Chapter 57

The young man had barely stepped away when John, perhaps a little deliberately to rub it in, brought Billie into his arms. She decided to keep the comment about he being her father to herself. If it were up to her, it would never be spoken of again. Just like that things felt right again. John knew how to hold her, and she knew how to hold him. Despite their many differences, even physically, they seemed to just fit.

"Miss me?"

Billie answered John just by smiling and moving closer. Their cheeks brushed, John's head resting against hers. They stayed that way some moments, letting the atmosphere fill them up and move them along the dance floor. The two never moved in any position too formal; they only danced for the benefit of each other.

"I like this song." It was John who spoke lightly near her ear.

"Yeah?"

"You wanna know why?"

She smiled at hearing those words come out of his mouth for a change. "Why?"

"It reminds me of you."

Billie paid closer attention to the song. It was a rather upbeat but still moderately paced version of Bye Bye Blackbird. She moved enough to look into John's eyes, curious. The only thing that had significance with a blackbird was the poem John once recited to her. "...as the blackbird's throat
With its last big note...?" she said with question.

John grew a large smirk. She had remembered the poem enough to repeat it herself. He was quite alarmed by this, but pleasantly, and brought it to her attention.

"It might be the only time you ever recite me a poem," she answered. "You don't just forget that."

They laughed, because they knew it was true, but John wanted her to know the real reason. "You're like a blackbird. Small, dark, beautiful... Or, a chickadee..." the idea had just come to him and he said it aloud. Billie was flattered but wondered where he was getting such references.

"A chickadee?"

"Yeah..." He went on to explain that when he was a boy living on his family's farm it would snow so drastically everything outside was covered in white and frigidly cold. He remembered, near the barn, seeing little chickadee's hopping about the snow. "...they were the smallest, cutest things out there..." The memory was a happy one, filled with the wonder of youth and purity and joy. Those were things that completely related to Billie.

When the song ended John and Billie still remained close. John commented that her face looked a little flushed from the dancing, that he'd get her some water. She said her face was faring far better than her feet. When the couple continued back to the table their hands were entwined, Billie keeping to John snugly.

- - -

The night passed and John and Billie spent the rest of it together. They danced some and when they were seated at the table Billie was usually in his lap. They had lost track of most of the gang early on. The only one who was seen rather regularly was Homer. While the other single guys were off chatting up women and dancing, Homer slunk down at the table with John and Billie. He was either terribly insecure or simply having a rough night. Billie's heart went out to him. She had had more than her fill of attention and admirers, more than she had ever asked for, and then there was Homer all by himself. She didn't like to see anybody lonely when she was around.

She turned to John, whispering. "Should I ask Homer to dance?"

John smirked, looking over to his buddy. He did look pretty sour there with a puss on his face. Billie was getting more comfortable, and perhaps confident, as the night went on. Now that she knew John had little problem with her dancing with others she wasn't as frightened of the opportunities. Homer was a friend. John knew her intentions were only out of kindness, and as much as he wanted to keep Billie to himself he wouldn't deny her. Homer would like to dance to Billie; John knew, whereas Billie was probably to modest to have assumed, that he had a sort of crush on her.

When John nodded Billie on she looked to the other man. "Homer, come dance with me."

She made it almost a demand so he wouldn't feel embarrassed, like he'd know she was doing it for his benefit. He did look shocked and immediately darted his eye between her and John. He knew, even if it was Billie speaking, that John had the final word.

"Don't keep the lady waiting," was all he said.

Billie could see Homer wasn't going to make the first move, he still skeptical, so she rose and grabbed his hand. Honestly, she was a bit surprised that he came easily. When they reached the dance floor she could see he was almost trembling he was so nervous. This man was a criminal; he robbed banks and did hard time with the Dillinger gang, and yet the sight of a dance floor could have been his biggest weakness. She admired this, however unusual or peculiar a thing that was to admire.

"Follow me," she instructed. Much like the first time she and John danced, Billie fed Homer some easy tips. Their first dance was a little shaky and stiff, but Homer loosened up when he realized Billie wasn't there to judge him. She just wanted to have fun and as awkward as he felt in her presence it started to rub off. She had him twirling her in and out properly by the second dance. The hard grimace that was always on his face even softened, and once, she almost saw him grin.

He started talking to her, the two actually having real conversations. She learned that when Homer was young, or at the times when he was out of prison, he had earned money by being a street performer. He could pop his joints in and out in bizarre ways. He offered to show Billie but she decline quickly, imaging the confusion that might happen if he were to start dislocating his body on the dance floor. As she looked over his shoulder Billie could see the bar. Between the crowd she could almost spot those drinking at the counter, which didn't interest her until she saw someone familiar. Pete.

No, it couldn't have been. The man she saw was with a woman she hadn't recognized. Now very curious, Billie started to turn in Homer's hold to keep starring at the figures. It was Pete...and he had his arm wrapped around a woman that wasn't Mairy. Her heart started to beat faster, thinking she was witnessing something she shouldn't but she couldn't look away. Then, as there was another break in the crowd, she noticed a second woman on his other arm. A blonde and brunette, barely clothed in loose dresses and heavy make up. Her mind went into a small frenzy.

Was she actually witnessing what it looked like? Her whole mind tried to deny it. They could be friends. Close friends. They certainly weren't family. One didn't allow their hands to fondle like that upon family members. Suddenly, Pete began kissing the blonde, on her lips and down her neck, and Billie felt her head spin. Instantly she looked away, having seen too much, feeling scarred. She stopped dancing and dropped her arms from Homer, bringing them to her head. Her fingers pressed into her temple.

He was confused. "What's wrong? You alright?"

The bodies were moving too fast around them. Nothing made sense. The room was far too warm. Her stomach was turning. "I..." she took a deep breath. "I don't feel...so good..."

She left the dance floor first, making a b-line for the table. The second John saw her head hung low, the tense set of her shoulders and Homer following closely behind he imagined the worst. Something must have happened. He rose from his seat about the time that she reached him.

"I want to go home."

He frowned, looking accusingly at Homer. "What? What happened?"

"I dunno, she just stopped and-"

"What'd you do?"

Billie raised her hand as the voices became louder. She couldn't stand it; all the noises were deafening. "Nothing, Johnnie. He did...nothing... I want to go home..."

Nothing made sense to anyone. Billie had her hand on her stomach, taking deep breaths. Homer started to believe he really had done something, and John was content to blame him anyway. Still, if Billie wanted to go they'd go. They had stayed long enough already. John gave one more glare to Homer who just shrugged, and he linked his arm through Billie's as he walked her out.