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Welcome to the Church of The Reverend Cotton Mather.  This story is
the sole property of the author, and may not be copied or downloaded 
for the intent of profit. Permission is freely given for anyone to 
download or copy for their personal pleasure or use, as long as 
there is no intent to charge money or barter for the privilege of 
acquiring this material.

   (Copyright 2005, revisions c. 2007, R.C. Mather)

E-Mail all comments to RevCottonMather at hotmail dot com
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THE COMPETITIVE EDGE:
PLAYING THE GAME III

A Novel

by R.C. Mather



- 44 -

THE DANCE



I was nervous as hell.

'Why am I nervous?'

'Because you don't know how this is all going to turn out,' said the
cautious Sean, perched on my shoulder like an albatross.

'The game is afoot, as the British say, and I'm in it all the way.'

'You're an idiot,' retorted the cautious Sean, just before he
disappeared.

I adjusted my bow tie for about the twentieth time. I was standing
in front of the full-length mirror on the back of my parents' closet
door. I was wearing my father's tuxedo. My hair was freshly cut, I
was as dapper as I could get, and I was jittery. It was all on the
line.

'I'd be much surer of myself if this was a soccer game,' I told
myself.

I looked at my watch for about the fiftieth time. I clomped down the
stairs and paced in the family room. I still had another fifteen
minutes to wait before I left.

Michael and his girlfriend, Gayle, were in the family room with my
dad, trying to watch TV. I kept on walking in front of them.

Finally, Michael growled, "Sean! Sit down, for Chrissakes."

I glanced at them, startled to find them in the room with me.
"Can't," I said.

Gayle was lounging with her back against my brother's arm. She was a
tall brunette, leggy with what my dad called "good, childbearing
hips," which I loosely translated as having somewhat of a wide ass.
It didn't matter to Michael, and it didn't matter to me. She was very
nice, and she loved my brother as deeply as he loved her. They shared
an apartment out in the sticks, where it was cheaper to live, and
they were planning on getting married in the fall. My mom, along with
Gayle and her mother, were in wedding planning mode, which meant all
other things were put on hold until further notice. In fact, there
were books of sample invitations spread out on the coffee table, with
pieces of scratch paper marking pages in some of them.

"It's okay, Sean. Pace if it makes you feel better," said Gayle with
an indulgent smile.

"Was I this stupid when I was his age?" asked Michael rhetorically.

"I didn't know you then," said Gayle, "but you probably were."

My dad grunted and nodded.

"Thanks a lot, both of you," grumbled Michael.

Finally, it was time to leave. With one last adjustment of my tie
and a kiss on the cheek from Gayle, I headed out.

I drove over and parked the car in the driveway. I got out, gave my
tuxedo jacket a tug to make sure it was unwrinkled, and walked to the
front door. I knew her parents would want to take photos. It was
standard operating procedure for parents. I knocked on the door, and
her father opened it.

With a smile, he said, "Come in, Sean. She'll be down in a minute."

I stood by the front door, still nervous, until I saw her coming
down the stairs. As she has nearly always done in the past, she took
my breath away. She truly was beautiful, and I felt honored to be in
her presence. She was wearing a pale lavender gown with delicate
white lace at the neckline and the hem, and there were tiny white
flowers woven into her long hair.

She smiled at me fondly. "I think my dad's going to want to take
some pictures," she said. She took my hand and led me into their
formal living room.

We stood together, arm in arm, posing for the camera. We put up with
it with as much tolerance as we could. It was a pain for us, but the
parents just didn't see their young ones dressed up very often, and
they always seemed to want to mark the occasion with photographs.
Finally, after posing this way and that, standing side by side or in
each other's arms and our heads turned toward the camera, they felt
they had enough. Either that, or they had run out of film. We were
free to leave.

"Have fun!" Her parents stood in the doorway and watched us walk
down the sidewalk to my car. Her brother came out and stood with her
parents as we left, and we waved to him, as well. As I opened the
door, she brushed back her strawberry-blonde hair and leaned toward
me. She kissed me softly.

"What's that for?" I asked, glad nevertheless to receive her kiss.

"For luck," said Molly. She slipped gracefully into the passenger
seat of my car.



* * * * * * * * * *



We were heading to a resort hotel where the event was being held in
a giant tent out on the spacious lawns. Dr. Osgood knew we were
coming, and had arranged for our entrance, despite the fact we no
longer attended school there. He was standing at the entrance when we
arrived, and he smiled as he saw us.

"Ah, Mr. Porter, and Ms. O'Toole. Welcome to Prom."

"Thank you for allowing this, Dr. Osgood," said Molly graciously.

