Read Online A Hell of a Woman (Crime Masterworks) by Jim Thompson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jim Thompson
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didn't I?" I said. "You want me to put it in writing?"
I drove across a railroad spur, turned down a dirt road and parked. There weren't any streetlights over that way, and there wasn't any traffic. I put my arms around her, and pulled her against me.
I kissed her, and ran a hand over her. And what happened then was so wild and wonderful that-well, I don't know how to say it. I guess a hop-eater's dream might be something like that.
I've been around, see? I'm not one of these old country boys that can work up a boil around a lingerie counter. I've known the twenty-dollar gals and the nicey-nice babes who were just out for kicks. But I'd never known anything like that before.
Then, it was all over-it was, as far as I was concerned. But that didn't seem to mean nothing to her. I said, "Baby… " and then I said, "My God, honey… "and finally I said, "What the hell is this?"
I shoved her away, and got back on my own side of the seat. That seemed to break the spell, as they say in story books.
"I'm s-sorry." She bit her lip, trying not to look at me, looking ashamed. "I j-just love you so much that-that-"
_But how about a ba be like this? Maybe I had the wrong angle on things. Maybe the old woman was just selling something to keep it from going for free_.
That thought went in and out of my mind fast. It didn't even have time to say hello before I'd booted it out in the cold and slammed the door. Because even a damned fool could see that this kid was a doll, just as sweet and innocent as they come. And naturally with everything I was doing for her-with everything she thought I was doing for her-she wanted to do something special for me.
That was the way I wanted it, the way it should be. After all the tramps I'd been tied up with, it was about time I met someone who was grateful and loving and appreciative.
I told her she was swell, and everything was swell. I just hadn't wanted to hold her up tonight when she was already late. "About this gun your aunt has," I said, starting the car. "Where does she keep it?"
"Upstairs. In her room.. Dolly-"
"She keeps the key to the room with her? Swell. Now you get your clothes straightened out, and I'll drive you back to the shopping center."
"Dolly"-she started brushing at her clothes- "What-how are you going to do it, Dolly? I mean, I ought to know if-"
"Huh-uh," I said. "You don't need to know a thing. If you had it on your mind you might accidentally give it away, so just forget about it."
"B-but-"
"You hear? Forget it," I said. "All you have to do is be at home Monday night between eight-thirty and nine."
"Eight-thirty or nine?"
"Or ten. Somewhere along there," I said.
"You asked-you started to ask about Pete Hendrickson last night. What does he-?"
"Nothing," I said, and it didn't look like I was lying about that. Pete wasn't going to have anything to do with it. I wasn't going to. And I sure felt sorry for her, but what could I do? "Now leave it lay, will you?" I said. "You keep asking questions I'm liable to think you don't trust me."
"I'm sorry. I just wondered what-"
"Here's where you get out," I said, and I handed her the groceries. "Now, hurry on home and don't worry about a thing. Everything's going to be fine."
She opened the door of the car and started to get out. She turned back around worriedly, apologetically, her lips parted for another try.
I leaned forward and kissed her, gave her a little punch. "Beat it," I said. "You hear me, honey? I want to see you move."
She smiled. She beat it. I drove away.
I made a few more tours of skid row, and it was still no soap. It looked like Pete must have jumped town. I got a bite to eat and bought another pint, and drove home, figuring, well, hell, maybe that's the way it's supposed to be.
I think I told you earlier that this shack of ours was on a railroad siding, that there was the tracks on one side and a wrecking yard on the other? Anyway, I meant to tell you. So I drove home that night, and there was a
I drove across a railroad spur, turned down a dirt road and parked. There weren't any streetlights over that way, and there wasn't any traffic. I put my arms around her, and pulled her against me.
I kissed her, and ran a hand over her. And what happened then was so wild and wonderful that-well, I don't know how to say it. I guess a hop-eater's dream might be something like that.
I've been around, see? I'm not one of these old country boys that can work up a boil around a lingerie counter. I've known the twenty-dollar gals and the nicey-nice babes who were just out for kicks. But I'd never known anything like that before.
Then, it was all over-it was, as far as I was concerned. But that didn't seem to mean nothing to her. I said, "Baby… " and then I said, "My God, honey… "and finally I said, "What the hell is this?"
I shoved her away, and got back on my own side of the seat. That seemed to break the spell, as they say in story books.
"I'm s-sorry." She bit her lip, trying not to look at me, looking ashamed. "I j-just love you so much that-that-"
_But how about a ba be like this? Maybe I had the wrong angle on things. Maybe the old woman was just selling something to keep it from going for free_.
That thought went in and out of my mind fast. It didn't even have time to say hello before I'd booted it out in the cold and slammed the door. Because even a damned fool could see that this kid was a doll, just as sweet and innocent as they come. And naturally with everything I was doing for her-with everything she thought I was doing for her-she wanted to do something special for me.
That was the way I wanted it, the way it should be. After all the tramps I'd been tied up with, it was about time I met someone who was grateful and loving and appreciative.
I told her she was swell, and everything was swell. I just hadn't wanted to hold her up tonight when she was already late. "About this gun your aunt has," I said, starting the car. "Where does she keep it?"
"Upstairs. In her room.. Dolly-"
"She keeps the key to the room with her? Swell. Now you get your clothes straightened out, and I'll drive you back to the shopping center."
"Dolly"-she started brushing at her clothes- "What-how are you going to do it, Dolly? I mean, I ought to know if-"
"Huh-uh," I said. "You don't need to know a thing. If you had it on your mind you might accidentally give it away, so just forget about it."
"B-but-"
"You hear? Forget it," I said. "All you have to do is be at home Monday night between eight-thirty and nine."
"Eight-thirty or nine?"
"Or ten. Somewhere along there," I said.
"You asked-you started to ask about Pete Hendrickson last night. What does he-?"
"Nothing," I said, and it didn't look like I was lying about that. Pete wasn't going to have anything to do with it. I wasn't going to. And I sure felt sorry for her, but what could I do? "Now leave it lay, will you?" I said. "You keep asking questions I'm liable to think you don't trust me."
"I'm sorry. I just wondered what-"
"Here's where you get out," I said, and I handed her the groceries. "Now, hurry on home and don't worry about a thing. Everything's going to be fine."
She opened the door of the car and started to get out. She turned back around worriedly, apologetically, her lips parted for another try.
I leaned forward and kissed her, gave her a little punch. "Beat it," I said. "You hear me, honey? I want to see you move."
She smiled. She beat it. I drove away.
I made a few more tours of skid row, and it was still no soap. It looked like Pete must have jumped town. I got a bite to eat and bought another pint, and drove home, figuring, well, hell, maybe that's the way it's supposed to be.
I think I told you earlier that this shack of ours was on a railroad siding, that there was the tracks on one side and a wrecking yard on the other? Anyway, I meant to tell you. So I drove home that night, and there was a
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