Eddie, My Love Read online

  June's lapse in concentration didn't seem to register with him, though that smile clung to his lips, so slight and almost smug. "Lots of private dicks have guns, June," he pointed out. "Why choose me?"

  "Um…your reputation. You aren't a pussy." The word left her mouth without pause, but June wanted to kick herself as soon as her lips had closed. Ladies in 1950 didn't use that term. It was colloquial in her time, but not in this one. "A pussy cat, that is."

  He laughed and June felt it resonate through her ears and in a shiver down her spine. "Of course," he said, obviously aware of her gaffe. "I don't take any crap from anyone, that's a fact."

  "Exactly. I need someone strong enough to make an impression."

  Still smiling, he eyed her again. "Okay. I'm fifty dollars a day, plus expenses."

  Was that a lot? Should she try to haggle? "Premier will pay forty per day, including expenses."

  "No dice, toots. It's fifty plus expenses or we're quits."

  So much for haggling. "Very well."

  "Fran will send you a bill when we're done."

  "Fran is your secretary?"

  He nodded, casually picking up the pencil again. "Yep. And my bookkeeper and receptionist. She's a gal Friday, you might say."

  "Oh. I thought maybe she was your wife." June watched his expression lighten.

  "Ha! She'd love to hear you say that. No, Fran's not my wife. I don't have a wife. Is that a problem?"

  He seemed a little defensive with that remark. June thought it was something notable for consideration in the future. "No, no problem."

  "You married, June? I don't want no thug of an old man to try to pop me one for escorting his woman around town." He grinned again. "Wouldn't want to have to rearrange his face."

  June's toes curled. It was amazing how appealing this brutish man could be. He was nothing like twenty-second century men. Certainly not like any she'd dated. Those men were after her money and that was about all. Being an heiress was something envied by many people, but for June, it was also a source of grief. "No rearranging necessary, Mr. Strong."

  "Eddie."

  "Eddie.” She’d specifically asked Romantek to make her single in her dream, just as she was in her real time. “I'm not married."

  He nodded and stood. "Anything else?"

  That was June's cue to stand as well. She patted her skirt in place, and Eddie's eyes traveled from her hips down to her peep-toed pumps and back up again. This time, his grin was wolfish.

  "Since we're two unmarried people, how about we grab a drink somewhere?"

  Should she flirt? Well, why not? He was a construct and this was her dream. She could be bold, if she wanted to, within the bounds of the period. As a rule, June didn't drink alcohol, but she wondered if Romantek would put her in position to get drunk. Could you get drunk in a dream? "Sure, Eddie. A drink would be fine."

  Putting his fedora back on his head, he nodded toward the door. "After you."

  Fran was not at her desk when they left the office, and the cigarette in the ashtray had burned down to a butt and was squashed up into a little white mound. Preceding Eddie down the hall, June had the distinct feeling that he was watching her behind. A bit of devil came over her and she added an extra bit of sway to her walk.

  "Keep it up, doll, and we'll put that caboose to use."

  She stopped the sway, a little miffed that he was so unsubtle as to actually say something rather than just notice quietly, but it appeared that Eddie Strong wasn't the subtle type. Far from it.

  Once they'd left his building, he guided her down the street with a hand on her lower back. They were in downtown Los Angeles, a gritty place with dirty sidewalks but busy with people leaving work. Eddie led her to a big car and opened the door for her. It was a dark blue auto, with a gray cloth seat that spanned the entire front. There was a steering wheel and a stick shift on the wheel post.

  Eddie patted her bottom as she bent to get into the vehicle. June shot him a dirty look but didn't otherwise protest. Although she didn't want to admit it to Eddie, or even to herself, she rather liked his physical attention. At first it had rankled because it was a little patronizing, but it was growing on her.

  June sat as a passenger, clutching her purse tightly, nearly white knuckled, while Eddie drove them out of the downtown corridor and onto a highway. There were hundreds of cars, all driven by a lone person. Some had passengers; others were only carrying one occupant. The entire experience terrified June. Self-drive cars were safe. These contraptions, human-operated, were dangerous and people were killed or seriously injured in them.

