Read Online Reckless Eyeballing by Ishmael Reed - Free Book Online

trying to piece together the details of this tragedy. We tried to get in touch with the college, Mary Phegan, but the Georgia operator said that there was no such college. Would you like to have some coffee?”
    â€œI need some,” he said. She went over to a table that stood in front of a window. Outside, old wavers, new wavers, and future wavers; writers, poets, playwrights, and tourists could be seen strolling down Avenue A.
    She had her back to him. “Cream and sugar?” I’d like to cream you, Ball thought. He wanted to go up behind her, rub a stiff erection against her ass, and cup her breasts with his hands. He could imagine her closing her eyes and her tongue sliding over the part where her lips would ordinarily be, but he thought differently. She had a reputation for being difficult to bed. Some had even said that no man’s panzer division had ever crossed her tight Maginot Line. She poured the contents of a white thermos into a ceramic cup that had Lord Mountbatten’s heraldic shield on it. She gave him a professional smile as she handed him the coffee.
    â€œWe still plan to do your play, of course; Jim’s death won’t change that. I mean, we wouldn’t think of scratching a play that Jim had such interest in. We’d like to make one change.”
    â€œChange?”
    â€œYes,” she said, sipping from her cup and lowering her eyelids. “We think that the play still has some rough edges, and so we’d like to move it from the Lord Mountbatten to the Queen Mother.” She studied him as he formed his response. The Queen Mother didn’t have good equipment. Lights were bad, the stage small, and the seats uncomfortable. There was a limited supply of dressing room space, and it seated only ninety-nine people. It didn’t have the Mountbatten’s prestige.
    â€œWe’re going to give it a workshop, and, well, if anything comes of it, we’ll perhaps—well, there might be some room at the Mountbatten next season.” He rose. He was angry.
    â€œA workshop?” He looked down at her. He saw her finger move to the button that would summon Mr. Ickey. “But, but, Jim thought that it was a major play. Deserving of the Mountbatten. I don’t get it. A workshop!”
    Becky’s assistant Ickey had gotten his mocking smile from her. She sighed. “Look, Jim’s dead. I also don’t mind telling you that I was against doing your play, originally. It read like a first draft. I was only complying with Jim’s request.” Yeah, I know all about it, Ball thought. He brought in all of the grants. He wished that the Flower Phantom would get this bitch, but reproached himself for even entertaining such a thought.
    â€œWell, how do you feel about it? Take it or leave it.”
    â€œI guess that the Queen Mother is better than nothing.” He thought of all of the fellas who weren’t even able to get that. You should be grateful, he heard his mother say.
    â€œI’m glad that you see it our way,” she said, more relaxed now. “You know, Ian, you’re pretty good. You continue to write and maybe one day you’ll be as good as Tremonisha Smarts, and I might tell you that Tremonisha and I feel that you’ve come a long way from that misogynistic piece of drivel Suzanna that all of the male critics applauded.” She looked up. Her assistant was standing in the doorway. He wore a smirk. “Tremonisha is on the phone.”
    â€œTell her I’ll call her back,” Becky said, glancing at her watch. Ball could take a hint.
    â€œJim said that you were thinking of doing a play about Eva Braun.” She’d returned her attention to the papers on her desk and seemed annoyed that he was still in the room. Probably liked to fuck with the man on the bottom, Ball thought. Probably masturbated to ragas.
    â€œYou say something?” She was impatient.
    â€œYeah. Jim said that you were