now she could see her parents had been trying to keep her safe, but at the time she had felt unjustly confined, which had only added fuel to the fire.
Her sister hadn’t helped the situation by warning Vi that she was “too young” to understand things like adult love and real desire and should leave romancing to her elders.
“What you feel is just puppy love,” her sister had said. “It’s not real.”
Vi had been incensed.
So of course you decided to prove her wrong, Vi thought in self-disgust. Never one to let a challenge pass unmet, she had redoubled her efforts to make Robert fall in love with her. She’d already had a crush on the fellow, and with Fern declaring she was no longer interested in dating someone “who only wanted to be an auto mechanic”—something that hadn’t bothered Vi in the least, since she had planned on having a wildly successful career in theater—Vi had decided to pull out all the stops.
If only she had bothered to run that plan by someone, they might have pointed out how wrong it was for a twenty-two-year-old man to agree to meet a fifteen-year-old in private. Or agree to kiss her less than chastely. Or suggest they go even further in the back seat of his father’s car. But she hadn’t because she was so sure she could handle “adult” matters on her own.
Yep, and you handled it like a real pro, Vi . . . a professional fool.
Having reached the end of the chow line, her mouth watering at the delicious smells rising off her tray, Vi joined Marcie, who was looking around for a place to sit. To Vi’s dismay, the soldier was still staring.
Victor, the older actor, stopped beside them. “Need help finding a table?”
“It is rather crowded,” Vi said.
“I doubt we’ll have trouble finding seats, though,” Marcie said with a surprising hint of bitterness. “If you haven’t noticed, Vi is attracting a lot of attention.”
“You mean all us gals are,” Vi corrected, because it was true.
Marcie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. A person would have to be blind not to see you’ve got all the curves. The rest of us look like chopped liver next to you.”
“Hey,” Vi said, stung, “there is absolutely nothing wrong with your figure. And I won’t be blamed for how I look. You want others to love what you’ve got? Love it yourself first. Or at least pretend to.”
“Ladies, ladies,” Victor interjected smoothly, soothingly. “Remember: we’re ambassadors for the United States now. Everything we say or do from here on out will be part of the public record. So sheathe those claws—everyone is tired and road weary—and eat. We have rehearsal in fifteen minutes.”
Clamping down on her irritation—because the actor was right about being road weary—Vi followed Marcie to the closest table, which also happened to be where the staring soldier was sitting. Vi pasted on a smile for the men they passed, even though what she really wanted to do was bean her travel buddy over the head with her tray. Did she not hear Vi say she didn’t want to talk with strangers tonight?
Why, oh why, couldn’t her travel buddy have been a male?
A man would’ve listened to her. Men Vi knew how to talk to. Men she could charm with a smile or a flutter of lashes over her big green eyes. Her power over the male sex was so unconscious, so innate, she hadn’t even realized she had it until she had entered fifth grade and the other girls began to hate her for no reason she could pinpoint. She truly hadn’t understood the problem at first. Yes, all the boys hung around her, but it wasn’t her fault. She wasn’t the prettiest girl in town. That was her sister, Fern. Nor was she the smartest, though she studied hard. Or the most athletic, despite being naturally good at dance. Or the most anything—except maybe sought after.
What she did possess was a genuine affection for men, and she’d never had any qualms letting them know it. She liked the way they looked and smelled, the way they sounded, the texture of their skin, their beards . . . everything. Or rather she liked most men. Not the rude ones, or the ones who assumed her body was up for grabs, or the ones who tried to boss her around. Or those who dared threaten Jimmy.
Especially not those.
“Hiya,” Marcie greeted the soldiers as she set her tray down on the