  Of course, she rationalized, she was in a dream. Nothing could harm her in real life while she was here. That made her relax a bit, but overall, the experience was harrowing. She was thrilled when they veered off the highway and onto a street, coming to a stop in front of a cream stucco building with a neon sign above. The sign said, "The Hollywood Brown Derby." Was he taking her to drinks at a clothing company? Was that how one socialized in 1950? That wasn't how she remembered the entertainment vids.

  "Best Manhattans in L.A.," Eddie told her.

  Whatever that was. Manhattan was an island south of Toronto, as far as she was concerned, and they certainly hadn't traveled across the whole continent. Wisely keeping her mouth shut, June waited for Eddie to open the auto door for her—the mechanism was so old-fashioned—and she gracefully slid out of the seat. He guided her down a long, canopied portico, through the wide doors of the building and into a darkened interior.

  The place smelled of tobacco, and there were wooden tables throughout, in neat rows. The walls were lined with caricatures of people—famous people, she guessed, though none that she recognized from vids. Maybe somewhere along the walls was a picture of Cary Grant, Humphrey Bogart, or Katharine Hepburn.

  It was packed. Waiters in dark pants and crisp white shirts bustled about, serving drinks and food. No clothing for sale here. Music played gently over loud speakers. The singer was singing about "buttons and bows."

  At the back of the room was a long bar. June knew that bars were places where you got drinks; she wasn't such a teetotaler that she hadn't ever been to a bar before. Synthehol was common enough.

  A man in a tuxedo approached them as they paused a few feet into the big room. He looked at Eddie and barely spared a glance for June. "Table for two, sir?"

  "Yeah, Harry."

  "Very good, Mr. Strong. I think your usual table is open. If you'll follow me?"

  The place was noisy, though no one raised their voice. Most ate, drank, talked and laughed in a civilized, refined manner. About half of them seemed to smoke, more men than women. June followed Harry down the aisle toward a table not far from the bar. The banquette was leather-covered, the table a sturdy brown wood. Rare Australian wood was the only wood she'd ever known first-person, but this had a nicer grain and shined with a thick coating of shellac. Ever since the environmental shut down of tree harvesting in North America in the twenty-first century, the only wood used for furniture was imported. The best was from Australia. This table, however, was probably the original North American stuff. June touched it reverently.

  She slid into the booth and put her purse aside as she watched Eddie slip in opposite her. He put his hat on the seat next to him. For a moment, June wondered if she was supposed to take her hat off, too, but she noticed that the other ladies in the room still wore theirs, so she didn't fuss with it. She had no idea what it looked like—they hadn't passed a mirror—but it felt small and light. Reaching up, she patted it nonchalantly, as though making sure it remained in place. It was some sort of stiffened fabric, perhaps felt, with a slightly dome-shaped crown and a small, decorative brim. There was a bit of something lacy around the edges, very likely a net veil. Her suit was dark blue; perhaps the hat was, too. It would have to remain a mystery for the time-being. But those gloves had to go. She was tired of not being able to actually feel anything well. Besides, other ladies in the room had removed theirs in order to eat.
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br />   "You look as good as a portrait of Madison, June," Eddie told her, obviously aware of her self-conscious perusal of her hat.

  "Portrait of whom?"

  He chuckled. "On a $5,000 bill. Madison…you know, the former president?"

  "Oh. Thank you."

  The waiter approached. He was a non-descript fellow, balding, with a comb-over of gray hair. He gave Eddie a polite smile. "Good evening, Mr. Strong. Will you have the usual?"

  "Yeah. And one for the lady."

  "Very good, sir." Without so much as looking at June, the waiter went off to fill Eddie's order.

  June was miffed, but tried to tamp it down. She kept telling herself that her role was different in this place and time. Her methods of getting what she wanted would have to be more subtle and wiley. In this century, one paved the way with flirtation and smiles.

  They waited in silence. Eddie seemed perfectly happy to pop another PEZ and ruminate as he lounged back in the seat with his arms spread across it. His eyes never left her.

