Summer of '69(99)

“Luke,” she says. “Did something happen to Patty?”

Luke smacks both hands down on the desk and bellows, “You tell me! Where is she? She’s not at home, she’s not at the movie theater, and her brother, that idiot, said he hasn’t seen her, so that leaves you. I thought you two were out whoring around since she said you broke up with your darkie boyfriend, but look, here you are.” He leans across the desk and grabs Kirby by the wrist.

“Let go of me,” she says softly. She doesn’t want to wake any guests.

“Where is she?” Luke asks. He twists Kirby’s wrist and it hurts so bad, she’s sure it will snap.

“I have no idea,” Kirby says, but her words aren’t convincing even to her own ears.

“Tell me!” he roars.

The pain in Kirby’s wrist is building; the more she struggles to free herself, the sharper the pain becomes.

She went to a party, Kirby nearly says, on Chappy—but before she can get the words out, she hears a deep voice.

“Hey!”

They both turn and Luke releases Kirby’s wrist. It’s Mr. Ames, sweet, kind, understanding Mr. Ames, who looks anything but that at this moment. He grabs Luke by the front of the T-shirt and nearly lifts him off the ground. “You bothering the lady?”

“No,” Luke says.

“This is Luke Winslow, my housemate’s boyfriend,” Kirby says. “He came here looking for Patty, but I don’t know where she is.”

Mr. Ames lets Luke go. “You have no business showing up at this hotel to harass people. I saw you hurting Miss Foley here. How ’bout I call the Edgartown Police?” He pulls his walkie-talkie off his hip.

Luke hangs his head and starts to blubber.

Kirby rolls her eyes. “He must be drunk,” she says. “How did you get here, Luke? Did you drive?”

He raises his head. “Where is she?” he asks plaintively. “I just want to know the truth. Is she out with someone else?”

“For crying out loud,” Mr. Ames says. “I’m calling the police.”

“Wait,” Kirby says. She comes out from behind the desk and speaks into Mr. Ames’s ear. “The senator will probably be back any minute. I don’t think we should call the police.”

Mr. Ames checks his watch. “You’re right.”

“Could I maybe…borrow your car and drive him home?” Kirby asks.

“Where does he live?” Mr. Ames asks.

“Chilmark,” Kirby says. “Off the State Road.”

“That’s too far,” Mr. Ames says. “You’ll be gone forty minutes at least. Call the kid a cab.”

“Okay,” Kirby says. She phones for a taxi while Luke collapses onto the sofa in the lobby and Mr. Ames stands guard over him. Kirby thinks back on all the quiet shifts she worked when she longed for action, and now she has action…on the worst of all possible nights. Senator Kennedy could appear at any moment, and instead of walking into a warm, welcoming lobby, he’ll see Luke, who is alternately crying into his hands and angrily muttering that he’s going to make Patty pay for what she’s doing.

Maybe they should call the police, Kirby thinks. Yes, they should. Luke is dangerous. But then Kirby thinks about Mrs. Bennie’s warnings and reminders. If Mrs. Bennie finds out that the police showed up at the inn on the senator’s first night because of a friend of Kirby’s…

They need to get him out of there.

“We need to get him out of here,” Kirby says, mostly to herself.

Outside, the cab pulls up.

“Let’s go, Luke,” Kirby says with false cheer.

“Go sleep it off, buddy,” Mr. Ames says.

Reluctantly, Luke gets to his feet.

“You got it from here?” Mr. Ames asks. “I’m going back to my post.”

“All set,” Kirby says. She pulls Luke toward the front door. “Come on.”

Luke stumbles down the stairs to the taxi. He’s so drunk—and he’s also, very clearly, a psychopath. This role-playing that he and Patty have been doing is just a euphemism or else a flat-out cover-up for him abusing her.

He doesn’t own me, Patty said. But he does in a way, Kirby sees now. He hurts her to keep control, and she lets him.

The cabdriver gets out to open the door for Luke. He’s young and slight of frame, a pipsqueak. Honestly, he looks to be about Jessie’s age. Kirby wishes they had sent someone else.

“Where you headed?” the driver asks.

“He’s going to Chilmark,” Kirby says. “State Road.”

“I’m going to Oak Bluffs,” Luke says. “Narragansett Avenue.”

“No!” Kirby says. She has, wisely, brought five dollars from the petty-cash drawer to pay for the taxi. “He’s going to Chilmark. The address is…Luke, what’s your address?”

Luke crawls into the back seat. “Narragansett Avenue, Oak Bluffs.”

Kirby presses the five-dollar bill into the pipsqueak cabbie’s hand. “Take him to Chilmark, only to Chilmark. He lives off the State Road.”

“But where off the State Road?” the cabbie asks. “There aren’t many streetlights up-island and there are a lot of houses tucked back in the woods. I don’t want to be driving around all night looking for the right place.”