"Anything at all for two of my all-time favorite students," he said,
his eyes crinkling. He shook our hands and ushered us inside.

The event had been going on for over an hour, so just about
everybody was finished eating. I looked around at all the kids,
dressed up in their finest.

"Were we ever really this young?" I whispered to Molly.

She smiled. "And younger, and probably more foolish," she replied.

Some of the kids were looking at us. We began walking around the
perimeter of the room, looking for a group I knew would be together.
As we walked, we saw a number of friends and acquaintances from our
own high school days, and we waved and said hello, receiving a number
of stares and whispers in return. We found the group we were
searching for, over on the far side. Tracy Evanson, my first call
from Kansas City and my Number One Co-Conspirator, had her friends
arranged in a large semicircle, just like we had planned.

Molly and I came up on the group quietly. Tracy and her date were
facing us. I knew she had seen us, but she gave no indication. Her
date looked at us a little curiously, and then didn't pay us any
mind. He had been well coached, and he was following the script.
Stephen and Tara were there, but they were engrossed in the
conversation and didn't see us.

As we got closer, Brandon leaned toward the pale-haired girl sitting
next to him. They had their backs to us, facing Tracy and her date in
the circle of chairs. "He's treated you like shit," he said heatedly.
Even from where I was standing, I could see the hurt in his
expression. "He can't love you more than I do."

Kayla sighed, and I heard something in her voice that nearly broke
my heart. 'Is it longing? Desperation?' I wanted to rush to her side
and scrub away all the memories of my failings, cleanse her soul of
the smudges I put there.

She didn't react to Brandon's declaration. She had apparently heard
it before. Quietly, she said, "I've always thought Sean was the only
one for me, for as long as I've known him. But what if I'm wrong?"

I stepped closer and leaned down to whisper in her ear. "What if
you're right?" I said.

She whirled around, disbelief flooding her face, until she saw me.
She glanced at Molly, but the recognition wasn't there at that point.
She stood up, her hand to her mouth, and stared at me with wide eyes.

"Sean?"

"Hey," I said. "Don't I at least get a hug?"

She knocked over her chair in her haste to come to me, and she leapt
into my arms, hugging me around my neck as tightly as she had ever
clung to me.

"How did you... why... where..." It was a struggle for her to speak.
For myself, I didn't trust my voice to respond very well, either, so
I just held her, glad for the reaction I got. My eyes were stinging,
and I closed them and savored the moment.

Finally, she loosened up and looked at me. She had that gleam in her
eye again. I glanced over at the rest of her party. Stephen and Tara
were standing, holding hands, watching Kayla and me. Tracy had a huge
smile on her face, and her date just looked perplexed. Brandon was
standing, also, and he looked angry.

"You set me up, didn't you?" Kayla said with a happy smile.

I nodded. "I had Tracy's help all the way," I said. I nodded to
Tracy, and she jumped up and down, clapping her hands in joy.

Kayla twisted around in my arms and looked over at her friend.
"You," she said in mock accusation. She turned back to me. "And you.
You were so sure of yourself, and you were so sure of me, weren't
you?"

"Actually, no," I admitted. "But I had to do something to get your
attention."

She gazed at me with shining eyes. "Ooooh, it's a dangerous game you
play, Sean Porter."

"But did it work?" I asked, already suspecting the answer.

She looked into my eyes for a moment before answering. "Maybe," she
admitted, favoring me with a knowing grin.

She finally let me go and we both turned toward the group. Everybody
was standing together, except for Brandon. He stood off to one side.
He had high spots of color on his cheeks, and his fists were
clenched. I knew, in that moment, I had made an enemy for life. I
stepped over to him, but he stepped back, away from me.

"Look, Brandon, I understand you're upset," I said.

"You understand shit," he snarled.

"I'm not surprised you're here, and I'm not surprised at your
reaction. Maybe I can make it up to you a little."

"How could you possibly make it up to me?" He looked at me as if I
had lost my mind.

I stepped up to him and stood next to him, so we were looking back
at the group. "You know that girl?" I asked, nodding toward Molly.

"Sure," he answered tersely.

"She's one of my very best friends," I said.

"So? Lucky for you."

"No, lucky for you," I said. "She agreed to come with me tonight,
and she's agreed to be your Prom date for the rest of the evening."

That made him swivel his head and look at me. "What?"

"As a favor to me, she's going to spend Prom with you."

He started to protest and walk away, but I took him by the arm and
brought him close to me again. I leaned in toward him and said,
"Think of it this way. There's only one other boy here who has the
same opportunity as you tonight. You know what that is?"

"What?"

