Read Online Heading South by Dany Laferrière - Free Book Online

slight American accent. She gives him a long, languorous wink.
    â€œDon’t mention it,” Charlie says calmly, “I like the way you play . . .”
    â€œReally? You have no idea how happy that makes me! Thank you so much.” And she continues on her way, smiling.
    â€œWhat did you say to her? I’ve never seen June so excited before . . . Did you see that wink she gave you?”
    â€œShe’s a nice girl.”
    â€œWhat? A nice girl? She’s marvellous, my friend. She’s the most beautiful woman I know.”
    Hansy seems on the point of bursting with excitement.
    â€œDon’t mind me,” he says, “I get like this . . . I’m hypersensitive, you see . . . But June . . . I’ve never seen her like this . . . And you take it so . . . casually . . . Oh, I see, she’s not the right gender for you, is that it?”
    Without Charlie being aware of it, someone has come up to stand beside Hansy.
    â€œHansy, darling, what are you doing, talking to this imbecile?” “Who do you mean, Missie?” Hansy says, looking frantically about.
    â€œThe idiot standing in front of you, Hansy.”
    â€œHim? Do you know him?”
    â€œI saw him this morning.”
    â€œAh!” says Hansy, laughing. “It was you playing June, was it? Florence called me to say June absolutely wiped the court with someone this morning, but she wouldn’t tell me who it was . . .”
    â€œOh, stop it, Hansy. As for him, I don’t know how he got in here, but . . .”
    â€œHe’s here as my personal guest . . . a dear friend . . . Let me introduce you . . . In the left corner, Missie Abel, tolerable as a tennis player but intolerable off the court . . . And in the right corner, my good friend Charlie . . . Let the games begin . . .”
    â€œI don’t know where you dig up your dear friends, Hansy, but for heaven’s sake you don’t have to drag them in here . . .”
    â€œI don’t think I need to mention that no holds are barred.”
    â€œAt any rate,” Charlie says evenly, “I don’t like bottle blondes. ”
    â€œWhat! Me, a bottle blonde! You’re out of your mind! You don’t know what you’re talking about! You see, Hansy, I told you he was an idiot.”
    â€œAnd worse than bottle blondes,” continues Charlie, “what I dislike even more are real blondes who never stop bragging about it.”
    Missie’s mouth drops open.
    â€œI’m going to get a whisky, Hansy,” Charlie says. “Do you want a drink?”
    â€œI’ll have the same,” Hansy replies. “What about you, Missie?”
    â€œWhat?” says Missie.
    â€œDo you want something? Charlie’s getting the drinks.”
    â€œNo,” she says, barely managing a whisper.
    Missie still seems to be suffering from shock.
    â€œTechnical knockout,” Hansy says, ending the bout.
    â€œDID YOU SEE HANSY?” asks the barman.
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œAnd how did it go with her?”
    â€œThe trap has been baited.”
    â€œLet me buy you a drink . . . What’ll it be?”
    â€œTwo whiskies. I’ll pay for Hansy’s.”
    â€œHey, now, you’re not going to let yourself pay for these rich gents, are you? They’re very good at that game . . . I’ll give you two whiskies on the house. I’ll put a little water in the bottle and keep it under the counter until the end of the evening, say around three in the morning, when all they’ll taste is the fire . . . Don’t worry, I’ve been here twenty years. I know the way things are around here. I served the fathers, and now I’m serving the sons.”
    Charlie goes back to Hansy, who is standing beside the battered old piano.
    â€œNo one but Jacky Duroseau can play this thing now. He completely wrecked it by pouring whisky all over it. When he drinks, he thinks the piano should drink, too. He’s