The Quick Red Fox by John D. MacDonald Read Free Book Online

illusion of exclusive option, even on the most temporary basis, I guess. But with or without pictures, let’s just say I’m not a trophy hunter.”
    “What the hell does that mean?”
    “Every redblooded American boy should ride a bike no hands and win some merit badges and go to bed with a household name. Some of them don’t get over it, that’s all. I had my celebrity innings, but I’m not a locker room historian. I outgrew my bike too, Lee. It’s a big scene here. Rich silent house and the closed door and your tight pants and that rostrum type bed. And mutual attraction. But it isn’t worth it. It would be like being taught to dance by your elder sister. She would keep trying to lead, and giving irritable little instructions, and counting out loud and spoiling the music. Then she would give you a patronizing pat and say you did just fine.”
    For a moment she had the malignant rigidity of a temple demon. Then an urchin grin, seen often in your favorite movie palace, broke it up. “My God, you
are
a strange one, McGee. You wouldn’t want me as a gift, eh?”
    “Not unless and until it could be more than this for us, Lee.”
    “You mean like real true love?”
    “Affection, understanding, need and respect. You can be sarcastic about that too, if you want. Bed is the simplest thing twopeople can do. If it goes with a lot of other things, it can be important, and if it goes with nothing else, it isn’t worth the time it takes.”
    She strolled over and curled up in a big chair and pondered me, finger laid against the side of her small nose. “The next time around, Mr. McGee, can you arrange to show up in Dayton about fifteen years ago?”
    “I can make a note of it, Miss Dean.”
    “I’ve been through too many mills this time.”
    “Not necessarily.”
    “But you said respect.”
    “Once in a while you stop posing for me and remembering lines from old movies, and then I could respect the person that shows through.”
    “It could be strange to have a friend like you. I have no female friends, really. And just two male friends, fine old guys, both in their early sixties. I love them dearly. Males in your bracket are either studs or competitors, sweetie, or they want to find an angle to get rich off me.”
    “We might end up friends, Lee. I better go along. I am going to take these pictures along.” As I picked them up from the desk she hopped up out of the chair and came running over and grabbed at the envelope. I did not let her pull it out of my hand. I said, “Either you trust me all the way, or I get off right now, Lee. I need them for information and leverage.”
    After looking at me with a long and searching intensity, she let go. “I never thought I’d let anybody even see those. Trav, will you be terribly careful?”
    “Yes.”
    “I can send Dana over with the expense money tomorrow.
    Will that be all right?”
    “Fine.”
    “Please be careful with those pictures. If they get out, my career is dead right now. And … as you must damn well know, it is the only thing I have left.”
    Tears balanced on her lower lids, and one broke loose and tracked her cheek. It did not look real. A makeup man had darted onto the set and put them there with an eyedropper. Pure glycerine. Maybe they weren’t real. She would have learned to cry almost at will, and cry in a way that would leave her as lovely as before.
    “You be careful, Lee. I don’t like the sound of that note. Sexually disturbed people try to be the sword of the Lord, going around slaying the sinful. See that you get pretty good protection this week in Miami.”
    She walked me to the door. She caught at my arm, gave me a quick kiss, as soft and trusting as a child’s, then went down the corridor with me, found Dana Holtzer in a small room, typing, and turned me over to her. Dana got up and took me down the stairs and out to the waiting limousine. I saw the quick and wary way she glanced at the envelope I was carrying, and caught a