off-Broadway
and in television, even taught in college, and I know the
business. Betty Sue might have made it. And I confess
that I intended to use her if she did." He sighed again.
"Athletic coaches often rise on the legs of their star
players, and I saw no reason why I shouldn't have the
same chance. So I abstained. Betty Sue, as young girls
so often do, might have grown bored with the older
man in her life, and confused the sexual relationship
with the professional one. So, my friend, I kept my
hands off her," he said with just the right touch of
remorse mixed with pride.
"I'm sorry," I said, trying to see his fare behind the
wistful mask. "You must still have friends in the
52
theatre," I said, "and I assume that you have asked
them about Betty Sue over the years. "
"So often that I've become an object of some
derision," he said ruefully. "But no one has ever seen
or heard of her. That's a dead end, I'm afraid."
"Could she have been pregnant?"
"She could have, yes," he said. "I assumed that she
wasn't a virgin much past her fourteenth birthday. But,
of course, I had no way of knowing."
"You know," I said, still bothered about the earlier
lie about his drink, "sometimes people confess a little
thing-like your selfish intentions about her career-to
cover up something larger."
"What could I possibly have to hide?" he said
blandly.
"I don't know," I said, then leaned forward until our
hands nearly touched. "I've got a little education," I
said, "but I'm particularly sophisticated-"
"Still a country boy at heart?" he interrupted.
"Right. And, like you said, you're a professionalyou know all about acting and lying, wearing masks," I said, "and if I find out that you've been lying to me, old
buddy, I'll damn sure be back to discuss it with you." I
crushed my empty beer can in my fist. An oldfashioned steel can.
Gleeson laughed nervously. "You're a terrible
fraud," he said as cheerfully as he could. "You couldn't
fool a child with that act."
"Unlike yours, old buddy," I said, "mine ain't an
act." Then I grabbed his wrist and squeezed the heavy
silver bracelet into his soft flesh. "Intellectual discourse
is great, man, but in my business, violence and pain is
where it's at. "
"My god," he squeaked, squirming, "you're breaking my ann."
"That's just the beginning, man," I said. "Keep in
53
mind the fact that I like this, that I don't like you worth
a damn."
"Please," he whimpered, sweat beading across his
scalp.
"Let's have the rest of it," I whispered.
"There's nothing, I swear . . . Please . . . you're
breaking . . . "
"Listen, old buddy," I said pleasantly, "the U.S.
Army trained me at great expense in interrogation,
filled my head with all sorts of psychological crap, but
when I got to Nam, we didn't do no psychology, we
hooked the little suckers up to a telephone crankalligator clips on the foreskin and nipples-and the little bastards were a hundred times tougher than you,
but when we rang that telephone, the little bastards
answered."
"All right," he groaned, "all right." I released h,is
wrist. "Can't you get this off?" he grunted as he
struggled with the bent bracelet.
"Sure," I said, then straightened the silver. His face
wrinkled and his eyelids fluttered. He rubbed his wrist
as I fixed him a drink. "You had something to tell me."
"Yes, right. Once, some time ago," he babbled, "I
thought I saw her in a porno flick over in the city. The
girl was fat and awful, a pig, it might have been her, it
looked like her, the print was bad, all grainy, and the
lighting even worse, but it looked like her, except for
this scar, this ugly scar in the middle of her belly."
When he stopped talking, his ruined mouth kept
moving like a small animal in its death throes.
"Why lie about that?" I asked, honestly amazed.
"I was
I
.
.
.
am ashamed of my interest in that . . .
that sort of thing," he said, then rushed into his drink.
"And it was so sordid, that awful
and in television, even taught in college, and I know the
business. Betty Sue might have made it. And I confess
that I intended to use her if she did." He sighed again.
"Athletic coaches often rise on the legs of their star
players, and I saw no reason why I shouldn't have the
same chance. So I abstained. Betty Sue, as young girls
so often do, might have grown bored with the older
man in her life, and confused the sexual relationship
with the professional one. So, my friend, I kept my
hands off her," he said with just the right touch of
remorse mixed with pride.
"I'm sorry," I said, trying to see his fare behind the
wistful mask. "You must still have friends in the
52
theatre," I said, "and I assume that you have asked
them about Betty Sue over the years. "
"So often that I've become an object of some
derision," he said ruefully. "But no one has ever seen
or heard of her. That's a dead end, I'm afraid."
"Could she have been pregnant?"
"She could have, yes," he said. "I assumed that she
wasn't a virgin much past her fourteenth birthday. But,
of course, I had no way of knowing."
"You know," I said, still bothered about the earlier
lie about his drink, "sometimes people confess a little
thing-like your selfish intentions about her career-to
cover up something larger."
"What could I possibly have to hide?" he said
blandly.
"I don't know," I said, then leaned forward until our
hands nearly touched. "I've got a little education," I
said, "but I'm particularly sophisticated-"
"Still a country boy at heart?" he interrupted.
"Right. And, like you said, you're a professionalyou know all about acting and lying, wearing masks," I said, "and if I find out that you've been lying to me, old
buddy, I'll damn sure be back to discuss it with you." I
crushed my empty beer can in my fist. An oldfashioned steel can.
Gleeson laughed nervously. "You're a terrible
fraud," he said as cheerfully as he could. "You couldn't
fool a child with that act."
"Unlike yours, old buddy," I said, "mine ain't an
act." Then I grabbed his wrist and squeezed the heavy
silver bracelet into his soft flesh. "Intellectual discourse
is great, man, but in my business, violence and pain is
where it's at. "
"My god," he squeaked, squirming, "you're breaking my ann."
"That's just the beginning, man," I said. "Keep in
53
mind the fact that I like this, that I don't like you worth
a damn."
"Please," he whimpered, sweat beading across his
scalp.
"Let's have the rest of it," I whispered.
"There's nothing, I swear . . . Please . . . you're
breaking . . . "
"Listen, old buddy," I said pleasantly, "the U.S.
Army trained me at great expense in interrogation,
filled my head with all sorts of psychological crap, but
when I got to Nam, we didn't do no psychology, we
hooked the little suckers up to a telephone crankalligator clips on the foreskin and nipples-and the little bastards were a hundred times tougher than you,
but when we rang that telephone, the little bastards
answered."
"All right," he groaned, "all right." I released h,is
wrist. "Can't you get this off?" he grunted as he
struggled with the bent bracelet.
"Sure," I said, then straightened the silver. His face
wrinkled and his eyelids fluttered. He rubbed his wrist
as I fixed him a drink. "You had something to tell me."
"Yes, right. Once, some time ago," he babbled, "I
thought I saw her in a porno flick over in the city. The
girl was fat and awful, a pig, it might have been her, it
looked like her, the print was bad, all grainy, and the
lighting even worse, but it looked like her, except for
this scar, this ugly scar in the middle of her belly."
When he stopped talking, his ruined mouth kept
moving like a small animal in its death throes.
"Why lie about that?" I asked, honestly amazed.
"I was
I
.
.
.
am ashamed of my interest in that . . .
that sort of thing," he said, then rushed into his drink.
"And it was so sordid, that awful
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