"To claim to have a Homecoming Queen as their date to their Senior
Prom."

I could see the wheels turning. He was a smart kid. The only reason
I disliked him was because of his relationship with my Luscious.
Hell, if she liked him, I should be able to find some qualities in
him that I could like. Right? Right.

Besides, he knew he had lost. He was bright enough to understand
that. He could either storm out in anger, or he could swallow his
pride and take the gift that was offered, pale though it might be in
his eyes.

He turned to me. "What would have happened if Kayla had said no to
you?" he asked quietly.

I looked him straight in the eye. "Molly and I would have danced the
night away. Tonight is for dancing. Tomorrow is for sorrow."

He stared at me for a moment, and then he tersely nodded. "Okay," he
said.

I took a big breath in relief. Before I could do more than relax,
though, he grabbed my arm and squeezed it hard. He was stronger than
he looked, and he held me tight, even though I didn't make any effort
to jerk away from him. "I still don't like you, Porter. I love her.
I've told her often enough. But she loves you, and I don't know why.
If you hurt her in any way..."

Under any other circumstances, his implication would have been
almost laughable. There, dressed up and surrounded by our friends, I
understood his sentiment completely. "I can't say I'm crazy about
you, either, Brandon. But for Kayla's sake I'll smile and get along
the best I can. Deal?"

"Deal," he said.

Everybody knew who Molly was, of course, but I made the
introductions anyway. Molly, gracious as she nearly always was, sat
down next to Brandon, and I held Kayla's seat for her before taking
the chair next to her. We had acquired an audience, a bunch of
students and a few chaperones, during our entrance. Once we settled
down, though, the small crowd dispersed. I could hear a lot of quiet
talking over the music as they wandered away, back into their own
social groups. We were creating a new Class of '85 legend, a story
that would be retold at every reunion this class would ever hold.

"You really know how to make an entrance," said Stephen, a look of
admiration on his face.

"Boldly go," I said, "or down in flames trying."

"Is that going to become your new slogan?" asked Tracy with a smile.

"It's been my mantra for many months now," I replied.

"You two, you've been planning this for a long time, haven't you?"
asked Kayla, looking first to me, and then to Tracy.

Tracy giggled. "It's been so hard keeping quiet about it," she said
delightedly. "I'm so glad it's over."

"You owe me the whole story," said Kayla to her friend. "But not
right now." She turned to me. "Right now, you owe me a dance. Or two."

I stood up and held my hand out to her. She took it and stood.
"We'll be back in a couple of hours," I said to the group. "I've got
the boogie-woogie fever, and she's got the cure."



* * * * * * * * * *



Back in early October, on the bus ride back from the Georgetown
tournament, I began to conceive what eventually became known, in my
head, as The Plan. I loved Kayla, and I knew she loved me, but I had
to do something to get us past this block in our relationship. It was
a barrier of my own making, and I had to be the one to destroy it.

I began by making a list. What needed to be done? In what order?
Alongside that, I also made a small chart of the pros and cons of
moving forward with the idea. The two conclusions I came up with: it
would either work gloriously, or it would fail spectacularly. If it
worked according to my plan, she would be mine again, with no
reservations. If it failed, I would know where I stood. I would
grieve over my lost love, and then I would find a way to move on.

My phone call to Kayla in September, the one that interrupted her
slumber party, got me thinking about co-conspirators. I settled on
Tracy Evanson, because I felt I could rely on her. She was a buddy's
younger sister, she liked me, and she was one of Kayla's friends. Not
her best friend, but within her circle, close enough to know her
well, close enough to be able to talk to her about her dates and her
plans.

I wrote her a letter, explaining what I wanted to do. I waited for
an agonizing couple of weeks until I got her reply. She thought it
was a great idea, and she helped me out by making some suggestions.
She said she would work on making sure Kay and the rest of the group
planned on spending Prom together, and she promised to keep it all a
secret.

She became my confidante and my mole. She relished the role. I had
the feeling she imagined herself as some sort of super-spy, on a case
of international intrigue. Well, it was at least interstate intrigue.
I enjoyed reading about her subterfuge on my behalf, as she wrote to
me faithfully at least every other week.

We developed a working plan, and by the time the NCAA tournament was
starting, I had to begin lining up my Cast of Characters. When I got
to Kansas City, I called Tracy first. She gave me an update on
progress, and we talked about how I could crash Prom.

That required a second Kansas City call, this time to Molly. I
explained my predicament to her.

"Sean Porter, you are one of a kind," she said with a laugh. "What
do you want me to do?"

"Can you be my Prom date? At least temporarily?"

