Al’s Blind Date: The Al Series, Book Six (13 page)

“Sure,” I said.

“Hi, Pol,” I said. “What's new?” Then I waited for her to say “Not much, what's new with you.”

“Listen, turkey,” she said instead, “are you or are you not going to this tea dance? You and Al have stalled long enough, and Harry says he's psyched up to take Thelma. What's more, Thelma's got a new dress and everything. You guys have to make up your minds.”

“A lot's happened to me since I saw you last, Pol,” I told her. I made my voice sound weary, very weary. “Don't give me heat. Al and I were fire-bombed this afternoon and her bangs got singed and my nose got beat up. I'm O.K., but Al's sorta shook up.”

There was a silence, then Polly said, “You putting me on?”

“No, I'm not putting you on,” I said. “It's what happened. It was on television. If you want further details, tune in at eleven.”

“Where's Al?” Polly said after a pause.

“She's home. Taking a shower, I imagine.”

“Was anybody killed or anything?” Polly said. “I mean, where'd this happen? Were you just walking down the street and somebody threw a fire bomb at you or what?”

“It was at this health club Al and I went to,” I said. “We got out in the nick of time. It said on the news they think it was Mafia doings.”

“If I find out you're putting me on,” Polly said, “you're in trouble.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die, Pol,” I told her.

“It was a big weekend for Al and me,” I went on. “First, we had blind dates last night at a party. From Cincinnati. I'm all burned out. It was wild.”

“No kidding? What happened?” Polly asked.

“Not a heck of a lot,” I said. “It was the dialogue. I'll tell you all about it when I see you. I'm not sure Al's up for another blind date, though. She's burned out too, plus her bangs are singed and they look funny. It wasn't love at first sight. The blind date, I mean. My father says it almost never is.”

“I'll stall Harry another day, then,” Polly said, “Tell Al tomorrow's D day, though. Thelma's on standby, don't forget. Harry's plenty psyched. He's never known anyone named Thelma before. He thinks it's kind of cute.”

“I bet he's never known a girl named Al before either,” I said. “That oughta psyche him right out of his head.”

“Good point,” Polly said.

Nineteen

In the morning I called Al.

“You going to school today?” I said.

“Listen,” she said. “I trimmed off the singed parts and I must've dropped about ten pounds yesterday. I look gorge. Sure I'm going.”

We met at the elevator.

“My mother said maybe I should stay home today,” I told her.

“Mine too,” Al said. “I guess they think we're wimps, that we can't take the stress of daily life in the big city. Little do they know. We have to go and inform the troops of the battle in progress,
n'est-ce pas
?”

The elevator door creaked open, revealing Sparky and his mom. Sparky was sulking, probably because he was on his leash. He hates his leash. His mom says he doesn't like to be confined.

“Hello,” we said. Sparky's mom waggled fingers at us in greeting.

If only the elevator had been crowded, we could've said we'd wait for the next one. But it was just us and her. And him.

We got on.

“Thank you for a nice time,” Al said right off. “We looked around for you to say good-bye, but we couldn't see you. It was a nice party.”

Her mother would've been proud of her.

I nodded and smiled agreement.

“Well,” Sparky's mom said, “a party is what gets the blood stirring. What are one's friends for if not to come to one's parties? We must all hang together or we hang alone. Isn't that right? Josh loved meeting you girls. He said he just loved it. He had the best time. Isn't he a darling boy? His friend is too. What was his name? Oh, I'm so bad about names. Some days I can hardly remember my own. I'm off to the beauty salon. I feel the need of a facial. I must drop Sparky off at his day-care center. They love him there. They just think he's the cutest thing. He's such a dear little one, isn't he?”

Al and I both smiled. Behind Sparky's mom's back, Al rested the toe of her sneaker on Sparky's head. He lifted his lips and sneered, then he raised his eyebrow at her too. Sparky has only one eyebrow, which stretches across both little eyes. It's one of the things that makes him so outstanding.

“We'll do it again soon, girls,” Sparky's mom said.

