We’re Going To Slooters, You Guys Coming?

Now that the evening breeze stroked across her shoulders and up her arms and that her open hair tickled her bare back, Vika regretted giving in to her friend. Strongly.

She wished, with the wild desperation of a drowning person wishing for a life-saver, for a different dress, or a coat or at least a scarf, a very long, big scarf, preferably one she could wrap her entire body up in, would simply appear out of thin air in front of her. The New York subway, however, was remarkably bereft of any of these things that evening, but full of people giving them strange looks.

"You look amazing, Vika," Jules told her, and placed a hand on Vika's own. She had been fidgeting around with the skirt of her dress unconsciously up until then, but Jules' hand stopped her. "You'll stretch it out."

“Thank Jules,” Vika said, with a smile. Despite wishing she had worn something else, the compliment was still sweet. “So do you, Mrs Brady.”

Jules wore green, the color she looked best in, a nice dress which they had bought on a shopping trip a few months ago. Vika's new dress was unlike anything else she had ever worn. 

The fabric was of a lovely orange color, the same one the sky had taken on during the sunset of the little beach vacation the group had taken together; the skirt fell down to the tips of her heels in soft pleats that started at her hips; not the sharply ironed creases of a school girl's skirt but soft, almost wave like in the way it played around her legs with the breeze. But the skirt wasn't the issue - the skirt was long and modest enough that even her mother would approve - and while the decoltée showed quite a bit of her clavicle, it ended just a few fingers beneath her collar bone and did not show the top of her breast. Entirely modest.

But the back.

The damnable back, now that was a whole other story. The dress was held up by two broad straps that covered nearly all her shoulders and those two straps were also the only thing covering her back. The fabric went up to where her first ribs lay, but the entirety of her upper back was exposed to the air. Really, Vika felt roughly two steps from naked. She had hidden it in the back of her closet until she had pulled it out to wear that evening. 

She flattened her hands out on her thighs, the silky fabric cool and soft beneath her sweaty hands. "And when did you say John would be there?"

"Johnny and Benny," Jules said, with a pointed arch of her perfectly styled eyebrows, "are going to arrive roughly half an hour after us. Silly, since we're meeting their friends... and don't get me started on the others! Either way, someone has to be there to entertain them before the rest can join us and that is going to be us."

"Lovely," Vika said faintly. "John Egan and Gale Cleven."

"Bucky and Buck, exactly. Bucky was in the plane with my Johnny when they-" Jules broke off for a moment, her eyes suddenly far away from here, across an ocean, across time, the look she often got when she thought about the time her husband (only boyfriend back then, which certainly hadn't made it easier) had spent in the Stalag. No matter how long ago it all had happened, it was always unpleasant to think about. "-went down," Jules picked the story back up, her voice cheerful again, "and Buck and Benny flew together a lot."

"Yes, Benny mentioned that."

"Oh yes? When did Benny mention that? I don't recall him saying that to me."

"Just when we were... out. Together."

"Alone? Ruthvika Patel-"

But whatever Jules had wanted to say was drowned out by the subway train screeching into the station they needed to get off and Vika hurriedly escaped the compartment and the conversation. They would meet the two men at a hotel with a nice bar a few minutes away from the subway station and the two women linked arms as they strolled through the streets towards it.

Night was starting to sink down on the city but that didn't do much to extinguish New York's eternal light. Still, Vika always felt just a bit more comfortable in the dark, when her skin color blended in more than usual and she didn't feel as if the eyes of every passerby lingered on her disapprovingly.

“I’m excited to see what they're like. You should have heard all the stories Johnny told me about those two. Or, I guess you do already know,” Jules teased, because she couldn't be merciful and forget that she still needed to ask Vika about her meetings with Benny, “or I guess you already know. Seems like you and Benny have been having a lot of talks I don't know about.” There was a note of hurt in Jules’ voice but Vika was certain that it was faked, played up for dramatic effect. She thought that she could read her friend well enough to tell if she was truly affected by Vika's secrecy. Sometimes she felt a little like a lemon that Jules was squeezing for information; but she meant well and Vika knew that. 

“Not that much. We just talked a little and he brought them up. It's not a big deal.” 

“Sure,” Jules said, putting every ounce of disbelief in the ‘u’ she drew out, “not a big deal at all. How could I think such a thing?”

The hotel bar was already full by the time the two of them arrived at the door and Vika took a deep breath, readying herself, before Jules pulled them inside. Vika didn't like meeting new people very much; didn't like having to introduce herself and feeling a new pair of eyes slide over her skin, categorizing her, the break in conversation that always came, inevitably, when someone noticed the contrast between her and those around her.

Bucky Egan and Buck Cleven, however, didn't blink an eye when they finally found the two men, after sliding through the bar with many 'could I's and 'thank you's and 'excuse me's.

"There she is!" Bucky simply exclaimed. "The Juliet to our Romeo. Buck here tells me it's a tragedy but I haven't read it and I don't believe a thing he said. Gotta be a real love story."

Buck gave a somewhat pained (at his friend’s unusual introduction) but friendly smile and held his hand out to Vika who, surprised at the gesture, simply took it without thinking. His handshake was firm but not roughly, not squeezing, and he seemed much calmer than Bucky who had occupied Jules' attention.

"You must be Ruthvika," he said, the name unfamiliar on his tongue, but he didn't butcher it as much as many others, "Benny wrote about you. I'm Gale, but the boys call me Buck, so you might as well."

"Vika. I mean... my friends call me Vika." She could practically feel blood rising to her cheeks and in this moment she was thankful for the darkness of her skin; it would cover it up and Buck would be none the wiser. Benny had told Buck about her? What had he said? She nearly wanted to ask but held back.

