We ran over, but just before we got there, the girls had gotten up and were leaving the beach. They had annoyed looks on their faces and were wearing large sunglasses and floppy hats.
“Come on, we’ll follow them!” We scooped up our beach towels and our bags with our transistor radios and our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and ran -- as inconspicuously as possible -- after the girls who were now wrapped in their beach towels so that all we could see were their flip flopped feet slipping into the crowd. They separated. We followed one down the side street and almost lost her, but then there they were, all three, sitting on the lounge chairs by the motel tucked into a back street.
They didn’t look the way they did on Ed Sullivan now. All the glitz was gone. They sat there on the chairs looking, well, bored. They would have rather been at the beach, I felt sure, relaxing and maybe playing in the waves a bit. Instead they were stuck in the shade on a motel porch.
We sat on a ledge across the street, over a little way but where we could get a good look. Shall we go over and talk to them? No, it was decided. They’d only run away again. We watched and watched, but there was nothing to see, just three women who didn’t look very happy about sitting there.
Then along came a boyfriend who had been with them on the beach.