” And for the first time Dave saw a ruthless, dangerous look cross his face.He took Trish by the arm, strode her over to her beach bag, it was still in the same place he had dropped it the night before. Picking it up, he stepped out of the room and guided her onto the walkway and off towards the pool.Fuck! Dave had to see this, he slipped his arms into a Hawaiian shirt and pulled on some shorts. He didn’t have time to pull on underpants, just turned to follow them. Then turning back, he grabbed his camera and raced out the door. Only ten months earlier, he would have bet the Crown Jewels on the fact that Trish stepping outside topless, even if there was not a single person within a mile, would never happen. But there were people around, dozens of them in fact.He saw Jacques, still firmly holding her arm, guiding her off the bridge and on towards the pool bar. She was looking straight ahead, ignoring the stares of the guests at the bar. There were three men of similar. Finally regaining a little of my composure I answered, "Southern men don't talk about things like that... we're gentlemen. I know that someone from Chicago may not have encountered one before..." Yeah right Charlie... like all those gentlemen we saw in the infield at Talladega," Rose countered in a tough Chicago accent, evoking the memory of the weekend just a month ago when she, mom and I had spent an afternoon watching a car race among a couple of hundred thousand drunken race car fans. It had been Rosie's suggestion to go of course, her desire to imbue herself in 'Southern Culture' as she mockingly described it so that her paintings would reflect the 'redneck milieu' she now found herself in."They were drunk... NASCAR fans... that's different," I protested."Remember those six gentlemen who unzipped themselves in front of your mom and poor innocent cousin and fifty other women and started peeing..." OK. OK... I'll do it," I capitulated, knowing there was no point in trying to win.
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