Something was uneasy between them as they leaned against the railing while the ferry pulled out of the slip. Just first-date jitters, Carrie told herself. All through high school she'd dated no one but Josh. Since coming to Sunset Island, she'd gone out a few times with Howie Lawrence, but had never viewed him as more than a friend. This was her first real date since breaking up with Josh.

"So, are you excited about making the demo tape?" she asked, remembering Sam's advice to always talk about the guy.

"Things are going so great for us, between Graham letting us open and now putting together a real pro tape," he said. He went on to tell her about the recording session he'd had that afternoon at the studio. "This guy's equipment is not to be believed," he said. The conversation was normal enough, but Carrie noticed that Billy wasn't really looking at her as he spoke. That riveting eye contact was suddenly missing. That was what felt so wrong, she realized.

After a half-hour's ride, the ferry pulled in at Portland. Billy hailed a cab and they drove to the studio. "How did the concert pictures come out?" he asked.

"Great," said Carrie. "I got one really good picture of Graham talking to his band. I was going to send it into Rolling Stone to try to sell it, but Graham spotted it and he's thinking of using it on his next alb.u.m cover. Can you believe that?" This had happened just the evening before and Carrie was still elated by the news. She'd decided not to tell anyone, not even Sam or Emma, in case nothing came of it. Now she found herself telling Billy about it.

"That is great," said Billy.

Talking too much about me, Carrie scolded herself. Billy seemed interested, but Sam had told her to talk about him. Make him feel superior, boost his ego. And Sam was a regular man-magnet.

"Of course, the picture wasn't really that great. I'm sure Graham won't use it,"

she added rapidly. What would Sam say now? Talk about him. "I'm sure the pictures you take will be much better. I think men have a more natural apt.i.tude for photography." Carrie felt kind of traitorous, since in her heart of hearts she believed no such thing. Still, didn't this sort of thing always work for Sam?

"You do?" he asked skeptically, holding the studio door open for her.

"Oh, absolutely," she lied.

As soon as they stepped inside, the pulsing sound of blasting rock music nearly deafened them. "I told you the guy has amazing equipment," Billy shouted at her.

Carrie just smiled and nodded. They went down a red-carpeted hall and opened a door. Inside, the room was packed with people. "Billy, there you are!" A short, balding man dressed in an expensive-looking silk knit V-neck sweater and linen pants made his way through the crowd.

"Hi, Sid," Billy greeted him. "Carrie, this is Sid. He owns the place." "Nice to meet you," shouted Sid. "Your boy-Mend is going places. I've been in this biz a long time and I can spot star material a mile away. I spotted Graham way back when." "Really?" said Carrie. "Graham is really a great guy." "You know them?"

Sid asked, surprised.

Dumb! Carrie thought suddenly. She didn't want Sid telling Graham he'd met her babysitter-who was supposed to be home babysitting. Too late.

"Carrie works for Graham," Billy was already telling Sid.

"Oh?" Sid said politely. "Well, make yourselves at home here. Drinks are in that corner," he said, pointing, "and the buffet is against that wall." "Excuse me,"

Carrie said tentatively. "I'm going to get something to drink. My-my throat is kind of dry." "Go ahead," Billy told her. "I just want to talk to Sid about something a minute." Carrie thought of asking whether Billy wanted something, but she was afraid to disturb him when he was involved with band business. She didn't want to seem pushy or stupid. She hesitated a moment, but Billy was already lost in conversation with Sid. He didn't even glance her way as she slunk off.

Weaving through the crowd, Carrie realized she was glad to get away from Billy for the moment. Something wasn't clicking between them and she had to figure out why.

All around her people talked, laughed, and danced. Most of the women were Kristy Powell types: confident, slim, gorgeous, and s.e.xily dressed. Maybe Billy was nervous about being seen with her as his date. He might be afraid that she would seem like a little kid in the midst of all these sophisticated people. He was trying to-advance his career here; he didn't need her acting like his junior-prom date.

"What'll it be?" asked a good-looking bartender from behind the table.

