Amber

by Keith Keller

When Amber connected with the ball she knew by sound and feel that it would hit the ground in Mrs. Perkins yard. She could run faster than most of the boys in the neighborhood, and if she could run fast enough, she would have a home run. As she rounded 1st base she saw Bobby Conklin jump the Perkins' fence in one smooth bound. She hoped the ball had landed in Mrs. Perkins rose garden. Amber cleared 3rd base and with the screams of her teammates in her ears ran for home. The catcher moved away from the plate to catch a wide throw. Half way to home a large hand reached out and caught her arm, spinning her around and on to her back, almost knocking the wind out of her. Her father, teeth gritted, pulled her to her feet. "Next time wear a damn bra," he mumbled as he half dragged her toward her house.

Amber was twelve years old. She never played baseball again.

*****

Ten years had passed since that day on the dusty neighborhood baseball diamond. Amber now lived in downtown Paterson, New Jersey, in one of the large second-story spaces occupied by a small group of artists, musicians, writers and poets looking for a cheap place to live. She had worked as a teller in a bank on Paterson's main street where most of the artists had their studios. One day an artist named Walter came into the bank to open an account. A few weeks later they were living together in Walter's studio above a drugstore.

*****

It was a hot summer day and Amber, her boyfriend Walter, and their friend Edgar, decided to go to one of the Italian social clubs on Cianci Street for a glass of lemon ice with cold espresso poured over it, a whole glass full. It was refreshing on a hot August day but made you fidgety. They decided on Vince's place, a small social club that sponsored a city soccer team. Made up of Italian and Irish factory workers, the team was famous for internal fist fights to the consternation of the opposing teams. The fights generally ended when Vince would lose his temper, run out on to the field, and start punching the members of his own team as they were punching each other. It was quite a sight.

Walter had stopped to look at an empty storefront next to Vince's place. It had a sign in the window that read "for rent". He was always checking out any new location he came across on the chance that he might find a still cheaper or larger space. Amber and Walter had already moved twice and now lived in a three thousand square foot two story location above a woman's clothing store. They paid $150 per month in rent.

"Look at this place," said Walter, "three sky lights. It would make a great school."

"Who would come?" asked Amber.

"Good point," responded Walter, "Still, it really would make a great school."

"You guys thinking of renting this place?" asked Vince who had appeared at Walter's side.

"Maybe," answered Walter.

"What for?" asked Vince.

"An art school," answered Edgar, a little sarcasm in his voice.

Vince stared at the sidewalk, frowning, obviously giving the idea of an art school in Paterson, New Jersey, serious consideration.

"Great idea," he said as he lifted his head and stared first at Edgar and then at Walter and Amber, "I'll be your partner."

The three remained silent, somewhat taken aback by Vince's newfound interest in the arts.

"Look," Vince said, "nudity in New Jersey is illegal. Angelo up the street at Roma just got a warning from Vice because one of his dancers flashed a nipple. One nipple for Christ's sake. But an art school, nude models, that's different right? We'll make this place real nice, build a stage, put a couch on it. Each guy gets a legal pad and a pencil. Twenty bucks an hour. We'll fill the place. What do you say?"

"Well, actually, we were thinking of opening a real art school," responded Walter.

Vince stared at the three of them for a moment, frowning again, and then said, "What for?"

*****

Amber sat sipping her espresso and lemon ice and watching Tony doing an imitation of the way girls run, kicking his heels up behind him and flapping his arms. She liked the way his tight little butt looked as he flitted around the room. Even his best friend Dragon commented as he watched Tony pump quarters into the juke box at Roma one slow night that if he was in jail he would like to have Tony as his cell mate. "Look at that ass," said Dragon, "tell me you wouldn't do him if there was no other option."

"Give me your sneakers," Amber said, kicking off her heels and pointing at Edgar's feet. That day on the baseball field with her father had had the opposite effect than that which most people might expect. It is true that Amber spent the rest of the summer avoiding her teammates and trying on baggy clothes meant to hide her breasts, but by summer's end her embarrassment had turned to anger and frustration; frustration at the futility of trying to disguise her body as if she had something to be ashamed of. Anger toward her father grew as she daily thought of the humiliation he had caused her. She decided no one would ever tell her what to wear again. Every chance Amber had she wore the most revealing and provocative clothing she could, sometimes taking a change of clothes with her to parties or on dates and stoically bearing her father's anger when caught. She proved stronger than him as little by little he stopped objecting to her clothes, in the end pretending not to notice.

