Stella came out of the office as he slammed the car door shut. She came down the concrete path into the sunshine.
The foreman said very quickly: “That’s one of them. Nice little thing, ain’t she?”
Denny looked over casually and then leant forward. He wasn’t expecting anything as good as Stella. He hesitated, and the foreman, seeing him wavering, said: “Tough on those girls. They seem pretty anxious to get to Miami. It’d be a long walk for them.”
Stella came timidly towards the Lincoln. Her eyes looked appealingly into Denny’s. He put his hand to his tie and then opened the door. “You the little girl who’s looking for a ride?” he asked, sliding out of the car again.
Stella looked up at him. “We want to get to Miami,” she said. “We won’t be a nuisance, honest.”
The foreman noticed that the tall girl had kept out of sight. He grinned evilly. She was fly, that one, he thought.
Denny nodded. “Sure, I shall be glad to give you a lift.” He looked round. “Where’s the other one?” he asked the foreman.
The tall girl had been waiting her cue. She came out of the office and walked with long strides to the car.
Denny stared at her, his face falling a trifle. He didn’t quite like the look of her. “You the other one?” he asked, raising his hat awkwardly.
The tall girl smiled with her mouth. “Thank you,” she said. “May I introduce my friend here and myself. This is Stella Fabian and I’m Gerda Tamavich.”
Denny would have preferred to have left her behind, but he had committed himself, so he just smiled and said: “Well, that’s fine. I’m Denny Merlin from New York. If you’re all set, let’s go.”
Gerda glanced at Stella and opened the front door of the car. “You sit with Mr. Merlin. I’ll sit at the back.” She revealed her teeth as she turned to Denny. “I like plenty of room. My legs are a little long.”
This arrangement suited Denny all right. He helped Stella into the car and climbed in beside her. Gerda got in the back.
The foreman touched his peaked cap, but none of them looked at him. Denny felt that he had been impertinent, and the other two hated him. Denny rolled the Lincoln slowly out of the station drive into Ocean Avenue and headed down Broadwalk.
At the cross-roads a traffic cop signalled him to stop. “What the hell does he want?” Denny asked, as the cop moved over to him.
The two girls sat very stiffly in the car, watching the cop. Gerda took out a handkerchief and held it near her face.
The cop saluted Denny with a friendly smirk. “Goin’ to Miami, sir?” he asked, putting a large foot on the running-board.
Denny nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Can’t I?”
“At your risk,” the cop returned. “Sorry to stop you, but we’re warning all traffic. Hurricane’s on the way an’ it’s likely to catch you up around Fort Pierce.”
Denny nodded. “I know,” he said, “the Conoco people told me. I’m going to get as far as I can. I’ll stop at Fort Pierce if it looks tough.”
The cop saluted. “O.K., sir, just as long as you know.” He took his foot off the running-board and waved them on.
Denny scowled into the small driving mirror. “They’re making a hell of a fuss about a storm,” he said. “It’s got to be mighty bad to stop me.”
Gerda leant forward. “You’re a stranger to Florida, ain’t you?” she asked.
“Yeah, what makes you ask?”
“It sticks out a yard. Folks who live around this district take these hurricanes seriously.”
Denny was bored with this talk about hurricanes. The sun was still very hot and strong and there was only a mild breeze coming from the coast. There was not a sign of a rain cloud anywhere. He glanced down at Stella, who sat away from him in the corner of the seat. From that angle he could see her firm beautiful curves and he wished that Gerda wasn’t with them. He said, “You don’t worry about hurricanes, do you?”
Stella glanced at him and shook her head. “I guess not,” she said. “I’ve seen a good few, and they don’t really amount to anything.”
Denny liked her voice. “What are you two girls, anyway?” he asked. “What’s the idea of hitch-hiking?”
Gerda took charge of the conversation. “We’re looking for a job,” she said, almost in his ear. Her voice was low and flat. “Daytona Beach bored us, so we thought we’d go on to Miami. I guess we’ll find something there.”
Denny turned into the old Dixey Highway that led to Port Orange. He trod on the gas, sending the Lincoln forward with a sudden push. “Well, what do you do?” he wanted to know, looking with interest at Stella’s nicely rounded knees.
“Who we can,” Gerda said, with a harsh little laugh. “Don’t we, Stella?”
Stella didn’t say anything.
“I see. That sounds sort of bad,” Denny said, wondering what she meant. “I’m in real estate myself. I was wondering if either of you could shorthand or something. I might be able to get you fixed up.”
Gerda laughed again. Denny frowned. He didn’t like her hissing little laugh so close to his ear. “Don’t do that,” he said sharply. “What’s funny about it?”
“Nothin’,” she said quickly, “we think you’re swell to offer, don’t we, Stella?”
Stella said after a pause: “You see, we do a song an’ dance act. I guess office routine is way up the wrong street.”
Denny grunted. “Sure,” he said, “I understand that. If you’re an act, you don’t want any sort of job. What makes you think Miami’ll take to you?”
“Oh, we don’t know,” Gerda said, “we just hopin’. When you’ve pushed around as we have, hope is about the one thing that gets you anywhere, and nice-looking Stella.” She laughed again.
Denny watched her in the driving mirror. “So Stella helps too, does she?” he said for something to say.
“Sure, it’s her capital to look nice,” Gerda said with a tiny sneer in her voice.
“And what do you do?” Denny said curiously.
“Me? I guess I run the outfit. We’ve got along all right so far, haven’t we, Stella?”
Stella didn’t say anything. She shifted uncomfortably and her short skirt rode up a few inches. Denny could see a long expanse of bare thigh and he pursed his lips. If it wasn’t for Gerda in the back, he could go for this honey in a big way he told himself.
They swept through Port Orange and on to the U.S. Highway 1. They were now in the heart of the East Coast citrus country and the road curved across lowland meadows, pink with rose mallow. The mandarin trees were heavy with fruit. Denny thought it was all very beautiful.
“This part of the country does things to me,” he said. “Don’t you think it’s swell?”
Stella said: “You don’t think of the ugly things in life after this, do you?” She spoke very tensely, as if she meant every word.
Denny glanced at her curiously. He wondered what sort of a life she had been leading. She didn’t look like a little tramp. He shook his head, giving up.
They stopped at New Smyrna for petrol. Evening was drawing on rapidly and the sun, wrapped in a yellowish haze, was sinking behind the skyline. Denny got out of the car to stretch his legs and the two girls followed his example. Up the road they could see a long line of trucks moving slowly towards them, crowded with farm hands and bedding.
Denny asked the mechanic who was operating the gasoline pump what it was all about.
The man shrugged. “Oh, I guess they’re coming in because of the hurricane,” he said indifferently. “The radio says it’ll hit us before long.”
Denny felt a sudden wave of apprehension. “Listen, I’m goin’ through to Miami tonight. This hurricane won’t stop me, will it?”
The man screwed the cap on the gas tank and hung up his pump hose. “That depends on you, mister,” he said. “Two bucks, please.”
Denny paid him and walked over to the edge of the road, where the two girls were watching the trucks pass.