  June, on the other hand, was soaking it all in. Romantek had left no detail unaccounted for. All the people looked so very perfect for the setting. One gentleman, dining alone, caught her eye with a pleasant smile. He was maybe thirty, with thick, dark hair and shining blue eyes. His suit was impeccable, perfectly tailored, with white cuffs barely peeking out from the sleeves. Unlike Eddie, he was cinema-handsome. They were in Hollywood, if the restaurant's sign could be believed, and that was where actors worked and socialized, at least at that time. Maybe this was a famous actor. The man winked at her. Winked!

  She smiled back and tried a wink herself. He nodded a friendly hello. June did likewise. He lifted his glass, a tall one with ice, some clear liquid, and a wedge of lime floating in it. It was a silent toast. June hadn't received her cocktail yet, but she turned her smile up a notch.

  Then she realized that Eddie had stiffened across from her. After a moment, his shoulders softened, and his voice was nonchalant when he asked, "He puttin' the make on you?"

  "The make?" There was so much from this time that she didn’t know!

  "You got eyes for that character?"

  "I was…he was…we were just being friendly."

  Eddie was tense again, and he gave the other man a death stare. "I've got a mind to pin that guy to the wall."

  The big man was behaving very possessively. Well, maybe protectively. Protective wasn’t so bad, but she thought his threat of violence was more than the situation warranted. "Eddie!"

  The stranger accepted Eddie's dirty look with grace and a smile, but stood up and left.

  June pouted. "You chased him off."

  "What's he to you?"

  "Nothing. I was having fun." A very tall man strolled by and June's eyes were drawn to him. He was more handsome than anyone she'd seen before. His face was perfect, right down to a cleft in his chin, and, when he smiled at her open stare, there were dimples in his cheeks. This was like being at an amusement park, with all the pretend characters parading down the aisle, making her feel welcome, and, if she was honest with herself, making her feel very feminine. June made a mental comparison between Eddie and the tall man, and found that, perversely, Eddie was somewhat more appealing. That made her irritated; she ought to find Eddie and his super-masculinity and rough looks unattractive, but she didn’t. Instead there was something compelling and sexually charged about him. Resentment arrowed through her for a moment and she gave Eddie a wilting look.

  "Can't keep your eyes to yourself, eh, June?"

  "Why should you care?"

  "You're with me, doll. When a dame's with Eddie Strong, she's expected to be polite."

  "I'm not being impolite."

  "Drooling over every Tom, Dick or Harry?"

  June bristled. "I'm not drooling."

  A fellow at a nearby table, dining with two other gentlemen, overheard their argument, and turned toward them. "Is everything all right, Miss?"

  June was taken completely by surprise. The man was defending her. A perfect stranger cared that a lady might need rescuing from a cad. She gave him a warm smile. "You're very kind," she told him as she gazed at him appreciatively.

  The drinks arrived and the man turned back to his table, although his eyes wandered to June every few minutes.

  Eddie glowered. "I had no idea you were such a roundheels. Now you’re making bedroom eyes at that joker. Is that what comes of being a lady insurance investigator?"

  "I have no idea what you mean." June didn’t know what a “roundheels” was, but she could guess.

  The cocktail tasted strongly of alcohol and something sweet. There was a bright red fruit on top. It looked like a cherry in shape, but the color was unlike any cherry she'd seen before. Next to it floated a thin slice of orange.

  "I ought to take you to task for flirting so boldly, June."

  She snorted. It was unladylike to make that noise, to say the least, but she was mad. Her glances and smiles were harmless enough. Although, the more she thought about it, the more she realized that in this time, a glance and a smile might have more implications. Maybe Eddie had a right to be irritable. They'd hardly exchanged a friendly word since sitting down.

  June gulped at her drink and then coughed. It was very strong.

  "A gal could get herself in serious trouble the way you're going, June."

  This was a dream. What kind of trouble could she get into? "Don't threaten me."

  "Look at one more Joe the way you just did and I'll take you over my knee to teach you some manners."

