There she was, sitting on the hood like she did every day, pink sleeveless blouse pulled taut over her full breasts and long, dungaree-clad legs stretched out in front of her. As always, her glossy, dark brown hair was swept up in an elaborate twist, and her face was perfectly painted, complete with bold, red lipstick. She was smoking—smoking—blowing thick clouds from her mouth and seeming as relaxed as you please. Barbara couldn’t help the way her eyes were drawn that direction, stealing glances in between listening to Jimmy and Roo go on about how much they could shave off Barbara’s best time.
Barbara’s gaze flicked to Jimmy’s Olds again, and this time, the young woman’s eyes locked on hers. Barbara’s breath caught, and she took a step back—right into Jimmy.
“Watch it!” he said. When Barbara didn’t respond, Jimmy nudged her.
“Sorry,” she said.
Jimmy followed her line of vision, grinned, and turned to talk to Roo. By then, the young woman had slipped off the hood of the car and begun sauntering over. Barbara tore her eyes away and looked at the guys, but they were busy. Roo had gone back to fiddling with the car’s engine, showing Jimmy what he’d done. When Barbara turned her head forward again, the young woman was still focused on her. Barbara swallowed and took a few steps.
The woman stopped in front of her. “Hey,” she said. She stuck out her hand. “Dottie McAllister.”
Barbara gulped, taking Dottie’s hand in her own and hoping she didn’t notice how clammy it was. “Barbara Peterson.”
Dottie’s bright red lips curved upward in a sassy smile. “Well, Babs—can I call you Babs?—it’s a treat to meet you.”
“Are you Jimmy’s girl?” Barbara blurted. She wanted to smack herself, but it was all she could come up with.
“So what if I were?” Dottie’s arched eyebrow dared Barbara to press the issue. “What’s it to you, huh?”
“N-Nothing,” Barbara replied. “Just wondering. He brings you with him.”
“As it happens, I’m not Jimmy’s girl, no. He’s my step-brother.”
That explained their relationship, not why she was there. “Are you here for one of the others, then?” She didn’t see Roo as this woman’s type, nor Copper, but maybe she was into Frank or Warren Peace. She certainly wasn’t there to help with the car.
Dottie leaned in so close Barbara could smell the combination of her makeup and perfume. “Maybe,” she said, her voice low and breathy, “I don’t come here to watch the boys.”