"A vodka," she ordered boldly.

"Straight?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Carrie had no idea what he was talking about. "Sure," she replied.

The waiter gave her a dubious look, "Maybe you'd prefer it on the rocks or mixed." • Her parents didn't drink. She'd had beers at parties, but not hard drinks. Carrie didn't have a clue as to what he meant. "On the rocks," she said, taking a guess.

The bartender poured some vodka into a short gla.s.s fall of ice. Carrie gulped some down. Instantly her throat felt like it was on fire. The sensation traveled up, making her nose tingle and her eyes water. "Why don't you try it with some cranberry juice?" the bartender suggested, laughter in his eyes.

He filled her gla.s.s with the juice. "That's much better," Carrie said thankfully. She could hardly taste the vodka at all as she gulped it down fast.

"I'll have another." Carrie quickly downed the second drink. She felt herself relax under the influence of the alcohol. Now she could deal with this situation.

Her eyes searched the room for Billy. She spotted him talking to Kristy Powell.

As usual, Kristy was all over him.

"I'll take care of this," she muttered. Bolstered by the two drinks, she walked directly over to Billy. "Want to dance?" she asked him, casting a haughty glance at Kristy.

"Sure," said Billy. "See you later, Kristy." Kristy shot Carrie a deadly look and immediately grabbed herself a dance partner. She was right behind them as Carrie and Billy headed for the crowded dance area. Kristy looked more gorgeous than ever in a short, form-fitting silver dress. Carrie was thankful she'd listened to Sam and dressed s.e.xily. As the old Carrie, she'd have been no compet.i.tion for Kristy. Now at least she stood a chance.

Billy was a great dancer, moving easily to the beat. Usually Carrie liked to dance, but she'd never done it in three-inch heels. Her ankles wobbled as she fought to keep her balance.

From the corner of her eye, Carrie noticed Kristy. She's dancing with that Flash person, she noticed, seeing Kristy's partner. His dark hair was slicked back in a ponytail and he was expensively overdressed in a silk designer suit. He was so wrapped up in his own performance as he spun and rocked his hips to the music that he barely noticed Kristy.

That was apparently fine with Kristy, because she didn't take her eyes off Billy as she danced seductively nearby. She rolled her hips and threw her head and shoulders back as though she were in the throes of ecstacy.

Carrie saw Billy check her out with a quick, darting glance.

You want to see s.e.xy dancing? thought Carrie. I can show you some s.e.xy dancing.

After all, she considered, she hadn't watched Dirty Dancing fifteen times for nothing.

Bending down, she slipped off Claudia's heels and slid them along the floor to the side. As if on cue, the record changed to a hard-driving rock number. Carrie gave it all she had, tossing her long chestnut ponytail, shimmying her hips, and rolling her shoulders with complete abandon.

Billy followed her lead. He grabbed her around the waist and the two of them b.u.mped, hip to hip, to the blaring beat of the music. Carrie could tell by the expression on Billy's face that he was enjoying himself. Together they were terrific dance partners.

Kristy grabbed Flash's hand and tried to compete. But it didn't work. In fact, neither she nor Flash seemed to know how to dance together. They were strictly solo acts.

Carrie had always been athletic, but even she didn't know where her energy was coming from. Billy went down into a low crouch and she went down with him, shaking her upper torso to the beat. She thought of car commercials she'd seen where the announcer used the expression "turbo-charged." That was how she felt.

Turbocharged.

"Whoa, mama!" Billy said with a laugh when the song finally ended. "I didn't know you could dance like that!" "There's a lot you don't know about me," she said, tossing back her ponytail.

"I guess so," he agreed.

"I'm very hot," she added suggestively. "I need a drink." Billy followed her to the bar. "Vodka and cranberry juice, please," she ordered. Billy ordered a beer.

Carrie threw hers down and ordered another.

"I had a whole different impression of you," Billy told her.

"What did you think, that I was Miss Priss?" "No," he laughed. "Not Miss Priss.

