Ladies' Man by Richard Price Read Free Book Online

badly I felt like whimpering. I started to crawl back under the covers, stopped, walked over to the window and went through the motions of adjusting the Venetian blinds. I rattled the blinds for thirty seconds. She began to snore.
    I lay in bed staring at the ceiling again.
    "Feed me"—more to myself than out loud. I could hear the grinding of the kitchen wall clock. The bed pulsed slightly with breathing.
    "Feed me"—louder, a harsh whisper. A neck vein twitched hotly under my jaw. My eyes itched.
    "Feed me, bitch." In a normal speaking voice. She slowly raised her face from the pillow and stared at me in the darkness. I thought I would die.
     

TUESDAY

     
    I got up at seven. La Donna was still sleeping and I slipped right back into the hunger. Anytime I got up before her I would lie in bed just in case when she woke up she might feel like it. She would always tell me she wasn't a morning person. I guess that meant opposed to an evening person, although I wasn't seeing much difference. I rolled on my side and started rubbing her back. Her skin felt toasty through her tank top. After a few minutes I rolled away from her as if I was playing hard to get. Since last night I'd rolled over so much I felt like a trained dog. I began drifting back
to
sleep when I heard her waking up. I rolled toward her. Her face was six inches off the pillow, sleep-smeared and dazed. She looked like she was just hatched. I rubbed her back again and threw my leg over her behind. She yawned, smiled, darted a kiss on my shoulder and did some rolling of her own—right out of bed. I watched her ruddy ass as she toddled across the bedroom to the bathroom.
    Seven-twenty-seven. Work. I felt like crying. I had never shaken that elementary school dread of the morning.
    "Up and at 'em, Kenny, it's seven-thirty."
    I didn't answer. She started singing to herself. "I wish you bluebirds da da da," and headed for the kitchen.
    Coffee, vanilla yogurt and a cigarette for me, tea, whole wheat toast with honey for her. "Do you know the way to San Jose," she declared, staring, hypnotized over her raised teacup, and absently blew the steam away from her face.
    "Do I know what?" I tried to sound like don't bother me, I'm wrapped up in my own thoughts. She was in a good mood, and it pissed me off.
    "Do you know the way to San Ho-Zay," she sang. "I think I'm gonna do that instead Sunday night. Or maybe this! 'If you see me walk-ing down the street and I start to cry, each time we meet, Walk on by-y-y.'"
    I sulked harder. It seemed she had convinced herself that Fantasia was the greatest thing to come down the pike since sliced bread. It was like living with Blanche DuBois. But I didn't give a fuck anymore. I wasn't get-tin'; then I wasn't givin'.
    "You were right. Eyes closed chin up worked the best" She hunkered down in her chair rolling her ass-bones against the seat and smiled at me.
    "Oh yeah?" I muttered, looking away.
    She reached across the table and grabbed yesterday's
Post
. She whistled as she read. I couldn't even make her squirm and I wanted her to writhe.
    "You gonna see Bossanova today?"
    "Madame Bassova, Basa
o
va." She looked up from the paper. "When are you gonna get that straight?" she asked with lightweight petulance.
    "Sorry, sorry, Bas
so
va, Bas
so
va. I should know how to pronounce it by now, I guess. I write her name on enough checks,
that's
for sure."
    Her head snapped up, and I immediately felt like a stone prick, subtlety up the ass, cards on the table, on the floor, in your eye. I tried to cover fast. "Is she doin' good with you?" I grinned like a mule eating shit. "That's such a goddamned weird building, the Ansonia. They got more wackos than Creedmore. You know, there must be twenty-five guys that call themselves maestro or professor and I bet ten Anastasia Romanovs." No good. She looked hurt and furious at the same time and I felt my chest break out in a constellation of heat rash..
    She stared at me deadeye and her mouth got square and