"Of course," she replied. "We never got a chance to go to Prom when
we were going out. It'll be kind of a sentimental journey."

"Here's the deal, though," I said. "If this goes well, I'm going to
have to abandon you in the middle of Prom."

"I know that, silly," she said. "I'll be there to succor and comfort
the loser, if there is one."

"You sure you don't mind?" I asked.

She laughed, the old light-hearted Molly I had loved what seemed
like such a long time ago. "Anything for you, sweetie. I'll find some
younger man and throw myself at him if I have to."

"I don't think it'll come to that, Mol. If anything, you'll have to
hold a lottery. Your dance card will fill up quickly."

"One thing, though, Sean."

"Just name it," I said.

"If things go the way you want, you'll be saving the last dance for
Kayla. Just reserve one for me, too. Okay?"

"You got it," I said.

And, finally, I called my best friend, Jake. Who better to keep me
informed than Kay's own brother?

"You want to do what? Man, you like dancing on the edge of the
razorblade, don't you?"

"No, actually I don't, but do you have a better idea?" I asked.

"No," he admitted. "At least let me run it by Jaimie and see what
she says. That all right?"

"No, God, don't do that," I pleaded. "Jaimie's her best friend. She
won't be able to keep this to herself."

Jake chuckled. "You don't know Jaimie as well as you think you do,"
he said.

"Well... all right, if you think it's a good idea."

"It's a good idea, Seanster. Trust me."

"Just give me a heads-up on anything that develops at home. Please?"

"You got it, dude." He paused. "Man, for both of your sakes, I hope
this works."

"Yeah, me too," I said.

The plan was well and truly in motion. Over Christmas, we kept each
other updated. Tracy managed to maneuver everybody into going to Prom
as a group. She also convinced Brandon to ask Kayla to go to Prom
with him. He understood it was just as friends, though I was sure he
had hopes it would blossom. He was an unwitting accomplice in my
scheme, about which I had some momentary guilt pangs. He asked Kayla
about Prom just before their holiday break, and she put him off at
the time. When she asked me about when I would be back for the
summer, I knew she was thinking about Prom, and I deliberately
misdirected her, telling her I wouldn't be back until after Prom. All
according to The Plan. Tracy let me know in a letter after I returned
to school that Kayla agreed to go with Brandon, putting the last
piece in place.

After that, it was all up to Tracy. At Prom, she had to arrange
everybody so that she could see us come up, and Kayla and Brandon
couldn't. Once she saw Molly and me as we came in and stopped to talk
with Dr. Osgood, she managed to direct the conversation in such a way
I could find an entry. It was precision, down to the second, and I
could only admire Tracy's resourcefulness.



* * * * * * * * * *



After monopolizing Kayla's time on the dance floor for a long time,
we came back to the group. I asked Tracy to dance, and her date, a
junior named Ronny Stark, took Kayla out to the floor for a slow song.

Tracy looked up into my eyes as we danced. "How's it going,
loverboy?" she asked with a twinkle.

"So far, so good," I said. "I don't know how to thank you, Trace.
You were magnificent."

She blushed just a little. "I was, wasn't I?" she said, almost in
surprise.

"Yup, and then some," I said. "Mikey ought to be very proud of the
way his sister has grown up."

Tears formed in her eyes. She didn't say a word, but I could read
the thanks in her look. She put her head on my shoulder, and I
shuffled us around the dance floor as her tears dampened my jacket.

I saw Molly dancing with my brother a few feet away. Stephen had
grown a lot. He was taller than Molly, even in her heels. Molly threw
her head back and laughed at something Stephen said to her, and
Stephen was smiling confidently. 'He has grown a lot.'

Tara was dancing with Brandon. He was moving stiffly, and Tara had
to move her feet out of his way a lot. Kayla was with Tracy's date,
Ronny. They weren't talking, and in fact were barely moving. They
were merely swaying back and forth, in time with the music.

Toward the end of the evening, Molly took me aside.

"Are you going to the lock-in?" she asked.

"I don't think so," I said. "I'm not sure I want to spend the night
with a bunch of kids. Besides, Kay and I still have some things to
talk out."

"Okay," she said. "I'm going to take Brandon with me. I'm meeting
some people downtown, and he'll fit right in."

"You sure? I mean, we could drop him off at home. He won't like it,
but too bad."

"No, it's fine," she said. "He's willing to go along with me, hang
out with some college kids." She gazed fondly at me for a moment.
"He's not a bad guy, Sean."

I grimaced a little. "Yeah," I acknowledged. "I know. I just have a
thing about him."

"Because he has a thing about Kayla."

"Yeah."