I just thought you were a more ... I don't know . . . serious person." "I am serious," she said, sidling up next to him. "I'm serious about having a good time." Another hard rock song came on and Carrie dragged Billy onto the dance floor. They danced wildly again, but this time Kristy was nowhere in sight.

"There's Frank," said Billy when the music ended. "He's our lead guitarist. Want to go say h.e.l.lo?" "I'll meet you," Carrie told him. "I'm going to get another drink. Want a beer?" "No, thanks," he said. "Maybe you should slow down." "I never slow down," she flirted.

"You're the boss," replied Billy casually. But he looked worried.

Carrie got another drink and joined Billy as he stood talking to Pres and Frank.

Frank was short and stocky with long, curly black hair. Carrie was electrified to be standing among these three soon-to-be rock stars. Everything they said seemed remarkably witty. She found herself laughing hysterically at almost every comment they made.

The rest of the party went by in a sort of blur. Somehow she lost track of Billy for a while. But she wasn't lonely. One after another, guys asked her to dance.

Some of them seemed to want to hang around and talk, but she wasn't interested.

The important thing was that Billy could see how popular she was.

What seemed like only an hour suddenly turned out to have been several hours.

"Omi-gosh!" she cried as she looked up at the clock on the wall. It was twenty minutes after one.

At that moment, she realized that her head was spinning. She was off balance.

But through the haze, she remembered one thing clearly.

The last ferry back to Sunset Island was at one-thirty.

Five Claudia's shoes! Carrie thought, frantically looking around. The shoes had disappeared. Carrie put her hand on her head. She felt dizzier than ever.

"What's the matter?" Billy asked, coming up behind her.

"Claud-I mean, my shoes. I can't find them." Billy scanned the area. "They've got to be here somewhere. They'll turn up." "Maybe, but I have to go," she said, fighting back the floaty, dizzy feeling. "The last ferry leaves in ten minutes."

"That's no problem. They start running again at four-thirty. There's a little all-night diner not far from here. A bunch of us are going to go have some breakfast and then catch the four-thirty. Is that okay with you?" Claudia and Graham were always home by three-thirty at the latest. There was no way she could take the four-thirty ferry. She had to get home. "Sorry, Billy," she said, making her way to the door. "I have to work tomorrow. I've got to be on that ferry. You can stay. I have to go." As she spoke, Carrie realized she was having trouble getting the words out. Her tongue felt thick. And the room had started to spin. Or at least that's how it felt to her. She reached out to steady herself and toppled over to the side, crashing into Sid. "Jeez!" Sid cried as the gla.s.s of champagne he held splashed down the front of his sweater.

"Oh, no!" Carrie gasped. "I am so sorry." Drunkenly, she began trying to wipe the champagne from his sweater with her hands.

"That's all right, dear," said Sid. "Billy, I think you'd better take your girlfriend home. She seems to have gone over her limit." "I have not," she protested sloppily. "I have no limit." "Come on," Billy said firmly, taking her arm and steering her toward the door. "What about your shoes?" he asked when they reached the door.

"I don't know," she said. "I can't wait to find them. I have to go. You stay here. I'll be fine." Carrie took three steps down the hall and b.u.mped into the wall.

"Come on, let's get you on that ferry," said Billy, wrapping his muscular arm around her. When they walked out the door, the night air roused Carrie a bit.

"The car-service place is just up the block," he said. He looked at her and sighed. "Get on my back. I'm going to have to carry you." Carrie shot him a goofy grin. "Piggyback.

What fun." She climbed up on his back, giggling. When she was on his back, he jogged toward the car-service office.

"You are so strong," she slurred as he set her down against the front of the building.

"I know, I'm a regular Arnold Schwarzenegger," he quipped. "Don't go anywhere.

I'm going to get us a cab." In a few minutes they were in the back seat of an old blue cab, driving toward the dock. As they neared it the ferry horn sounded.

"Uh-oh," said Carrie as she tried desperately to keep her head up. "The ferry is going bye-bye. I'm in a lot of trouble now." "Can you go any faster?" Billy asked the driver.

