The Prodigal Daughter (Kane & Abel 2)

“Then it deserves an early burial,” said Florentyna as she took her seat in the front, suddenly realizing how much of her legs were showing.

“Has anyone taught you how to propel this lump of metal in a forward direction?” she inquired sweetly.

“No, not exactly,” said Jason.

“What?” said Florentyna in disbelief.

“I’m told driving is mostly common sense.”

Florentyna pushed down the handle of her door, opening it slightly, as if to get out. Jason put his hand on her thigh.

“Don’t be silly, Tyna. I was taught by my father and I’ve been driving for nearly a year.”

Florentyna blushed, closed the door again and had to admit to herself that he drove rather well all the way to the tennis club even if the car did rattle and bump as it went over the holes in the road.

The tennis match was a desperate affair with Florentyna trying hard to win a point while Jason tried hard to lose one. Somehow Jason managed to win by only 6–2, 6–1.

“What I need is a Coke,” he said at the end of the match.

“What I need is a coach,” said Florentyna.

He laughed and took her hand as they left the court, and even though she felt sweaty and hot, he did not let her hand go until they reached the bar at the back of the clubhouse. He bought one Coke and they sat drinking it from two straws in the corner of the room. When they had finished, Jason drove her home. On reaching Rigg Street, he leaned over and kissed her on the lips. Florentyna did not respond, more out of shock than for any other reason.

“Why don’t you come to the movies with me tonight?” he said. “On the Town is showing at the United Artists.”

“Well, I normally…Yes, I’d like that,” said Florentyna.

“Good, then I’ll pick you up at seven.”

Florentyna watched the car as it chugged away, and tried to think of some reason that would persuade her mother she had to be out that evening. She found Miss Tredgold preparing tea in the kitchen.

“A good game, child?” asked Miss Tredgold.

“Not for him, I’m afraid. By the way, he wants to take me to”—she hesitated—“to Orchestra Hall for a concert this evening so I won’t need any dinner.”

“How nice,” said Miss Tredgold. “Be sure you’re back before eleven or your mother will worry.”

Florentyna ran upstairs, sat on the end of the bed and started to think about what she could possibly wear that evening, how awful her hair looked and whether she could steal some of her mother’s makeup. She stood in front of the mirror wondering how she could make her breasts look bigger without holding her breath all night.

At seven o’clock Jason returned dressed in a red sloppy Joe sweater and khakis and was met at the door by Miss Tredgold.

“How do you do, young man.”

“How do you do, ma’am,” said Jason.

“Would you like to come into the drawing room?”

“Thank you,” said Jason.

“And what is the concert you’re taking Florentyna to?”

“The concert?”

“Yes, I wondered who was playing,” said Miss Tredgold. “I read a good review of Beethoven’s Third in the morning paper.”

“Oh, yeah, Beethoven’s Third,” said Jason, as Florentyna appeared on the stairs. Both Miss Tredgold and Jason were stunned. One approved while the other didn’t. Florentyna was wearing a green dress that fell just below the knee and revealed the sheerest nylon stockings with dark seams down the back. She walked slowly down the stairs, her long legs unsteady in high-heeled shoes, her small breasts looking larger than usual, her shining dark hair hanging down to her shoulders, reminiscent of Jennifer Jones, and making Florentyna appear a lot older than her fifteen years. The only item she wore to which Miss Tredgold could take no exception was the watch she herself had given to Florentyna on her thirteenth birthday.

“Come on, Jason, or we’ll be late,” said Florentyna, wanting to avoid any conversation with Miss Tredgold.

“Sure thing,” said Jason. Florentyna did not look back once for fear of being turned into a pillar of salt.

“Be sure she’s home before eleven, young man,” commanded Miss Tredgold.

“Sure thing,” repeated Jason as he closed the front door. “Where did you find her?”

“Miss Tredgold?”

“Yes, she’s straight out of a Victorian novel. ‘Be sure she’s home before eleven, young man,’” he mimicked as he opened the car door for her.

“Don’t be rude,” said Florentyna, and smiled at him coquettishly.

There was a long line outside the theater, and Florentyna spent most of the time standing beside Jason facing the wall in case someone might recognize her. Once inside, Jason quickly guided her to the back row with an air of having been there before.

