way we'd had to live while he had plenty."
"He didn't always have it. He's worked hard for what he has."
"I know that now. I didn't then." He paused, thinking. "Then when I realized that I loved you it changed everything."
"I knew you were planning to seduce me," she said calmly. "But what about Christmas Eve? Weren't you even intending to come when you talked to me that last night?"
"Yes, I intended to. But something happened that night after I left you."
He stopped, and it all came back vividly. He had to force himself to go on.
"The fellow I was rooming with was killed that night in a car wreck."
June looked bewildered. "But why didn't you just call me? I would have understood."
"It's rather hard to explain."
"Why don't you try?"
So he told her all of it, not sparing himself. He watched her as he talked, waiting for the look of disgust to come over her face. It didn't come.
"And so," he finished, "when Dave died it was like retribution for everything I had done, all the people I had hurt. I just couldn't face myself, let alone facing you. So for awhile I lived in a vacuum, and I was still there the day I called you. And so now you've heard the saga of Lucky Lucas, self-styled charm boy who outsmarted himself."
He got up and started to the door. He was almost there when she stopped him.
"Where do you think you're going?"
He couldn't tell anything from her voice. He shrugged.
"I'm cutting out, what else?"
"Back to your bottle?"
"At least I can't hurt it."
"Come here, Lucky."
He came back and stood in front of her.
"I hear, and I obey," he said meekly. "You want to slap me, go ahead."
She stood up so that she faced him. There was a twinkle in her eye.
"Now why would I want to slap the guy I'm in love with? Or is that what it takes to bring you to your senses?"
For the first time since Dave's death, Lucky felt like he might be coming to life.
"You mean," he said, "that you can still care about me after you've seen what a bad apple I am?"
"Oh, for heaven's sake! Why should I pretend I'm shocked when I'm not? A lot of things you did weren't right. And it's too bad about Dave, but those things do happen. So why should you go on punishing yourself?"
He took her in his arms even though he was almost afraid to. Their lips met in a long and thoroughly satisfying kiss. She was the first to pull away, and she laughed a little breathlessly.
"Easy, buster," she said lightly. "I don't think I could stop you a third time. You've no idea how hard it was before to keep from showing you how much I wanted you."
He kissed her again, but lightly. "Yes, ma'am," he said meekly.
She patted her hair and smiled. "And now, while I still have you under my spell, we'll go and tell Mother and Daddy that we want to be married."
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The day dawned bright and clear and Lucky watched the sun rise from the window of his room. This is my wedding day, he thought with wonder. In a few hours June will be my wife.
He thought about the past few months. His life had changed radically since that day he had called June from the Dutch Mill tavern. He thought back to that night, the night June had promised to marry him. He had been scared when they went to tell her parents that they wanted to get married. He had found that he hadn't needed to be.
"I'm happy for you both," Mrs. Fletcher had said. "Everyone has a right to be happy, and you will be."
Harvey Fletcher had seemed pleased, too. He had kissed June and shaken Lucky's hand.
"You'll really be a part of our family," he promised. "I'm only sorry that you couldn't have been sooner."
He had mentioned adoption, giving Lucky his name, but Lucky had said no.
"I don't want you to think of me as your son until I can be the kind of son you deserve. I think I can be, and I'm going to try," he'd told him. "I know now that the star I followed was only tinsel, and even the wagon I hitched to it was phony."
"Your mother had the right idea," his father said. "It's fine and right to have a goal to aim for, but you have to choose a good goal and work toward it honestly. There aren't any shortcuts."
"I know that, sir," he had said. "It took me a long time to learn and I did the hard way, but I know it now. And now I have something to work for."
And he had worked from that moment on. He had studied hard, and though his grades at the end of the term had been not perfect, at least they were quite a bit above average.
He had decided definitely to continue studying law, and he was determined to be the second best lawyer in town. He knew that his father was pleased. He had told Lucky that maybe someday they could even practice together in the same law firm. He had wanted to pay Lucky's way through school, but Lucky had declined with sincere thanks. He intended to make it on his own or not at all. June agreed with him. He had mentioned waiting to get married until he had finished, but he hadn't really wanted to. He was glad that June had said she didn't want to either. It wouldn't be easy, but he knew they could do it and they would.
He sat there, watching the sunrise and thinking that today would be the real beginning of his life. The sun was up now, and he glanced at his watch. Soon it would be time to dress for the wedding.
He was wearing the watch that Dave had bought for him. He thought that it was to have been his Christmas gift, and while it had bothered him at first just to think of it, he had a real affection for it now. It was a constant reminder to him that love was the only thing in life that really mattered, and that without it life itself was unimportant.
It didn't take him long to get ready. He took a last look around the room and reflected happily that the next time he saw it he would be a married man.
He got in his car and started toward the Fletcher house. He was to pick June and her parents up at their house and go from there to the church.
He was glad that they had decided on a small wedding. The Fletchers had wanted to give them a big wedding, but he and June had decided they'd rather do it this way, with only the family there. They had agreed, but only on the condition that he and June would accept the money a big wedding would have cost as a wedding present.
He had plenty of time, so he drove slowly, enjoying the beautiful day, and his own thoughts.
He thought about how different his life was going to be from the plans he'd had ever since he could remember. For the first time in his life he could look forward to tomorrow without the force of his resentment to carry him on. He had no definite plans, just that he would work and study and build a happy and secure life for June. It was a great feeling not to always be looking for an angle. He felt relaxed and happy.
A black cat ran across the road in front of him and he grinned as he thought about the old superstition about black cats. Bad luck? What was that? He was the luckiest guy in the world. Lucky Lucas. Lady Luck's favorite son. And not that he deserved it, but the guy upstairs had been pretty good to him, too.
He pulled up in front of the Fletcher house and parked the car.
The ceremony was not long, but to Lucky it was deeply moving. He thought briefly of the shabby little ceremony he had gone through with Clarice Thompson, but only briefly. That was past, part of the dark past that was fast becoming a fading memory. Perhaps someday he could repay Jim Thompson the money he had taken from him, but the rest couldn't be undone. All he could do was try to make it up by being a better person in the future.
If all the energy he had expended on being charming and getting ahead were turned toward building a good and honest life, maybe it would somehow even the score, and he could make the corner of the world he lived in a good one.
And as he slipped the plain gold band on June's finger he made her a silent promise that she would never regret her faith in him.
Afterwards, June's mother kissed him and he and his father shook hands.
"Good luck, son," his father said simply. "I've never been prouder or happier in my life."
"Thanks," Lucky said, his eyes a little moist. "I've always been a lucky guy, Dad."
And he knew that it was true. No matter what the past had been it had brought him inevitably to this moment. He really was the luckiest guy in the world.
That night as he and June drove away to begin their new life together, Lucky looked up at the stars glittering above and smiled.
His mother was right about the wagon and the star. He had only chosen the wrong one and now that he knew where he was going he would choose a new one. Not wealth and power, the star that he had followed so long. There was another star up there and it shone with a much steadier light, but the hate in his heart had blinded him to it. This star was one of love, and it could be followed only with kindness and faith and understanding. He knew that this route to success might be longer but it was infinitely more satisfying.
Like the song says, he thought, the greatest thing anyone can ever learn is simply to love and be loved in return.
He looked at June and smiled, and she smiled back, her eyes shining with the love that filled her heart.