"I'll try," he replied, stepping on the gas.

When they pulled up to the ferry, Billy threw three dollars into the front seat and swung the door open. A ferry worker wearing a fluorescent vest was at that moment pulling shut the iron bar that closed off the ferry. "Hold up!" Billy cried, waving his arms as he ran toward the man.

Carrie got out of the cab. "Ouch!" She'd stepped on a sharp pebble. Trying to catch up with Billy, she found herself weaving sideways instead.

The next thing she knew, Billy was beside her again. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the ferry. Looking annoyed, the ferry hand held open the bar and let them pa.s.s. "You both going, or just the ... uh ... lady?" he asked.

"Just her," said Billy, setting Carrie onto her feet. She staggered back two steps, nearly losing her baIance. "Oh, shoot!" Billy muttered, "I guess I'd better go, too." He handed the man fare for two and helped Carrie onto the ferry.

Leaning heavily on Billy, Carrie made her way up to the exposed mid-deck of the ferry. With a last blast of its horn, the ferry lurched forward.

Carrie's stomach lurched forward along with it.

"Oh, no!" she cried, stumbling to her feet. Drunk as she was, she was aware enough to know that what was coming next would mean total humiliation. She grabbed the railing and pulled herself along as quickly as she could manage. At the front of the boat she leaned over and threw up into the black, churning ocean.

Almost immediately her head felt somewhat clearer. "Feeding the fish?" Billy teased drily as he joined her. She nodded, feeling woozy once again. He took her arm and sat down with her on a wooden bench.

"You know what, Billy?" she said.

"What?" "I feel terrible." "I'm not surprised. I bet you'll feel worse tomorrow." "Really?" sighed Carrie, sliding down in her seat. "That's pretty cool." She let her head drift down onto his leg and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

When she awoke she was lying in the back seat of a car. A strong hand was roughly shaking her shoulder. Groggily, she looked up. A handsome face was looking down at her. But it wasn't Billy. For a moment she couldn't figure out what was going on. Then the fog in her brain cleared just a bit.

"Kurt!" she cried.

"Drink this," he said, handing her a cup of hot coffee.

Carrie took the cup from him. "What the . . . how did I get here?" she asked, dragging herself into a sitting position. "What's going on?" "Your date, that rock-and-roll guy-what's his name?" "Billy." "Right, Billy. He called you a cab when you got off the ferry and I got the call. You were really out of it. I told him I'd make sure you got home okay because I got the impression he wanted to take the ferry back to Portland." "Thanks," she said, sipping the coffee. As she drank Carrie noticed they were pulled over on the side of Thorn Hill Road. "Why did you stop here?" "I wanted to give you this coffee before we got home to the Templetons'. But that's not really the reason I stopped. I think you have a little problem." "What?" asked Carrie.

"When I pulled up to the house, I saw the upstairs lights on. And I could see the figure of a man standing in the window. It looked like Graham." "Oh, G.o.d!"

gasped Carrie.

"Emma told me where you were tonight. I didn't want to make matters worse by ringing the doorbell and delivering your snoring corpse to them. So I drove back down here and I figured I'd better wake you." "I was snoring?" moaned Carrie, shaking her head.

"Like a buzz saw." "What am I going to do, Kurt? I'm going to be fired. I'm going to get sent home." Suddenly she sat up straight. "What if something happened to Ian or Chloe?" "Are you ready to go to the house?" Kurt asked.

"I have to find out what happened. Besides, what choice do I have?" Kurt drove her to the front door. "Here," he "said as he handed her a mint.

"Oh, no! On top of everything, I have bad breath?" "Booze breath," he said. "Try not to stand too close to anybody." He turned out of the driveway and was gone.

With shaking hands, Carrie put her key in the front door and let herself in. The house was dark except for the upstairs lights. "Good night, Ian," she heard Claudia say.

At the top of the stairs she saw Claudia in a long flowered nightgown. Without her heels and makeup, she looked very young and vulnerable.