“Not on your tintype,” I said, under my breath.

“Just think.” We stopped at Lexington for the light. “We're lucky to be alive.” Al was very serious. “We might be dead. We owe Big Al a big debt.”

“Maybe we should send him some flowers,” I said.

“That's a good idea,” Al said. “I wonder what name we should use? I mean, he's got all those aliases. Maybe instead of sending flowers, we should visit him in the hospital.”

“What hospital is he in?” I said.

Al shrugged. “We can stop by the health club today after school and ask. They'll probably know.”

“You think the health club is still there?” I said. “I mean, a fire bomb usually levels everything it hits, doesn't it?”

“I don't know,” Al said. She so seldom says “I don't know” I was momentarily flabbergasted.

“Polly called last night,” I said. “She says Thelma's on standby for the tea dance. She has a new dress and everything, and Polly says her cousin Harry is all psyched up about Thelma because he's never known a girl with that name before and he thinks it's kind of cute.”

“Harry sound like a twerp,” Al said.

“Well, Polly says we've stalled long enough,” I told Al. “She says we have to decide today if we're going. Do you want to go to the tea dance on a blind date or don't you?”

“No,” Al said. “If I knew how to tea-dance, I might. But I haven't the faintest idea, so I'm not going. Furthermore, my experience with blind dates has probably warped me for time immemorial.”

Trouble was, I wanted to go. But I wasn't going without Al.

“As a matter of fact,” Al went on, “my experience with blind dates has not only warped me, it has probably ruined my life. I may never get married, have two kids and a station wagon and a Jacuzzi in my bathroom. Or a sauna in the backyard, in addition to a Weber cooker for barbecues. Do you realize what one terrible blind date can do? It can louse you up forevermore.”

“I didn't think it was
that
bad,” I said.

“My standards are much higher than yours,” Al told me. “I want a blind date to have manners. I want him to stand up, not loll all over on account of if he stands up he'll blow his midget cover.

“Besides,” Al said, “I don't have anything to wear to a tea dance.”

“The dress you wore to your birthday party would be terrific,” I said. “That dress is very becoming.”

“You sound just like my mother,” Al said. “If I wore that taffeta dress, then you'd wear your taffeta dress and we'd look like a mother-daughter combo. I'm the mother and you're the daughter. I look much older than you. That's because I'm stout. Stout people tend to look older than skinny ones.”

“I'm not skinny,” I protested.

“Where does that leave me, then?” Al said.

“What happened to you?” Martha Moseley screeched. “You get caught in a bear trap?”

Martha's vassals, lined up single file behind her, tittered.

“The bomb got my nose is all,” I said. “Watch TV for further developments.” Before I knew Al, I never would've been able to handle Martha Moseley.

“Ms. Bolton,” Al said, “did you know Al's Health Club was fire-bombed yesterday? It just missed us.”

Ms. Bolton's eyes got wide. “I was planning to go there to work out yesterday,” she said. “Then my fiancé turned up and we went to the zoo instead.”

“Your fiancé!” Al said.

“We didn't know you were engaged,” I said. “We were planning on fixing you up with a nice blind date, only we couldn't find one.”

“I'm getting married at Christmas,” Ms. Bolton said. “Here.” She took a snapshot out of her wallet and showed it to us.

“He's a hunk,” Al said.

“He's very good looking,” I told Ms. Bolton.

“Thanks,” she said.

We went by the health club on our way home. It was boarded up and there were police standing around, in case of looters, they told us. They didn't know anything or, if they did, they weren't telling us.

“I have to call Polly and tell her if we're going or not,” I said.

“If you want to go, go,” Al said. “But count me out.”

“I'm going,” I said. “I'm calling Polly and telling her I'm going.”

“So go,” Al said. “Go ahead.”

I knew she didn't really think I'd go without her. It was time I taught her a lesson.

“Me and Thelma will make quite a pair,” I said. “She's incredibly shallow, but shallow in a deep way, if you get my meaning.”

“You'll be sorry,” Al said. “All right for you, go.”