  She shot him an icy look. "You wouldn't dare."

  He nodded and that hard grin was back. "I wouldn't, huh?"

  Maybe he would. But June was ticked off. If she wanted to smile at other men, even flirt with them, Eddie Strong was nothing to her. It might be slightly impolite, but he was a construct. He shouldn't ought to get mad at her, no matter what she did, or whom she did it with. Certainly, Romantek wouldn’t program him to spank. "No."

  "Finish your drink."

  "I'll finish it all right!" Without thinking, she tossed the cocktail in his face.

  He looked incredulous at first, but that expression soon turned very dark. June sat still, horrified that she'd done such a thing as she watched that red berry thing slide down his striped necktie and into his lap with a plop. He was liberally splashed with Manhattan and the evening was ruined. She might have just botched the whole deal.

  No. She tried to calm herself. This was a dream. It was supposed to work out.

  Eddie brought his white linen napkin to his face and mopped the dripping mess off his chin, rubbing one eye as though it got splashed. He never stopped glowering at her throughout. Finally, he tossed the crumpled napkin on the table and took June by the wrist. She grabbed her purse, but left those idiot gloves, and stood when he pulled her away from the table. Down the aisle they went, pausing only long enough to throw two dollars on the table. He dragged her down under the awning to where the valets waited. It took a minute to get the car from the attendant, but Eddie didn't release her wrist for even one second. Once the car came, he opened the back passenger door. "Get in."

  Chapter 2

  June was alarmed. Eddie was ticked off and being very forceful. "Where are we going? Why can't I sit in the front seat next to you?"

  He pushed her toward the backseat. "Just get in."

  Huffing, June got in. The backseat was roomy, and smelled slightly of vinyl and heat. Eddie got in behind the steering wheel, and soon they were out of the parking lot and traveling down a street called Vine. They drove a while, turning on Yucca Street and again on a smaller street, Vista Del Mar. Small industrial buildings showed through the car windows, but Eddie was slowing down. He turned into an alleyway and pulled the car over to the side.

  "What are we doing?"

  "The driving was so I could lose my mad and now I'm going to give you what for."

  "'What for?'"

  "Yeah." He got out of the car, and at first, June thought he
was coming back to let her out, but he opened the door and slid in beside her. "Over my lap."

  "Over your…what?"

  He drew her up against him and then pushed her down over his knees. Although June struggled against the ignominious position, Eddie was much stronger than she was and had his way easily.

  It was novel. She'd never been in this kind of situation before, never had a man force her to do anything. Most of the men in her experience had been fawning and obsequious, greedy to get their hands on her inheritance or one of her companies, interminably malleable and, ultimately, boring and disappointing. Having a man take charge so forcefully was new and although she was afraid—Eddie was a formidable man—she was also excited. Nonetheless, she kicked and squirmed, protesting verbally though she could hardly think of what to say under the circumstances.

  "Let me go!"

  He didn't respond except to push her skirt up to her hips.

  June felt her face heat. "Hey! Stop that!"

  "Not on your life, kid. You deserve this and more." He said no more with his mouth, but his hand spoke a thousand words. It came crashing down on June's pantied behind like a hundred bee stings.

  "Ouch!"

  "'Ouch' all you like, but I'm gonna make it clear that I'm not a man to let a dame walk all over him." That hand smacked down on June's butt several more times. It was tingly, and not in a good way. What the hell was Romantek up to, causing her pain? How could this humiliating experience possibly add to the romance of her dream? The point was to get away from the grind at work, away from the stress and pressure, away from the men she had so little respect for. Some of that was happening, but it sure wasn’t the way she’d imagined. June thought she ought to ask for her money back and slap them with a lawsuit!

  But, although it hurt—hurt badly—the continued spanks seemed to rev up her excitement, adding a dimension of danger to the situation. She didn't know Eddie well enough to predict him. Although he was likely a computer-driven avatar, he was quirky and hard to understand. She was with him for a reason, and until she found out exactly why they were together, she had to get along with him.