The Rip-Off by Jim Thompson Read Free Book Online Page A

anyone like that but you."
    "I know," I said. "I also have been waiting."
    You can see why I said it, why I just about had to say it. She was my munificent benefactor and she was gorgeous beyond my wildest dreams, and she obviously wanted to and needed to be screwed. So what the hell else could I do?
    "Britt…" She wiggled restlessly. "I have a live-in maid at my apartment."
    "Unfortunate," I said. "My housekeeper also lives in."
    "Well? Well, Britt, dear?"
    "Well, I know of a place…" I broke off, carefully amended the statement. "I mean, I've heard of one. It's nothing fancy, I understand. No private baths or similar niceties. But it's clean and comfortable and safe… or so I'm reliably told."
    "Well?" she said.
    "Well?" I said.
    She didn't say anything. Simply reached out and turned on the ignition.

8
    More than a month went by before I met Patrick Xavier Aloe. It was at a party at his house, and Manny and I went to it together.
    Judging by his voice, the one telephone conversation I had had with him, I supposed him to be a towering giant of a man. But while he was broad shouldered and powerful-looking, he was little taller than Manny.
    "Glad to finally meet up with you, Britt, baby." He beamed at me out of his broad darkly Irish face. "What have you got under your arm there, one of Manny's pizzas?"
    "He has the complete manuscript of a pamphlet," Manny said proudly. "And it's darned good, too!"
    "It is, huh? What d'ya say, Britt? Is she telling the truth or not?"
    "Well…" I hesitated modestly. "I'm sure there's room for improvement, but-"
    "We'll see, we'll see," he broke in laughing. "You two grab a drink, and come on."
    We followed him through the small crowd of guests, all polite and respectable-appearing, but perhaps a little on the watchful side. We went into the library, and Pat Aloe waved us to chairs, then sat down behind the desk, carefully removed my manuscript from its envelope and began to read.
    He read rapidly but intently, with no skimming or skipping. I could tell that by his occasional questions. In fact, he was so long in reading that Manny asked crossly if he was trying to memorize the script, adding that we didn't have the whole goddamned evening to spend at his stupid house. Pat Aloe told her mildly to shut her goddamned mouth, and went back to his reading.
    I had long since become used to Manny's occasionally salty talk, and learned that I was not privileged to respond in kind. But Pat clearly was not taking orders from her. Despite his air of easygoing geniality, he was very much in command of Aloe activities. And, I was to find, he tolerated no violation of his authority.
    When he had finished the last page of my manuscript, he put it with the others and returned them all to their envelope. Then, he removed his reading glasses, thoughtfully massaged the bridge of his nose, and at last turned to me with a sober nod.
    "You're a good man, Britt. It's a good job."
    "Thank you," I said. "Thank you, very much."
    Manny said words were cheap. How about a bonus for me? But Pat winked at her, and waved her to silence.
    "Y'know, Britt, I thought this deal would turn out the same kind of frammis that Manny's husband pulled. Banging the b'Jesus out of her, and pissing off the work. But I'm glad to admit I was wrong. You're A-OK, baby, and I'll swear to it on a stack of Bibles!"
    Fortunately, I didn't have to acknowledge the compliment-such as it was-since Manny had begun cursing him luridly with his overripe appraisal of her late husband. Pat's booming laugh drowned out her protest.
    "Ain't she a terror, though, Britt? Just like the rest of her family, when she had a family. Her folks didn't speak to mine for years, just because my pop married an Irisher."
    "Just don't you forget that bonus," Manny said. "You do and it'll be your big red ass."
    "Hell, take care of it yourself," Pat said. "Make her come across heavy, Britt, baby. Hear me?"
    I mumbled that I would do it. Grinning stiffly, feeling awkward