“Don't be a sorehead, sorehead,” I said.

Twenty

I'd just dished up the instant pudding when Al's special ring came.

Two, then one, then two.

“It's Al!” Teddy shouted. “I'll get it!”

Usually we fight to be the one who'll let Al in. This time I let Teddy go. He was halfway to the door before he realized he had a clear field.

“What's up?” Teddy said. “It's Al.”

“So what?” I said. “Big deal.”

“Hey, Al.” Teddy opened the door a crack and peered out, making sure it really
was
Al. “It's you, isn't it?”

“Sure thing, Ted,” Al said. Then she looked at me and said, “Two things. I heard on the news that Al's Health Club is closed due to bankruptcy and damages due to the fire. He's suffering from first- and second-degree burns, but he's in satisfactory condition. The police are waiting to question him.”

She stopped and stood there with her hands behind her back.

“What's the second thing?” I said.

“This.” She brought a magazine out that she'd been hiding. “You call Polly yet?”

“I was just about to,” I lied. Actually, I'd taken the phone off the hook right after my mother and father went out to the movies. I didn't want to talk to Polly until I knew what I was going to say.

“O.K.” Al cleared her throat. “I came across something in this magazine I want to read to you.”

“Shoot,” I said.

“Here goes.” Al cleared her throat again.

“We're talking here about the Weimar era in Germany,” she said. “Circa 1919 to 1933. This was the period between the two World Wars, before Hitler really got going. I'm quoting an old German actress who was a young German actress at that time and remembers it well. She says ‘There was a great deal of freedom at that time, to do anything people wanted. Intellectual freedom as well as personal freedom, sexual freedom. There were many things going on at that time that might be considered outrageous in this day and age. For instance, nude tea dances were not uncommon, taking place at many of the big hotels in Berlin.'”

She looked at me.

“What?” I said.

“That's what it said. ‘Nude tea dances.'”

She waited. I kept my face blank.

“So?” I said.

“Don't give me that ‘so' routine,” Al said. “First, you get the mental picture.” She began to pace.

“They've got their little white gloves on, see. They've also got their little hats with their little veils on, and the men are wearing garters to hold up their socks. Get it? Is it lovely? It's so wonderful I can't stand it.” Al hugged the magazine to her chest.

“They go to this snazzy hotel, sort of like the Plaza,” she said, darting a look at me, then at Teddy, who was polishing off the pudding and couldn't care less.

“How do they get to the hotel?” I said. It was kind of fascinating to contemplate the logistics of it all. “In a car, or maybe their chauffeur drives them and lets them out at the front door. They've got their fur-lined overcoats on, probably, because it's cold. It's winter, see. Do they take off their duds when they get to the hotel, or are they already nude under their fur-lined coats?”

Al was silent, looking at me to see where this was taking me.

“No,” I said, frowning thoughtfully. “I think they go to the mens' and ladies' rooms and take off their clothes and put 'em in a brown paper bag and leave 'em with the check girl. Where they also check their hats and coats.”

“I think they're nude when they arrive at the hotel,” Al told me. “Then when they take off their hats and coats and check 'em with the girl, there they are, standing there, starkers.”

We were quiet, thinking about it.

“I wonder if they've got shoes on?” I said. “Sure. Because if they didn't wear shoes and somebody stepped on their feet, their toes would get crushed. Shoes are a must.”

Al began to dance around the room.

“How about the music?” she said.

“Probably rock or country,” I said.

Al stopped dancing.

“Hey, baby, we're talking 1919 to 1933 here,” she reminded me. “Long before rock and country days. And it's Germany. They played waltzes, most likely. You get the picture? There they are, starkers, with their gloves and hats and shoes on, and they're waltzing, waltzing around the dance floor. Talking and chatting and laughing. Having a grand time. Starkers every step of the way. I mean, I could die. It's so absolutely wonderful I can't stand it.

“It is so gorgeous!” Al chortled. “So perfect. Even in my wildest dreams, I couldn't have made it up.”