Westlake, Donald E - Novel 50 by Sacred Monster (v1.1) Read Free Book Online Page A

           "Oh."
Understanding made her back away along the sofa, adjusting her clothing.
Glancing down at him with dismissive scorn, she said, "That's right. I was
forgetting where it's been."
                 They
both got to their feet, as a knock sounded at the door and a voice called,
"Ten minutes to curtain. Ten minutes to curtain."
                 "I
heard you, I heard you," Jack snapped at the closed door. Turning to
Marcia, he said, "George made this whole thing possible for me. I owe him
... I owe him everything, Marcia. There'll be time for us."
                 "I
think maybe our time is all used up," Marcia said.
                 "Don't
say that. You know how I feel about—"
                 Another
knock sounded at the door. "I heard you!"
                 Marcia
laughed, lightly. The doorknob rattled. Marcia said, "It isn't the
warning, it's your playmate. See you on stage, lover."
                 She
opened the door, fixing her face into the false smile to be presented to the
author of the play, but it was Buddy who entered instead, in his uniform and
carrying his duffel bag over his shoulder, saying happily to Marcia,
"Well, look at you, will you."
                 "My
mistake," Marcia said. "The rough trade is here."
                Easy and amused with her, Buddy
said, “Don't be misled, doll. I can be very gentle."
                 “Buddy!" Jack cried. “You’re here!"
                 “Sure
I am," Buddy said. “How you doin', Dad?"
                 Jack
embraced his friend, holding tight. Buddy returned the embrace but looked over
Jack's shoulder to grin at Marcia, who watched with some uncertainty, not
exactly sure what was going on here.
                 It
was Buddy who ended the clinch at last, saying, “Let me breathe, Dad."
                 “Oh,
sure, Buddy, sure!" Turning to Marcia, grinning in delight, holding Buddy's
elbow, Jack said, “Marcia, this is my oldest friend in the whole world, Buddy
Pal. We grew up together."
                 “That's
nice," Marcia said.
                 “Buddy,"
Jack said, pride and pleasure in his every atom, “this is Marcia Callahan, my
co-star in the show."
                 “I
recognized her from the pictures out front," Buddy said. Grinning at
Marcia, looking her up and down, he said, “In person, you don't have too much
on top, do you?"
                 “On top of what?" Marcia asked him.
                 They'd
left the dressing room door open, and now George Castleberry appeared in the
doorway, melting face in a loving smile at first, but then becoming immediately
irritable as he looked around the room. “Well," he said. “A crowd."
                 “I’m
just going, George," Marcia said.
                 But
George's mood had changed again; he gazed with amused pleasure on Buddy in his
marine uniform, saying, “Be still, my heart. Is that real ?”
                 “Sure
is," Buddy told him. “Just got out of the marines two
days ago. Don’t have my civvies yet."
                 “Well,
never change, that's my advice," George told him.
                 Turning
to Jack, Buddy said, “In fact, Dad, that's why I came by. If you could tide me
over . . ."
                 “Oh,
sure, Buddy," Jack said, his smile suddenly nervous, uneasy. “How much do
you need?"
                 “A hundred or so."
                 “No problem, Buddy," Jack said. Taking his wallet from his
hip pocket, his movements and expressions awkward and clumsy, he made
introductions while counting money into Buddy's waiting palm: "George
Castleberry, our playwright, I'd like you to meet my old friend Buddy
Pal."
                 Dryly,
Marcia said, "They grew each other up together."
                 "Doll,
it's