"Certainly more original than 'Buck'."

Bucky launched into a story which Vika could only halfway follow. He told stories with his whole body and while Vika tried to keep track of his arms and the various things - glasses, napkins - he picked up to use as props and illustrate his tale, she missed half the words which came out of his mouth. It was still entertaining, even if his humor was on the rougher side and Vika felt her neck tingle, as if her mother might appear at any moment to cover her ears and prevent her from listening to any more of Bucky’s wild tales. 

The band that played on the other end of the bar switched up and started playing a more lively tune.

"I love that song!" Bucky exclaimed. "Alright, which one of you lovely ladies will take pity on me and give me a dance? Your fellas need never know."

Vika threw Jules a pleading look, hoping to convey both 'please don't make me dance with him' and 'please don't make me say no to him', and Jules seemed to understand and took the hand Bucky offered. "I suppose one dance can't hurt."

"Marvelous." Bucky pointed a finger at Vika and winked. "But you owe me one too. Don't think I'll forget."

Vika made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a cry for help and could only breath out fully when Bucky and Jules had disappeared on the dance floor.

"Sorry about that," Buck told her, "Bucky's not for everyone."

"Oh no, no. He's very... friendly. Just a bit-"

"-much? Yeah. You'll get used to it. But first you should maybe hide before the song is over. Just to be safe."

"I, um, wanted to look at the garden anyway. I heard that it's nice?"

Buck titled his head to the side in quiet agreement. "Don't worry about me," he said, before she could open her mouth, "I'll be alright on my own." Vika gave him a grateful nod and headed towards the direction of a soft, clear breeze she could feel cooling her face in the overheated room. The door swung up, a couple with their arms wrapped around each other easily pushing through, so easily absorbed in each other that they didn't even notice Vika and for a moment she felt a pang of jealousy sparking in her chest, but then she caught the door in her hand and the thought was gone.

The garden greeted her with open arms, the air comfortably warm and sweet with the subtle smell of roses. It seemed empty, except for her and Vika was glad about it; the bar inside had been too crowded, too full and here she could breath in deeply, let her lungs expand until her ribs pressed against the fabric of her dress. The door opened onto a stone terrace and a few broad steps lead down to the garden. Vika descended carefully, her heels wobbling slightly on the gravel walk, which led from the terrace down to a fountain at the other end of the garden. There were smaller paths diverging from the main one, lined by green hedges and rose bushes and she took one at random.

There were people on the other side of the path, she could heard their conversation but not see them and the soft chatter was comforting rather than disturbing. Vika found a little stone bench and she sat down on it, the rose bush behind her covering her up completely, so that she was invisible from the terrace. The stone was cold and slightly moist, but that didn't disturb Vika much and she closed her eyes and listened to the sounds around her; the chirping of a bird nearby, the muted music coming from the bar, the quiet conversations of the others in the yard.

She sat like this for a moment, with her head tilted back lightly, peaceful, until she heard a male voice call her name and she gave a start. It was too far away for her to recognise who it belonged too but then she heard the gravel crunch under someone's shoes and quickly ducked behind the rose bush, hoping that it would obscure her from the side as well.

It wasn't that she found Bucky so horrible; he seemed like a lovely, excitable man, who to some other woman, someone who was the complete opposite of her, must have seemed like the perfect man; tall, handsome, with a preference for dancing. But the idea of dancing with him in the middle of the floor, for everyone in the bar to see filled Vika with dread.

The rose bush prickled her arm and she winced slightly at the pain, but didn't move.

"Vika?" Someone called again and this time she recognized the voice just fine. It was Benny.

Feeling a little ridiculous, Vika quickly stepped out from behind the rosebush, smoothed down her dress and her hair and plucked a leaf from her skirt. Knees almost weak with embarrassment, she stepped out onto the path to greet Benny.

He looked lovely in the dark suit he wore, his hair neatly styled and the shirt beneath the black suit jacket pressed so that not a single crease was visible. He looked handsome as the hero in any Hollywood movie and for a moment Vika couldn't open her mouth. They simply stared at each other for a few seconds, neither blinking before Benny said: "Looks like I found you."

"Yes, looks like you did. I was just enjoying the garden. It's really lovely."

Benny looked around him, as if he hadn't even considered the garden until then and nodded once in confirmation. "Very nice." His eyes trailed back to her and then widened in concern. "Vika, you're bleeding!" He took a step forward and wrapped a hand around her arm, held it up slightly so that he could examine the scratch on her upper arm. His fingers were long and warm against her skin and she felt her heartbeat pick up a nervous, quick pace and she wasn't sure whether to shake his hand off or to lean into the touch.

"It's nothing, I must have... walked too close to a rose bush."

Benny nodded and let go of her arm; didn't drop it but placed it back down against her side gently. "It doesn't look deep. Does it hurt?"

"No, not at all." The only thing that hurt was the fact that they were no longer touching, even if just a moment ago she had thought about breaking the contact herself. "Do you want to explore the garden some more? Or go back inside?"

If she stayed out here with Benny much longer, she would do something stupid, she knew it. Not what she would do, but simply that she wouldn't be able to take it back, that it would change everything. Vika wasn't one who changed things. She made sure they stayed the way they were. "Go back inside. I should say hello to Johnny."

It seemed almost as if a flash of disappointment crossed Benny's face but maybe that was simply her own, projected onto his handsome features. "Of course. I think Bucky was just about to order the next round. On him, of course. We shouldn't miss that."

He held out her arm for her to take and, missing the contact between them, Vika placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. “We couldn't possibly.”

“The dress is lovely, by the way,” Benny said and kept his eyes firmly on the terrace in front of them, “you look lovely.”