She gave me a kiss on my cheek, and then she turned and went back to
Brandon, who had been waiting by the chairs. With a wave, she led him
toward the door.

Kayla had been talking with Tracy and Tara. As I came up to her side
and put my arm around her waist, she turned to me.

"Is it okay with you if we all go back to my house for awhile?" she
asked with a smile.

"Anything you want," I said. "You're the boss."

"Wow," she said. "The Boss is calling me the boss. Wait'll this gets
around."

I shrugged. "Anybody who really knows me already knows the truth," I
said.

Ronny took Stephen and Tara in his car, so Kayla and I could drive
over by ourselves. I drove slowly, waiting to see if she had anything
to say, but she sat there, calm and serene, willing to let the
silence gather. It was tempting to fill the silence with inane
conversation, but I resisted. 'Say little,' I repeatedly told myself.
'Less chance of saying something really stupid.'

When we got to Kayla's house, her parents met us at the door.

"Well, hello, Sean," said Mr. Lehigh with a smile. He held out his
hand. "Why am I not surprised to see you?"

"Because Jake's got a big mouth?" I replied with a smile as I shook
his hand.

"That, and I was once young and in love, too," he replied with a
knowing twinkle in his eye.

"And now you're not?" asked Mrs. Lehigh. She was looking at her
husband.

He glanced at her and smiled softly. "Now I'm old and in love," he
said. He stepped aside and ushered us into the house.

The girls huddled together for a moment. Kayla turned to us. "Do you
boys mind if we go get into more comfortable clothes? I love being
dressed up, but these shoes are killing me." She lifted up her foot
to show off her very narrow, pointed high heels, white to match her
backless dress.

"Go ahead," I said. "In fact, I think we'll change, too. Stephen?
You want to run home and get out of these monkey suits?"

"Ronny and I have a change of clothes," he said. "We were prepared
for the lock-in, just in case."

The girls went upstairs together. "Just in case?" I asked.

Stephen glanced to make sure the girls were out of earshot. "You
know, just in case..."

"Things went badly," I finished.

Stephen merely nodded.

"Okay, I'll just get rid of the jacket and tie," I said. I hung up
the jacket in the front closet, and took off my bow tie and draped it
over the hanger. I loosened the top buttons of my shirt. Mr. and Mrs.
Lehigh were in the kitchen, getting snacks ready for us. Stephen and
Ronny took their bags downstairs to change, and I went into the
kitchen to help.

"Jake tells me you've got a busy summer ahead, Sean," said Mr. Lehigh.

"It looks like I'll be living out of my car," I said. "Gone most of
the week, home to rest up on the weekends."

He smiled as he glanced at me. "Hmmm, maybe I can talk to somebody
about making sure my daughter's schedule doesn't conflict with yours
too much."

I laughed. "And who would you have to talk to about that?" I asked.

He jerked his head toward Mrs. Lehigh. "Why, my boss, of course."

Mrs. Lehigh merely smiled, pleased at the acknowledgement.

"That would be... wonderful," I said gratefully.

I heard the girls clambering down the stairs, so I loaded up a tray
with sodas and snacks and took them to the basement. By the time I
got everything set up in front of the television, everybody was
ready. Tara and Stephen flopped to the floor. Stephen put his arm
around Tara's shoulder, and she leaned in against him. Tracy and
Ronny took up the far half of the couch, and Kay sat at the other
end. She had put on jeans and a big, fluffy sweater against the chill
of the basement.

We put a movie into the VCR, and after a few minutes Kayla snuggled
up to me. 'Life is good,' I reminded myself.



* * * * * * * * * *



Within a couple of hours, Tracy was sleeping against Ronny's
shoulder. Ronny's eyes were half closed as he, too, began to nod off.
Jake had returned from the Jacks house, next door, where he and
Jaimie had been babysitting for Kyle, so Tara and Stephen thought it
would be a good opportunity to try to sneak into Tara's room
together. I was too comfortable to argue with them, and so I just let
them carry on like teenagers in lust.

I thought Kayla might have been dozing, too. It gave me time to
reflect over the past several months, and the past several hours.

Did I hit a home run? It was hard to tell. I didn't strike out; the
ball was in the air. Maybe a ground-rule double? Too soon to call.
'Maybe I shouldn't think in baseball terms.'

Was I satisfied with the results of my elaborate plan so far?

'No.'

Was I disappointed?

'No.'

After all, I was where I wanted to be. I had danced the dance and
declared my intentions, and it was now up to Luscious. Her turn to
lead me in the dance, for good or for ill. I could wait.

I would wait.






(Continued in Chapter 45)


  
CE44