Goldengirl

‘At the table there, across the pool. I was reading the paper besides admiring the view.’

Her free hand slid behind her back to the waistband of her white bikini pants. The upward tug she gave the elastic didn’t quite obscure the peach effect.

‘You have Sunday morning free, then?’ said Dryden. ‘You seem to have been kept busy since you got here.’

‘I finished collating my notes at ten last evening,’ said Melody. ‘They have to be ready for Dr. Serafin to look over before the action in the stadium this afternoon. It was a lot of work. What a way to spend a Saturday night!’

‘I could say the same,’ said Dryden. ‘I was in a poker game. Lost twenty-three bucks. Oliver Sternberg knows how to call a hand.’

‘You don’t look too dejected.’

‘How could I be after yesterday? Moscow’s still a long way off, but that U.S. record was good for my anxiety neurosis. So was that four-hundred heat. She made it look so easy, like tumbleweed blown by the wind.’

Melody chipped some varnish from a toenail. ‘You make it sound positively lyrical. To me it was fifty-three point forty-two. Track’s a drag.’

‘What brought you into the job, then?’

She shrugged. ‘I had some complications in my personal life. Needed to get out of Bakersfield for a while.’

Dryden had the tact to leave it there. ‘It can’t all be work. You’ve managed to get a gorgeous tan up in the mountains.’

‘Ultraviolet,’ said Melody. ‘Why should she have it all to herself?’

‘Fair point.’

‘It wasn’t so bad in the mountains,’ Melody admitted.

‘I second that.’

They exchanged smiles.

‘But now you’re moving camp,’ said Dryden as casually as he could.

‘Uhuh.’

‘Change of air?’

‘I guess so.’

‘An undisclosed location?’

‘That’s the ticket.’

‘Wild horses wouldn’t drag it from you?’

‘One Campari wouldn’t.’

‘You’d like another?’

‘Jack Dryden, I’m suspicious of your motives.’

‘Melody Fryer, you have reason to be. The entertainment page of the Oregonian lists all of three nightclubs. I don’t know what passes for an All-Star Revue in swinging Eugene, but I’m fumbling toward a proposition. Think about it while I fetch that drink.’

‘Hi. I’m Janie Canute.’

Goldine looked up from the bench where she was untying the laces of her spikes after her 400-metre Quarter-Final. The girl who had spoken looked frail for a runner. Her fine black hair was parted at the center like a squaw and clasped at the back with a leather thong. She had a thin row of beads around her neck.

‘If I may say so, you have a beautiful style,’ said Janie. ‘You don’t mind me speaking?’

‘That’s kind of you,’ said Goldine. ‘I believe I should know your name. You won the second heat, is that right?’

Janie nodded. ‘Not so fast as yours. You were really motoring over the first half. Someone over there took a split at just on twenty-four. Do you always start fast?’

‘It’s inexperience, I guess,’ said Goldine. ‘I was too anxious to make up the stagger. By the end, I was short of breath.’

Janie handed her a training shoe that was out of reach. ‘I read about you in the paper. You must have a lot of talent, Goldine, going for three events.’

Goldine smiled. ‘Or a lot of cheek.’

‘Don’t say that. If you have a talent, don’t bury it. Unto every one that hath shall be given.’ She stopped and smiled. ‘You guessed it. I’m the one they call the Jesus freak. I run because I believe it’s God’s divine plan for me. You have to have something to run for, don’t you, or it’s meaningless? I’m always asking people why they run. I mean, a girl has to have a good reason to stand the guys teasing her about being a jock. You don’t mind me talking? I don’t embarrass you?’

‘I like to talk,’ said Goldine. ‘I don’t know many people in track.’

‘I’ll introduce you to a few. They all think I’m a nut, but they’re okay really. Mind if I ask you my question?’

‘About why I run?’ said Goldine. ‘I’m not religious, Janie, but it’s a kind of compulsion, like yours, I guess.’

‘Mine’s more of a conviction. Does it come from within?’

‘I couldn’t exactly say. I find it difficult to analyze like that. It’s not a thing I have much control over, but the more I go on, the more committed I become.’

Janie nodded earnestly. ‘I understand exactly. Goldine, wouldn’t it be great if we both got to Moscow?’

‘The topless dancer!’ giggled Melody as Dryden unlocked his hotel room door and hustled her inside. ‘“Get a load of Ann-Marie, the topless dancer!” I never saw so many disappointed men in one place together. You should take out an action for deception.’

‘It wouldn’t stick,’ said Dryden. ‘Topless they promised, and topless she was. As topless as I am. They’re covered.’

Melody fell onto the bed laughing. ‘They should be!’

‘I’ve seen some poor entertainment in my time,’ went on Dryden, ‘but for an All-Star Revue, that beat everything. One topless dancer, with nothing to exhibit.’

‘No beefing, Jack,’ said Melody, still simpering at the memory. ‘It was all star. All star and no boob! “Get a load of Ann-Marie!” Do you think I might have drunk too much champagne?’