Out of Time 01 - Out of Time

sickly yellow with sweat. “What you doin’ here?”
    Simon put his hand over Elizabeth’s and pulled her slightly behind him. He turned to glare at the man. “We were simply—”
    “Do it someplace else,” the man growled with a thick Brooklyn accent, as he threw his bucket of empty bottles into a nearby trash bin. “Go on, get out of here!”
    Simon ignored the man and started to turn back to Elizabeth.
    “You want I should call the cops?” the man said with a sneer, as he looked Elizabeth up and down. She was wearing a tight, blue T-shirt and jeans, but his eyes traveled her figure as if she were naked. Her clothes were far too form-fitting for the period to be anything other than something a tramp would wear. “Take your quiff and get a room.”
    Simon’s body tensed. He slowly pulled out of her grasp and took a long direct stride toward the man. “I beg your pardon?”
    The big man only smiled. “You heard me.”
    Simon started forward again, but Elizabeth pulled on his arm.
    “We can’t afford to see the police,” she whispered. “Let’s just go.”
    Simon’s eyes flared, and he turned back to the big man. Long dormant emotions boiled to the fore. His instinct to defend Elizabeth crashed into his common sense. He’d known more than his fair share of bullies, and most could be cowed with a biting remark. But this was something different. He’d never felt such an overwhelming desire to punch someone in the mouth.
    “Professor,” Elizabeth urged and tugged on his arm.
    Simon gave the man a long, steely glare before he turned back to Elizabeth. Without another word, he took her by the arm and led her out of the alley.
    “Good idea, Professor,” the man snarled.
    They were half way down the block before Simon released her. He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’m sorry.”
    Elizabeth grinned. “You’d better stop apologizing. Might be habit forming.”
    Simon couldn’t help but smile back. Why couldn’t he have smiled like that back home? Had to be here, she thought, and looked around at the busy street. Wherever here is. Elizabeth self-consciously wrapped her arms across her chest and looked down the street.
    The cars were huge, and there were so many of them. Big black sedans, with cloth-canopied tops and headlamps sticking out like bug eyes meandered along the street creating some semblance of lanes. The foot traffic surged around them, and Elizabeth suddenly felt terribly underdressed. Some men wore knickers and bow ties, or Oxford bag pants that ballooned as they walked past. Every one of them wore a hat. Fedoras and bowlers. And the women too. They all had on hats. Tight-fitting cloches or veiled peekaboos. And dresses.
    A couple glared at her, whispering disapproval as they noticed her pants. Not one woman wore slacks, only dresses and skirts. Some wore their hose turned-down in a risqué fashion statement, but clearly wearing blue jeans was not something a lady did.
    Hundreds of cars and thousands of people teemed around them in a dizzying rush. More and more passersby gave them odd, disapproving looks.
    A young boy with a ragged, woolen cap strode past them. “Paper! Get your paper here!”
    Simon startled her as he called out. “Boy!”
    The young man came over to them and held out a paper. Simon reached into his pockets then realized he didn’t have any change. And even if he did, she realized, they couldn’t start spreading twenty-first century money into the past.
    “Sorry, I don’t,” Simon showed the boy his empty palm.
    The newsboy sighed, but then seemed to notice Elizabeth for the first time. He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Ain’t you the stuff?”
    Simon stepped closer to Elizabeth and narrowed his eyes. Elizabeth rolled her eyes and took the opportunity to get a glance at the paper.
    “Just lookin’,” the kid said quickly and started back down the street.
    Elizabeth leaned in and whispered in Simon’s ear. “You were right. July 17, 1929. And the Yankees lost again.”
    Simon raised his eyebrow in question.
    “Read the headline.”
    “That’s my girl,” he said, but then cleared his throat and looked away.
    Her stomach fluttered at the compliment, not to mention how adorable he was when he was flustered. “And we know that you can read the watch.”
    “True,” he said, pulling her closer as the crowd surged across the intersection. He led her to an empty doorway away from the mass of people. “But, I’m afraid, reading and