Harold Carter sat alone at one of the smaller tables set against the back wall of Captain Jack's, nursing the still half full glass of beer he'd ordered a half hour before. Up on the stage at the other end of the bar, a singer was performing Gilbert O'Sullivan's hit from last year, 'Alone Again, Naturally,' a song that accurately described how his night was going. In fact, it pretty much described how his entire week had gone. Spring Break in Fort Lauderdale was supposed to be about cutting loose and getting lucky, or so all the magazine articles said. From the sandy haired nineteen year old's perspective, he had as much of a chance of scoring tonight as Senator McGovern had of beating President Nixon last November.
Five nine, with an average build and equally average looks, Harold had enjoyed mixed success with girls back in high school. He'd dated a few girls his first few years, but none of those relationships lasted long enough to get serious. Senior year, however, he thought he'd hit the jackpot when Susan Adams not only made it clear early on that she wanted to go steady, but before the year was out had gone all the way with him – twice.
It wasn't until he'd gone home to Blue Ridge Falls for the Christmas holidays that Harold realized his success with Susan had been due more to her desire to have a boyfriend – any boyfriend – than his charms. In the few months he'd been away, he'd been replaced both in Sue's affections and undoubtedly in her bed. Tony Hamilton, who worked at Mitchell's Hardware, might not have gotten a scholarship to some fancy out of state college, but he was there every Friday night. And as far as Susan was concerned, that was what mattered most.
In the seven months since he'd started at Northern Georgia State, Harold hadn't so much as been on a coffee date. A small college, at least compared to its more well known neighbors, the school had a male to female ratio more than two to one. A fact that elevated girls who might have only been a five elsewhere to an eight or nine, along with the expectation that they could be more choosy in deciding who to grace with their company. It was a situation that seemed to have followed him down to Florida.
"How come you're not sitting up front there with your friends?" a soft but unfamiliar voice to Harold's left asked.
It took a moment for Harold to realize the question had been addressed to him. Turning in the direction of the voice, he found a woman in the black slacks and white pirate blouse that served as the costume for all of Captain Jack's Buccaneers. What set the curly haired brunette apart from the other waitresses, at least to him, was that she was clearly older than the rest. Taking a guess, he thought her in her late thirties, or perhaps even as old as forty – which to him was pretty old. After all, his mother was forty-two.
She had a pleasant smile and bright blue eyes, but for the most part, the word that came to mind in describing her looks was ordinary. Not that he meant it in a bad way, but simply that if he'd passed her in the street she'd hardly draw his attention – at least not for her facial features.
The view a bit lower, however, was a different story. Filling out the low cut blouse was a bust that had to be at least thirty-eight inches, barely contained by the tight fitting top. None of the other servers came anywhere close; in fact, Harold couldn't remember ever meeting a girl who did.
"Excuse me?" Harold asked.
"I asked why you weren't sitting up front with your friends," she repeated, motioning with her head to a table only a dozen feet from the stage where four other young men sat, accompanied by an equal number of attractive young women, sat. "They are your friends, aren't they? I saw you all come in together."
"Well yes, sorta," Harold replied.
The quizzical look on the waitress' face said that needed a bit of explanation.
"It's just simple math, really," Harold offered, only answering the first half of her inquiry. "Five guys, four girls, who needs a fifth wheel?"
"That's just awful," the waitress, whose name Harold now noticed from her tag was June, said. "What kind of friends do that?"
"Well, they're not really my friends," Harold said, now explaining the second half, "at least not close ones. We just all live in the same dorm back at school. I was sort of a last minute addition to the road trip."
"How was that?" June asked.
There really was no reason for Harold to share the story, but then again, there wasn't any reason not to.
"Well, originally Steve Burke was supposed to be the fifth guy," he said. "They were using his car for the trip down. But he had to cancel the day before they were supposed to leave due to a family emergency."
"And if you all weren't, as you said, really friends," June asked, "what made them ask you?"
"I guess I was the only one still at the dorm that had a car," he explained, realizing as he did how much like a loser that made him sound.
"I see," June said, glancing back to the table in front where the four couples seemed to be having a pretty good time. "Just out of curiosity, who decides who has to leave if you meet an odd number of girls?"
