West 47th by Gerald A Browne Read Free Book Online Page B

Laughton.”
    True enough, Maddie silently admitted. Billy got most of the tickets because he was so conscientious about waiting in no-standing zones for her.
    They were now on Fifth Avenue in the black Lexus EL400. Only leftovers of the rush hour now. Lots of buses, though. One after another like elephants tusks to tails.
    Despite the warm July night, Billy had on his uniform. Dove gray twill. Trousers and fitted, high-neck jacket, matching visored cap and gloves. His choice because he’d be doing some waiting out front of the St. Regis with other drivers. Otherwise he’d have worn regular slacks and shirt.
    He committed the car to 46th Street and saw the way was clogged.
    â€œWant some radio?” he asked.
    She didn’t want any radio.
    He made conversation. “Which are you for, Mrs. Laughton, timber or owls?”
    â€œOwls, of course.”
    â€œThat’s because you’re not in need of any timber just now.”
    â€œNor at the moment do I have occasion for an owl.” Then, in the same breath: “Bet he was there and we missed him.”
    For her sake Billy held back saying he didn’t think so. Billy knew when and when not to say things. He’d been Uncle Straw’s driver for years.
    Maddie made herself sit back. She measured her anticipation. Frequently at times like this she felt as though there was a sort of device in her, in her head or belly or pelvis, with which she was able to gauge how intensely she was looking forward to being with Mitch. It had been installed during their earliest time and now, after ten years of marriage, it was still there and she believed it always would be. Tonight it seemed to be on a cross circuit, arcing from her head to her pelvis, lingering at the latter.
    Early. It would have pleased her if he’d been early, waiting on the corner of 47th and Fifth, his eagerness shifting him, making it impossible for him to stand still, his eyes searching up the avenue for her being brought to him. Him, her precious love, trying to hurry time, pacing, trying to bear the edge of his anticipation with pacing.
    She adjusted her dark glasses. With a second finger reset them on the bridge of her nose. Gold wire-rimmed glasses with round magenta-tinted lenses. Chosen from her many pairs, an entire dresser-drawerful.
    â€œWhy are we stopped?” she asked.
    â€œGarbage truck.”
    She pictured it and thought it wouldn’t be difficult for her mind to go from a garbage truck to blank. But her mind wouldn’t mind. It went from the garbage truck to the Manalo Blahnik navy satin pumps she had on, which still felt somewhat tight and made her wonder if her feet were getting fat, and from that to whether or not she’d remembered to close the door of her aviary, to wondering what Elise and Marian might be doing that moment in Spain where it was now midnight or later. The last she’d heard from Elise they’d wanted to move from Marbella back to Barcelona. Oddly that desire had arrived by letter rather than the usual phone call. To make sure Mitch was in on it, Maddie thought. “New stationery,” Mitch had remarked before reading it aloud. Very fine, lined stationery from Armorial the Graveur on Fauborg St. Honoré. The letter said (its only purpose, really) that Marian had located a darling apartment in Barcelona’s better district, expensive but darling, not all that large but sumptuous, more for intimacy than for entertaining. Why was it Elise couldn’t communicate without using words or phrases that were certain to conjure up sexual images? Was it her intention to boast? It seemed so to Maddie.
    â€œPhone him,” she told Billy.
    â€œI did, just now. No answer.”
    He’s down on the street waiting, she told herself and then mentally told Mitch, I didn’t want you to have to wait tonight . Fucking garbage truck.
    As though her cursing was what had been needed to dispel the impediment the way was