Any Day Now by Denise Roig Page A

the bartender told her, and to Ben he said, “She’s good folks. Treat her right.”
    They danced together — slow dances, fast dances, sexy dances. She was good with the moves, and Ben was feeling, like the guy said, pretty lucky. When she went to the bathroom, he slipped over to the jukebox and cued up the Karen Carpenter. He couldn’t have timed it better: she’d just come to sit on his lap when “Top of the World” came on.
    â€œSing it with me,” she said. Ben tried, but he couldn’t get the syncopation right, so in the end it was Jackie lip-synching in her white dress from the table.
    â€œHey, baby,” one guy called from the bar, “I’ll take you to the top o’ the world.”
    â€œAlready got my ticket for that ride,” she called back, and led Ben onto the floor again where she slow-danced him till midnight. “Touch me when we’re dancing,” she whispered in his ear at the very end, and when he did, sliding his hands down the white sides of her, she said, “That’s another Karen Carpenter song.”
    â€œYou’re ruining me,” he said.
    It was crazy, but lust was crazy. In the days after, he couldn’t stop thinking about the way they were together, the things they made each other feel. Dayna could really get into sex, but on her terms and timing, and some of the women since had been pretty hot. But not like this. He was a straight guy, not a bad lover, according to reports from the front, but stratospheric lovemaking had been for movies, not for real life, not his life.
    He made it to Tuesday before calling. It was looking good for both Friday and Saturday nights. “You’re getting greedy, Mr. Bolyer, sir,” she said.
    â€œ C’est vrai ,” he said. “That’s about the limit of my French.”“I bet the French is all there in your head like it is in mine,” she said a few nights later while he traced small circles on her back. “It’s still our mother tongue, right?”
    They’d already compared family notes and decided their mothers were so much alike they might as well be twins. “Mine drives me crazy,” Jackie said. “Five hundred per cent. I have no idea how my dad puts up with her.” Ben said his dad had taken to playing a lot of bingo at church. “It’s the only time Ma doesn’t bug him. She doesn’t want him to lose his place and miss out on a free supper for two at Friendly’s.”
    â€œPoor old guys,” said Jackie.
    â€œShe still asks me every time she sees me, ‘Been to mass lately?’ Like it’s the only thing that makes a person a good person, you know?”
    â€œMa doesn’t even ask any more,” Jackie said, moving down his body, lips to skin. “Still,” and she stopped for a moment, “She’s come through more than I expected. With Joey.” Jackie had hardly spoken about Joey since that first night. And he hadn’t brought it up. Why, when it only seemed to bring her down? “She even babysits more than before. Though it’s pretty much shattered her little mémé ideas about how kids are supposed to be.”
    â€œHey,” she added softly, sitting up to look at him, “I’ve got a confession.” His heart stopped. It was too soon. “My real name’s Jacinthe. I hate it.”
    He laughed, relieved. “Benoit,” he said and put out his hand.
    â€œThat’s my dad’s name,” she said. “Don’t make me cry.”
    And because it was all moving too fast, he started singing. It was the only song that was right there available to him, though he thought later he might have gone too far with the bare-your-heart lyrics: “But the love that I’ve found ever since you’ve been around has put me on the top of the world.”
    Maybe, she said when she slipped out at 3:00 a.m., maybe they could drive up to