so deceiving. St. Cloud wondered why he had such an unaccountable attraction to this woman who had entered his life so recently. She started turning up late at night drifting alone along Duval Street, protected by a serene beauty which scared off the usual needle-boy thugs and hot-rod Navy romeos cruising the bars for someone to write home about. She was after the music, floating from bar to bar where rock-and-roll bands and solo guitar pickers plied their trade to locals and tourists listening for a lyric to hang a bad love affair on. Seldom was she approached, although she was obviously the answer to most men’s desire, but packaged in such bright, fleshy reality she prevailed and intimidated. She dressed at night in a loose white cotton dress leaving everything to be desired open to the observing mind’s eye. When approached there were always a few words, a slight laugh and tilt of her head, sending the suitor off in an awkward dogtrot, humbled to be allowed the privilege of awaiting his turn at the back of some invisible line that wound out the door, along the neon-lit one-mile length of Duval Street stretching end to end from the Atlantic Ocean on one side to the Gulf of Mexico on the other. Sometimes she was ready to dance, so one of the brave few who approached her was allowed to escort her into the sweating crowd gyrating before the electrical blast of notes from refrigerator-sizeloudspeakers. She never looked at her partner, the queer smile on her face fixed far away, as if dancing with someone thousands of miles distant. She stayed cool and irresistible, no matter how hot the crowded room or how robustly the randy sideshow suitors hooted their lust. St. Cloud had never seen anything like it, and he thought he had seen things never seen by man before, drunk or drugged. She was one cute player, and if he was going to win he had to play her cute game.
“Thanks for your earlier offer of selling me a bird, but I don’t need one.” St. Cloud summoned up what he thought was his most beguiling smile. “Maybe I can buy this fellow for you.” He pointed at the cockatoo balanced on her finger. “You seem to create quite an effect on him. Seems a pity to keep the two of you separated.”
The cockatoo craned its neck, its salmon-crested head feathers stiffening into a brilliant crown. She stroked the cockatoo’s outstretched neck. “I’m not so special. This little guy is just a born lover. He’s been handled by Evelyn ever since he got out of the egg. Besides, I’m really a dog person. I’m saving up to buy a dog.”
St. Cloud pulled another trick from his bag. “That’s what you were looking for in the want ads when I came in?”
“How did y’all know that? I found one just today up past Little Torch Key. Someone has a litter and I called and said I’d put down a twenty-five-dollar deposit. They only have one left and want four hundred dollars for him. I don’t know if they’ll hold him until I can get all the money.”
“Evelyn’s very good about those things, why don’t you ask her to give you an advance?”
“No.” She stopped stroking the cockatoo and quickly placed it back in its cage, sliding the door closed with a loud clack. “I’ll earn my own money.” The queer little smile left her lips. She turned and walked back toward the desk.
St. Cloud now knew what it felt like to be dismissed by her like one of the boys at the bar waiting for a dance, sent to the back of the line. He needed to get another trick out of his bag. She was moving away from him, down the row of cages. Then he understood. The fluid way she moved, as if gravity was an irritant which had to be pushed aside, the sway of hips, the slant of rounded calves, the forward tilt of her shoulders, all of it combined did not add up to the somnolent step of a sleepwalker, but of someone walking underwater. He finally understood what the inexplicable attraction was, why he had to talkto her instead of just tracking her in his
“Thanks for your earlier offer of selling me a bird, but I don’t need one.” St. Cloud summoned up what he thought was his most beguiling smile. “Maybe I can buy this fellow for you.” He pointed at the cockatoo balanced on her finger. “You seem to create quite an effect on him. Seems a pity to keep the two of you separated.”
The cockatoo craned its neck, its salmon-crested head feathers stiffening into a brilliant crown. She stroked the cockatoo’s outstretched neck. “I’m not so special. This little guy is just a born lover. He’s been handled by Evelyn ever since he got out of the egg. Besides, I’m really a dog person. I’m saving up to buy a dog.”
St. Cloud pulled another trick from his bag. “That’s what you were looking for in the want ads when I came in?”
“How did y’all know that? I found one just today up past Little Torch Key. Someone has a litter and I called and said I’d put down a twenty-five-dollar deposit. They only have one left and want four hundred dollars for him. I don’t know if they’ll hold him until I can get all the money.”
“Evelyn’s very good about those things, why don’t you ask her to give you an advance?”
“No.” She stopped stroking the cockatoo and quickly placed it back in its cage, sliding the door closed with a loud clack. “I’ll earn my own money.” The queer little smile left her lips. She turned and walked back toward the desk.
St. Cloud now knew what it felt like to be dismissed by her like one of the boys at the bar waiting for a dance, sent to the back of the line. He needed to get another trick out of his bag. She was moving away from him, down the row of cages. Then he understood. The fluid way she moved, as if gravity was an irritant which had to be pushed aside, the sway of hips, the slant of rounded calves, the forward tilt of her shoulders, all of it combined did not add up to the somnolent step of a sleepwalker, but of someone walking underwater. He finally understood what the inexplicable attraction was, why he had to talkto her instead of just tracking her in his
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