Read Online West of Sunset by Stewart O’Nan - Free Book Online Page A

attitude. For a long moment they sat side by side, two wallflowers watching the party.
    When he turned to her, she turned to him in pantomime. It was an old Marx Brothers bit, an imaginary mirror between them.
    She smiled, making him smile.
    â€œI like you,” he said, testing.
    â€œI like
you
,” she said, her accent making her sound slightly surprised.
    With that settled, she turned back to the dance floor. He did too.
    â€œWhy don’t we dance?” she asked, almost formally, like a scientist proposing an experiment.
    â€œI’d love to, but I’m afraid I’ve promised the next one to a friend.”
    â€œShe must be a very good friend.”
    â€œA promise is a promise.”
    â€œThat’s honorable.”
    â€œOr foolish,” he said, “depending.”
    Dottie reappeared, empty-handed, and he excused himself and rose to intercept her. He took her hand and joined the other couples, set a course for the middle of the floor.
    â€œI see you found a friend,” Dottie said.
    â€œEveryone’s my friend tonight.”
    â€œThere are friends and there are friends. Which is she?”
    â€œA new friend.”
    â€œDon’t forget your old ones,” she said, holding him closer. “You know what they say: a friend in need . . .”
    He’d known Dottie long enough to know when she wasn’t joking, and felt sorry for her. Why was he surprised when other people were desperate?
    â€œAlan needs you.”
    â€œOnce a month, whether he needs it or not—like a cat getting a bath. He shuts his eyes and makes faces.”
    â€œWe all do that.”
    â€œHe makes me feel old and fat.”
    He shook his head. “It was a long time ago.”
    â€œDon’t say that.”
    â€œIt was.”
    â€œShe’s too young for you.”
    â€œYou’re probably right.”
    â€œShe just wants your money.”
    â€œI don’t have any money. I don’t have much of anything right now.”
    â€œOkay,” she said, “be a dope.”
    â€œI will,” he said.
    â€œYou’ve always been a sucker for a pretty face—your own.”
    â€œDon’t be jealous.”
    â€œI was born jealous, I can’t help it.”
    â€œIt’s not like I’ve been lucky in love,” he scoffed.
    â€œYou were lucky with me.”
    â€œI was,” he said, since there was no graceful way to say it had been a mistake, though even now he thought of her tenderly. It was the past he was trying to leave behind.
    The song wound down until they were barely swaying, then ended with a mournful flourish. The lights came up.
    â€œGo ahead,” she said, except as they were leaving the floor, the band set aside their instruments and filed offstage, and the president of the Guild stepped to the microphone.
    â€œPlease take your seats. We’ll be starting the program momentarily.”
    â€œâ€˜Momentarily’?” Scott asked.
    â€œHe’s a lawyer,” Dottie said.
    There was confusion as the dance floor cleared and the room settled. Waiters shouldering trays hustled about the periphery. He was afraid the girl would be gone when he and Dottie reached their table, but she was waiting in the same seat, head bent, engaged in conversation with the elfin Anita Loos, who’d written for Griffith. On her far side sat Connelly himself, discussing something with his old pal John O’Hara and Sid’s crazy brother-in-law Pep West, and Scott realized that for her this wasn’t a night out. She was working.
    He took his seat again. The way they were situated he had to lean back to see her. He waited, pointedly ignoring his neighbors, willing her to look up. When she did, he tried to apologize with a helpless shrug.
    She shook her head pityingly as if he’d missed his chance.
    He clasped his hands together in supplication, and she laughed, showing her perfect teeth, and he was hers. Her smile and