She smiled at me to indicate I was doing it right, and I felt confidence transfusing from her body into mine. Maybe the men in here wouldn’t think of us as sisters, but they would surely think there was no innocence poured into our clothes and shoes. The two men at the door practically leaped out of their own clothes to get the rejected young men to make a path for us, and they opened the doors quickly for us to a few choruses of catcalls and whistles. Ava ran her hand over the cheek of the door guard on our left and then down under his chin, holding her hand up as if she had an invisible wire tied to him and she were inviting him in with us. I thought I could hear his quickened breath and small moan of pleasure. His companion on the right smiled hopefully at me, but as Ava instructed, I touched him only with my eyes. It looked as if it had the same effect.
“Very good,” Ava said. “Feel the power? You’re the puppet master, and they are the puppets.”
We stepped in and then paused like two divers on a cliff about to dive into the sea.
Now, anyone judging my reaction to Dante’s Inferno would have to take into consideration the fact that I had never even been to a house party or a school party. I had never gone on a date or been alone with a boy. The only dancing I had ever done was in our house with one of my sisters and my daddy. I was up on the music and the dancing, and I had seen movie scenes shot in such places, but until that very moment, I never fully appreciated the effect such a sight would have on me.
My heart began to race as it never had, and I felt the blood rising through my neck and into my face. For a moment, I thought I might simply explode. My eyes couldn’t swallow what they drank in fast enough. And my ears felt as if they were opening wider and wider to take in all the music, laughter, giggles, and screams of joy and excitement before us. I felt Ava’s hand on my arm.
“Easy,” she said. “Remember. Slowly, slowly. Let it all come to you.”
We walked toward the bar. Wouldn’t they check to see my age? A small panic started at the base of my stomach. I could be terribly embarrassed. Why wouldn’t Ava think of this? I turned to signal my concern, but she didn’t move her gaze from the men who were standing between us and the bar. Instead, she just squeezed my hand hard, which I knew meant relax. I tried. The men separated, none of them taking their eyes off us.
“Ladies,” one tall, dark-haired boy wearing a pair of wire-frame glasses said. He bowed and gestured at the seats that had been quickly vacated for us. I thought he had a gentle, sweet face and warm hazel-brown eyes.
“Thank you,” Ava said, and took one seat, nodding at the other for me.
“What would you Miss Americas like to drink?” a shorter, blond-haired boy on my right asked us. He looked much younger, too. Maybe he was someone’s younger brother visiting.
“We’re just having Shirley Temples tonight,” Ava said.
One of the bartenders, a good-looking brown-haired man with the sort of sculptured male-model look Ava called face candy, stepped up quickly.
“Shirley Temples?” another young man asked, pushing his way between the other two. He was stouter and the least good-looking, with large lips and a nose that looked as if it had been broken a few times. His dull brown hair was uneven and stringy. He was very muscular, with thick forearms and shoulders, and looked as if he might bust out of his tight red shirt. “What the hell’s a Shirley Temple?”
Ava looked at the bartender for the explanation.
“It’s a nonalcoholic drink,” he said. “Lemonade, Seven-Up, or something like that with a touch of grenadine and a cherry on top.”
“Huh? Nonalcoholic? That’s no fun,” the bigger young man said, grimacing. “I’ll buy you a real drink.”
“Look at it this way,” Ava told him. “I can keep my wits about me in this den of sin and still keep my cherry, too.”
All the men laughed, especially the bartender, who set out to make our drinks.
“I’m Buddy Gilroy,” the boy with the glasses said. “You guys go to a college here or something?”
“Something,” Ava said.
“Maybe this is their college,” the bigger man said. “You can learn a lot here.” He laughed at his own joke.
“Why, are you teaching?” I asked. It just came out before I could think if I should say it. Ava had said she wanted to do all the talking first, but I didn’t like the way he was elbowing the others out of his way, especially Buddy.
All the men cheered and teased their big friend. Ava raised her eyebrows. I held my breath, but she smiled at me. Don’t get overconfident, I told myself.
“Yes, Professor,” Ava followed up. “What is your subject? And don’t tell me sex education.”
“He needs to go to that class himself,” someone behind him said. There was more laughter.
“Oh, yeah. Listen, if either of you needs lessons,” the now red-faced big man said, “I’d be happy to volunteer.”
“What if it turns out your friends are right and we know more than you do?” Ava asked him as the bartender brought our drinks. “You might have to go to the back of the line.”
All of them laughed again. His face reddened even a darker crimson. He struggled to think of an appropriate comeback.
“In this case, I’d be happy to learn more, and if you’re the teacher, I’d gladly stand there and wait my turn,” he said, and his friends cheered.
Ava smiled. “That’s fine,” she said. “As long as you know your place.”