"We draw lots," Harold replied. "Short straw leaves.".
"And how many times have you had to do that?" she further asked.
"Four," he replied.
"And you've been here how many nights?"
"Six," Harold said. "This is our last night; we're heading back north tomorrow."
"Why do I have the feeling that I wouldn't be going too far out on a limb if I were to guess that you've come up with the short straw more than anyone else?" June commented.
Harold didn't have to confirm her observation, the way he just glanced down at the glass in front of him did that well enough. By the third drawing he'd realized that he should've avoided the short straw, if only by random chance. His fourth loss seemed statistically impossible.
"You know you've been faked out, right?" June asked, pointing out the obvious.
"Yeah, I finally figured that," Harold admitted, realizing now that the drawings had been rigged.
"These guys let you drive them five hundred miles and ..."
"Actually it was closer to six," Harold automatically corrected her, realizing as he did that the added distance made no difference. "But we took turns driving and they paid for gas," he added, as if that made it all right.
"You're too nice, kid," June finally said. "Me, I'd have skipped out on them midweek and let 'em take Greyhound back to school."
Then, to his surprise, June reached down and picked up his now warm glass, replacing it with a full one from her tray. When he looked up, he was met with a broad smile.
"On the house, kid," June said.
"Harold," he said, figuring giving her his name was the least he should do.
"Do they call you Harry or Hal?" June asked.
"No, they don't," Harold replied, the inflection in his tone making it clear that he disliked either diminutive.
"Somehow I didn't think so," she said before making a half turn in the direction of the table that had originally ordered the drinks on her tray.
She paused a moment and turned back to Harold, leaning down so that only he could hear what she said.
"Let me share a little of the skinny that goes on around here," she whispered. "It might make you feel a little better. Those plastic friends of yours might see themselves as a bunch of Casanovas, but those girls they've been buying drinks for all night are townies, not horny coeds looking to party. The chances of any of them getting into their panties are, well, let's just say I have a better chance of waking up tomorrow and finding Rock Hudson in my bed."
Then with a soft chuckle, she was gone.
-=-=-=-
After finishing his drink, Harold decided that just sitting here watching everyone else have fun was hardly the best way to spend his last night in Fort Lauderdale. He left a tip next to the glass that was more than what the beer would've cost, then got up and headed for the exit.
It was a cool, clear night and since they'd all slept in that morning, Harold wasn't the least bit tired. Noticing the entrance across the road to the boardwalk that ran the length of the beach, he decided to take a little stroll. As he climbed the stairs, he saw that a number of other people had the same idea, but once he'd reached the boardwalk itself, he was disheartened to discover that most were couples. Still, it was a nice night, so he mentally flipped a coin and set off in a southerly direction.
After about a half mile, he wondered if he had subconsciously picked the direction opposite of most of the other walkers. The spot where he now stood was practically deserted and leaning on the railing overlooking the beach, he studied the bright full moon in the sky.
It was an activity he'd greatly enjoyed as a kid, having spent many a night out in the yard with the telescope he'd gotten for his thirteenth birthday. The gift had given him a brief surge in popularity among his classmates, at least until they discovered that he actually was more interested in looking at heavenly bodies than those that might be glimpsed if you pointed it towards the right window.
Eventually, he'd learned the topography of the lunar surface so well that now, even without his telescope, he could find the landing sites of the six lunar missions. Tranquility Base was easy, but the Taurus-Littrow valley, the site of the final Apollo flight last December, took a little more doing. As he remembered watching the last moon walkers on television, Harold also recalled where he'd originally planned to be this week.
"Well, hello stranger," said a now familiar voice from behind Harold, interrupting his thought. "We have to stop meeting like this or people are going to begin to talk."
Turning around, Harold confirmed the voice, finding June, now wrapped in a light sweater, standing there.
"What brings you this far off the beaten path?" June asked, adding that most of the tourist attractions were back the other way. Her own presence was explained by her sharing that she lived just down the road.
"Just enjoying the night air and appreciating the scenery," Harold replied, adding that he normally didn't get as good a view of the moon back at school.
"You did seem a bit lost in thought when I came up behind you," June observed. "I wasn't sure if I should disturb you."
