King Cole by W.R. Burnett Page A

and all I could think about was going home and getting to bed. Gee, I didn’t want to go with Mr. Upham. I didn’t trust him. But, anyway, I can take care of myself. I got to, working around a hotel with all them wise traveling salesmen. But I’m glad I went. I never would have met you.”
    “Oh, it’s nothing meeting me.” Read was enjoying this; he wanted more.
    “Think not? Why, any girl I know would give five years of her life to be sitting here like this. Gee, I almost dropped over that day in the Massey when I found out who you were. I liked you before I found out. You just kind of walked up sort of important and I said to myself: ‘I’ll bet he’s a big shot.’ And then when I found out… gee, I almost dropped over.”
    “And asked for an autograph for your little brother.”
    “Did I? I was all excited. I haven’t got any little brother. I just wanted it for myself, I guess.”
    Read laughed. He took the girl’s hand and sat holding it. She got closer to him.
    “You know,” she said, “a couple of my girlfriends were over to my room the other morning and one of them got to telling fortunes with cards, and she told me something pretty important was going to happen to me.”
    “You believe in fortunetelling?”
    “Oh, sure. I’ve seen it come out right time after time. Like the time my sister lost her garnet ring… that was in Detroit. Anyway, she found it.”
    “Does your sister live here?”
    “No, I’m all alone. I mean, no relatives. I live with a girlfriend. Maude Anderson. She’s tall and I’m short. They call us Mutt and Jeff, people do. She’s a good kid. But she has acne.”
    “She has what?”
    “Acne. You know, pimples on her face. It’s awful. I feel sorry for her. Boys don’t like her. She’s got a real nice boyfriend now though. He’s got acne, too, so it’s all right. He works in a garage. You ought to see him drive a car. Boy, he can make one do tricks. What kind of car is this?”
    “A Cadillac.”
    “Really? First time I’ve ever ridden in one. But I’ve ridden in a Pierce. Boy I used to know had one. That’s all he had.” She laughed.
    “How old are you, Kitten?”
    “Twenty-four; nearly twenty-five.”
    “You don’t look it.”
    “I know. My father was the same. He didn’t look thirty when he died and he was almost fifty.”
    Of a sudden Read became sharply aware of her presence; a delicate scent rose from her hair; he felt her warmth through her thick coat. He drew away slightly and sat staring out at the housefronts they were passing. This was silly!
    “Why so silent? Cat got your tongue? Gee, it’s nice and cozy and warm in here.” She sat up and looked out. “Oh, we’re almost there.”
    When she sank back Read put his arm around her. She didn’t seem to notice. After a moment, she put her head on his shoulder. Read glanced uncomfortably at Barney’s broad back, wondering if he could see what was going on in the rear-view mirror.
    “Are you going to be elected?” asked Kitten.
    “I hope so.”
    “I’m going to vote for you, but everybody I know is going to vote for Mr. Fielding. Dewey says he’s a great man. Dewey is Maude’s boyfriend. I saw Mr. Fielding in the hotel the other day. Isn’t he a funny old man? He called me ‘sister’ and he tipped me a dime.”
    Bending down quickly, Read kissed her. Her lips were soft and cool and unresponsive.
    “You shouldn’t do that,” she said, dispassionately.
    “Why?”
    “’Cause you shouldn’t.”
    Read kissed her again. Her arms tightened; her lips were warm now; she returned his kiss.
    “Really you shouldn’t. Here you go, getting me kind of crazy about you, and I’ll probably never see you again. Oh, my; you smell of alcohol. Why do you drink? I never drink. I hate drinking. A girl’s a fool to drink with men. That’s the way a lot of them get into jams.”
    “I don’t drink much.”
    They were kissing again. She began lightly to caress his