"Come on, give me your sneakers, you can wear my shoes," Amber said, this time a little louder.

"I don't think they will fit," Edgar said, eyeing the lime green spiked heels. They went just right with the leopard print vest and the faded stretch jeans Amber wore. She put the sneakers on then took them off.

"Give me your socks, both of you. These are too big." Amber complained.

"This is getting interesting," said Walter, pulling his shoes and socks off."

 Amber laced up the borrowed sneakers, took a deep breath, and walked over to where Tony was sipping an espresso.

"Hi Tony," Amber said.

"Hi Amber, what's up?" Tony asked, having noticed the odd shoe exchange.

Amber and her friends had become regulars not only in the social clubs but also the bars where one could get a cold beer and watch a woman gyrate around on a stage behind the bar. There were no cafes, galleries, or movies, so by default the little art colony had become a part of the neighborhood. At first, because there were no women in the clubs, it was assumed they were not allowed. One day Amber and Edgar's new girlfriend Julia decided to stop in one of the clubs, just to see what would happen. Several white haired men were playing cards at a large round table. As the women entered the men glanced up a moment and then went back to their cards. The two women ordered cappuccinos. Everyone was very polite. One of the gamblers said fuck as he lost a hand and someone told him to watch his mouth. Apart from that, everything was as usual. Amber and Julia discovered that the reason no woman had ever gone into a social club was because no woman had ever wanted to.

So Tony knew Amber, and knew she was up to no good. Amber knew it too, and was proud of the no good she was up too. She smiled at Tony.

"Well," she said, "I was just wondering if maybe you would like to," she paused, "race?".

 If a car remained parked for three days in front of a social club without moving everyone who played the numbers bet the numbers on the license plate. If a Boeing 747 went down everyone played 747. One night Tony was spotted drunk in the parking lot lighting M80´s and tossing them in the air. Immediately the patrons of the clubs and bars started giving odds on whether he would blow his fingers or his head off first.

But a race, and a race between a woman and a man, and that woman being Amber, well, you can imagine.

Speculations about Amber's legs and Tony's drinking habits were discussed.

"He's got no wind," offered one.

"She's younger," said another.

"She's a broad," declared a third, as if this made it obvious who would win.

Angelo had come down the street from Roma and was made the starter by Vince who was holding the bets. All the late afternoon customers from the bars and clubs were lined up along Cianci street, including several dancers who had begun chanting "Amber, Amber, Amber!" One of the dancers took aside Amber, who had been pacing back and forth while Tony hopped around and waggled his head back and forth.

"I used to run track," the dancer said. "He's gonna blow his wad straight off. You hang back, even if you think you're faster. We will be waiting for you at the finish line. Keep your eye on me, the one in red spangles. I'll know when it's time to go full out, and so will you. And remember, you always have more than you think in there," and she tapped Amber on the chest with the knuckles of her fist. Walter and Edgar were less eloquent, they just said, "Good luck."

 Finally all the bets had been taken and a white electric extension cord served as a finish line. They were to run the length of Cianci Street, about seventy-five yards. Angelo was standing staring at the 38 cal. pistol he had just fished out of his pocket.

"Just yell ready, set, go!" Vince advised.

 Tony and Amber assumed their best imitation of a runner's starting position. Angelo yelled ready, set, go - and they were off. Amber had no trouble staying with Tony. She had the feeling he was running full out but was not sure she could run much faster. Then red spangles threw her fist into the air, the same fist that had tapped Amber on the chest. She kept doing it, punching the air, faster and faster, and Amber ran faster and faster in rhythm with the punching fist. Five yards from the finish line Tony dropped to his knees.

 After the race everyone went to Roma and got drunk. Angelo split his winnings with Amber and she in turn tipped red spangles and the other dancers lavishly. Walter and Edgar got their socks back and Amber felt like she had finally scored that homerun.

Amber eventually made peace with her father after his traumatic accident; a crate fell on his foot at work and cut his big toe clean off. After that he joined his community's Volunteer Ambulance Service, started sleeping with a pyramid under his bed and became a liberal.

NEXT: Amber fails Bunny Mothers' pussy inspection, becomes a bar dancer, and gets shot by five Chinese gangsters.