Read Online A Key to the Suite by John D. MacDonald - Free Book Online
Authors: John D. MacDonald
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to be at the speaker’s table, the addition of Cory Barlund created no problem. The table where she was seated also contained Cass and Sue Beatty, Connie Mulaney, Floyd Hubbard, Fred Frick, Dave Daniels and Stu Gallard. It was a round table near the platform. She sat directly across from Floyd. She was between Stu and Dave. Floyd was between Connie and Sue Beatty.
“That,” whispered Sue, caught between indignation and admiration, “is one hell of a doll indeed.”
“Yes indeed.”
“Makes me feel the way I did when I was a fat child with braces on my teeth.”
“You look fine, Sue.”
“I wasn’t fishing. You know, that girl comes on slow. She builds. The more you look, the more you see. Floyd, only a woman could know what kind of a total effort that takes, all the time and thought and care.”
Sue Beatty clucked and shook her head. Sue was a hearty dominant woman in her middle thirties, heavy in hip and bust, solid but not fat, fond of bright colors, spiced foods, sweet drinks and lusty laughter.
There was so much noise in the room and so much conversation on the other side of the table they could talk with relative privacy.
“How old is she, Floyd? What would you say?”
“Twenty-two? Twenty-three?”
“How she would love you for that! Look at the backs of her hands, dear man. And the base of her throat. Twenty-eight if a day. But doing very very well at looking twenty-two. Don’t look at me like that. I know whereof I speak.”
Floyd looked across at Cory in animated conversation with Stu Gallard. It was curiously disconcerting to think of Cory as being the same age as Jan. And his astonishment seemed a kind of disloyalty. It wasn’t fair to Jan, of course. This Barlund girl apparently had nothing to do except keep herself as attractive as possible, and play around at little projects like this magazine thing. She had the sound and look and manner of money. Give Jan the same opportunity, and she could …
“Dave Daniels is moving in for the kill,” Sue whispered. “Watch him.”
Daniels, Floyd knew, had done more than his share of drinking before they left the suite. He was a big man, with all the simple devices of total vanity. Jan had met him once, after a series of meetings in Houston, and had placidly remarked that Dave Daniels was what you might get if you could cross Marshal Dillon with a horse.
Dave had broken up the Barlund-Gallard dialogue, and he was leaning close to Cory, talking in a low, intent, private voice, a half smile on his hard mouth, his eyes half closed. She listened without expression. He leaned closer and said a few words directly into her ear, laying his fingertips on her forearm as he did so.
Cory did not move her arm. He moved his fingertips back and forth in a tentative caress. She turned to face him more directly, smiled, and spoke to him for perhaps fifteen seconds. Hismouth sagged open. He snatched his hand away. Cory turned back to Stu Gallard. Dave Daniels turned dark red, and the color faded to a curious sickly white. He pushed the food around on his plate for a few moments and then left the table abruptly.
Hubbard felt a warm delight. She glanced across at him, and he thought he saw one dusky eyelid shield one dark blue eye for a microsecond, but it happened so quickly he could not be certain he had not imagined it.
“Something tells me,” Sue said, “that was a brush-off that’ll have some kind of permanent effect. I guess she’s had some practice.”
“I wouldn’t have thought it could be done,” Hubbard said.
“Oh, it can be done,” Sue said. “Even to the likes of Dave. You decide what a man holds most dear, about himself. Some little illusion. And then you stomp it.”
Hubbard turned to Connie Mulaney on his right and said, “If friends don’t stop this table-hopping to come and talk to you, Mrs. Mulaney, I’ll never get the chance.”
“Just when I get Freddy’s shy little road men to start calling me Connie, you revert to
“That,” whispered Sue, caught between indignation and admiration, “is one hell of a doll indeed.”
“Yes indeed.”
“Makes me feel the way I did when I was a fat child with braces on my teeth.”
“You look fine, Sue.”
“I wasn’t fishing. You know, that girl comes on slow. She builds. The more you look, the more you see. Floyd, only a woman could know what kind of a total effort that takes, all the time and thought and care.”
Sue Beatty clucked and shook her head. Sue was a hearty dominant woman in her middle thirties, heavy in hip and bust, solid but not fat, fond of bright colors, spiced foods, sweet drinks and lusty laughter.
There was so much noise in the room and so much conversation on the other side of the table they could talk with relative privacy.
“How old is she, Floyd? What would you say?”
“Twenty-two? Twenty-three?”
“How she would love you for that! Look at the backs of her hands, dear man. And the base of her throat. Twenty-eight if a day. But doing very very well at looking twenty-two. Don’t look at me like that. I know whereof I speak.”
Floyd looked across at Cory in animated conversation with Stu Gallard. It was curiously disconcerting to think of Cory as being the same age as Jan. And his astonishment seemed a kind of disloyalty. It wasn’t fair to Jan, of course. This Barlund girl apparently had nothing to do except keep herself as attractive as possible, and play around at little projects like this magazine thing. She had the sound and look and manner of money. Give Jan the same opportunity, and she could …
“Dave Daniels is moving in for the kill,” Sue whispered. “Watch him.”
Daniels, Floyd knew, had done more than his share of drinking before they left the suite. He was a big man, with all the simple devices of total vanity. Jan had met him once, after a series of meetings in Houston, and had placidly remarked that Dave Daniels was what you might get if you could cross Marshal Dillon with a horse.
Dave had broken up the Barlund-Gallard dialogue, and he was leaning close to Cory, talking in a low, intent, private voice, a half smile on his hard mouth, his eyes half closed. She listened without expression. He leaned closer and said a few words directly into her ear, laying his fingertips on her forearm as he did so.
Cory did not move her arm. He moved his fingertips back and forth in a tentative caress. She turned to face him more directly, smiled, and spoke to him for perhaps fifteen seconds. Hismouth sagged open. He snatched his hand away. Cory turned back to Stu Gallard. Dave Daniels turned dark red, and the color faded to a curious sickly white. He pushed the food around on his plate for a few moments and then left the table abruptly.
Hubbard felt a warm delight. She glanced across at him, and he thought he saw one dusky eyelid shield one dark blue eye for a microsecond, but it happened so quickly he could not be certain he had not imagined it.
“Something tells me,” Sue said, “that was a brush-off that’ll have some kind of permanent effect. I guess she’s had some practice.”
“I wouldn’t have thought it could be done,” Hubbard said.
“Oh, it can be done,” Sue said. “Even to the likes of Dave. You decide what a man holds most dear, about himself. Some little illusion. And then you stomp it.”
Hubbard turned to Connie Mulaney on his right and said, “If friends don’t stop this table-hopping to come and talk to you, Mrs. Mulaney, I’ll never get the chance.”
“Just when I get Freddy’s shy little road men to start calling me Connie, you revert to
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