Nighttime Passes, Morning Comes: An Emotional Family Drama set during World War II (The Days of War Series Book 2) by Jonathan Cullen

Author:Jonathan Cullen [Cullen, Jonathan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Liquid Mind Publishing
Published: 2023-04-10T16:00:00+00:00

……

When they got to the Cocoanut Grove, it was nine o’clock, and there was a line out front. They had stopped by Harold’s apartment to drop off Abby’s bag and ended up staying for two hours. He made drinks, and they listened to jazz records. He had given the cabbie ten dollars to come back, but the man never did so he had to call another, and they were lucky to get a taxi on a Friday night.

They had only been waiting a couple of minutes when someone called out to them, and Abby saw Sal waving. Pushing through the crowd, they got to the front, and he took them through the revolving door.

“A savior,” Harold said.

Frances stood on her tiptoes, and Abby was shocked that Sal kissed her on the lips, not the cheek. He checked in their coats and brought them through the club, staff bowing and nodding to him as they went by. Abby had always known Sal as the quiet boy next door, but she couldn’t deny feeling some importance being with the head waiter.

They walked into the ballroom, and the dance floor was packed, the air thick with the smell of cigarettes and perfume. The band was playing a fast number, and as they went down the aisle, a twirling couple almost knocked them over.

They sat in the same section as before, and possibly the same table—Abby couldn’t tell. With its dim lights and endless palm trees, the club was as murky as a jungle.

Sal pulled out chairs for Abby and Frances, and he invited Harold to sit.

“What can I get everybody?” he asked, looking first at Frances.

“Just the usual, darling.”

Abby didn’t know what the usual was, but she had the same. Harold asked for a Manhattan before changing to a Zombie, ironic considering he was already drunk. Sal gave the order to a waiter and then turned to Frances.

“How’s about a warmup?”

She gave him a sexy sideways glance, raising her eyes.

“Why, sure.”

Abby watched as he escorted her out to the dance floor, his hand on her lower back. She didn’t know if they were in love, but they seemed well on the way to it.

“How’s about a warmup,” Harold said in a mocking voice.

Abby looked over with a frown.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The boy sounds like a bloody fishmonger.”

“He’s not a boy. And he’s certainly not a fishmonger.”

Harold struggled to light a cigarette with his hand shaking.

“Sometimes it’s hard to tell with these guineas.”

The waiter came back, and just in time because Abby was horrified. Harold could get mean when he was drunk. On their last night out of the semester, she didn’t want to get into an argument, but the remark was harsh enough that the moment the man left, she said, “Maybe you’re just jealous.”

He took a deep drag and blew out the smoke.

“Maybe you’re right,” he said, reaching for his cocktail.

Abby was stunned. For all their long talks and shared secrets, he had never admitted any weakness.

“Is that so?”

She looked over, but he wouldn’t look back.

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