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Click here"We both are," Rylie called out.
"So much for staying ultra focused," Ross said. "Now you tell us." The room exploded in laughter.
Marc couldn't resist. "Is that a big NO or an invite for us to do the honors?" More laughter.
Rylie took a turn. "Bedroom farce at its finest. Or worst, I'm not sure which."
"Maybe it's just me," Ross said, "but me thinks the atmosphere has suddenly undergone a radical change in mood. Can we get serious here?"
"You want serious? Guido and Carmine, where are you?" LeAnn threw out that gem.
The lines kept coming, and so did the howling, and even after things subsided, they couldn't get back to "serious" business. Marc would start to laugh, then Ross, then the girls. It was useless. They cuddled awhile, sipping champagne and trading light kisses. After dressing, the girls revealed something else—they were leaving tomorrow. They exchanged contact information on hotel stationary, followed by tight hugs and long goodbye kisses in the parking garage. Tears flowed freely.
They exchanged letters over the semester. In December, during winter break, Rylie visited Ross in Baltimore. In mid-January, just before school started, Marc visited LeAnne in Harrison. A good time was had by all. Only it didn't last. Summer romances rarely stretch into the following summer.
Decades later, Ross, like his still close friend Marc, was married. They liked to discuss old times, that time in Atlantic City especially. Did Rylie ever get to write that book? Sometimes Ross wondered. Then one day he got a package in the mail. The return address listed a New York town he didn't recognize, sent by a Rylie Feigelson-Conboy. He opened the package—a book, as he suspected, with her byline and the title: "It All Started at the Dennis." The first line grabbed him: "What would any self-respecting college girl do if a strange guy on the boardwalk in Atlantic City offered to sing her favorite song for a dime?"
He read the hand-written note tucked inside the hardback cover:
Hi Ross. I hope this finds you happy and well and living life to the fullest. I got your address through a Baltimore (I mean Beemo) directory—hope you don't mind. I'm practicing law while also writing on the side. This is my first published novel. Enjoy!
Recently I saw the movie Goodfellas, and when the 'funny how' scene came on, I almost fell out of my chair. Either you're clairvoyant or you pitched Joe Pesci's lines to Martin Scorsese to use in the script. Unreal!
Please say hi to Marc. By the way, LeAnne and I are no longer virgins."
Remembering you fondly,
Rylie
Minutes later, he dialed up his friend. "Milmo, you won't fucking believe this!"
A nice interlude which avoided the obligatory sex scene and was yet very satisfyingly. 4 *
of cruising a boardwalk thinking of picking up girls, trying to screw up your courage to even talk to them. So innocent back then.
Thanks.
... the stationary on page 3 should be stationery.
So you were also there around 1970, the era in which my story takes place. I miss the "old" Atlantic City, the place where people went for the simple pleasures of sand, sun, beach and boardwalk. Too bad it took a nosedive, then looked to gambling to "save" it. The good thing about Ocean City, NJ is that it doesn't change. It's still the relatively wholesome family beach resort I've known for 50 years.