She took her seat and when the lights went down she began to relax for the first time—but not for long. Jason leaned over, put his hand around her shoulder and started kissing her. She began to enjoy the sensation as he forced her lips open and their tongues touched for the first time. Then he broke away and they watched the titles go up on the screen. Florentyna liked Gene Kelly. Jason leaned over again and pressed his mouth against hers. Her lips parted. Almost immediately she felt a hand on her breast. She tried to remove his fingers, but once again his backhand was too strong for her. After a few seconds she came up for air and took a quick look at the Statue of Liberty before Jason returned with his other hand and fondled her other breast. This time she managed to push him away but only for a few moments. Annoyed, he took out a package of Camels and lit one. Florentyna couldn’t believe what was happening. After a few puffs he stubbed the cigarette out and placed a hand between her legs. In near panic, she stopped any further advance by squeezing her thighs closely together.

“Oh, come on,” said Jason. “Don’t be such a prude or you’ll end up like Miss Tredgold,” and he bent over to kiss her once again.

“For heaven’s sake, Jason, let’s watch the movie.”

“Don’t be silly. No one goes to a movie house to watch a film.” He put his hand back on her leg. “Don’t tell me you haven’t done this before. Hell, you’re sixteen. What are you hoping to be? The oldest virgin in Chicago?”

Florentyna jumped up and pushed her way out, stumbling over several pairs of feet before she reached the aisle. Without straightening her dress, she ran out of the theater as fast as she could. Once outside, she attempted to run, but couldn’t manage much more than a walking pace in her mother’s high heels, so she took the shoes off and ran in her stocking feet. When she reached the front door of her house she tried to compose herself, hoping she could get up to her room without bumping into Miss Tredgold, but she failed. Miss Tredgold’s bedroom door was ajar and as Florentyna tiptoed past, she said, “Concert over early, my dear?”

“Yes…no…I mean, I didn’t feel very well,” said Florentyna, and she ran into her own room before Miss Tredgold could ask any more questions. She went to bed that night still trembling.

She woke early the next morning and although still angry with Jason, she found herself laughing at what had taken place and even determined to go and see the film again, on her own this time. She liked Gene Kelly, but it was the first time she had seen her real idol on the screen, and she couldn’t get over how skinny and vulnerable he looked.

At Student Council the next day, Florentyna could not make herself look at Jason while he was stating in a quiet, firm voice that some senior boys who were not members of the Council were becoming casual about their dress. He also added that the next person caught smoking would have to be reported to the headmaster or his own reputation as president would be undermined. Everyone except Florentyna nodded in agreement.

“Good, then I’ll put a notice on

the bulletin board to that effect.”

As soon as the meeting was over, Florentyna slipped off to class before anyone could speak to her. She finished study hall late that evening and did not set off for Rigg Street until a few minutes after six o’clock. As she reached the main school door, it started to rain and she remained under the archway, hoping the storm would blow over quickly. As she stood there, Jason walked straight past her with a girl from the twelfth grade. She watched them climb into his car and she bit her lip. The rain came down harder, so she decided to return to her classroom and type up the minutes of the Student Council meeting. On her way back into school she passed a small crowd studying a notice on the board that confirmed the Council’s attitude toward sloppy dress and smoking.

Florentyna took about an hour to complete the minutes of the Council meeting, partly because her mind wandered continually back to Jason’s double standards. The rain had stopped by the time she finished her typing and she closed her typewriter case and placed the minutes in her desk. As she walked back down the corridor, she thought she heard a noise coming from the boys’ locker room. No one except members of the Student Council was allowed to remain in school after seven o’clock without special permission, so she turned back to see who it was. When she was a few yards away from the locker room, the light under the door went off. She walked over and opened the door and switched the light back on. It was a few seconds before Florentyna focused on him standing in the corner, trying to hide a cigarette behind his back, but he knew she had seen it.

“Pete,” she said in surprise.

“Well, Miss Student Councillor, you’ve caught me once and for all. Two major offenses in one day. In school after hours, and smoking. Bang goes my chance of making Harvard,” Pete Welling said as he ground out the cigarette on the stone floor. The vision of the Student Council president stubbing out his cigarette at the movie on Saturday night came back to her.

“Jason Morton is hoping to go to Harvard, isn’t he?”

“Yes. What’s that got to do with it?” said Pete. “Nothing will stop him making the Ivy League.”