the Big Bounce (1969) by Elmore - Jack Ryan 0 Leonard Page A

colors far down the beach.
    If Ray Ritchie's beach house was in that direction, she was going home. If it was the other way, she'd be back. He thought about her looking at him in the bar and he thought about what Mr. Majestyk had said, about Ray Ritchie keeping her. He had never known a girl who lived with somebody. He knew all kinds of girls, but not one like that. She should have blond hair and great big jugs and be taller and older and wear high heels. And he remembered Mr. Majestyk saying, How old do they have to be? He wondered how old she was and where she was from and where she had met Ray Ritchie and how he had got her to live with him, how he had put it when he asked her.
    He would say something to her if she came back, but he couldn't think of what to say and began smoothing the sand again with the rake.
    Just relax, he told himself. What's the matter with you? It was funny, he knew she was going to come back. It didn't surprise him at all to see her, finally, a spot of yellow in the distance, coming slowly, taking forever, but he still couldn't think of anything. He said in his mind, Hi, how you doing? He said, Well, look who's here. He said, Hey, where you going? He said to himself, For Christ sake, cut it out.
    Ryan moved closer to the water and started raking the sand, smoothing it, not looking at the girl but still seeing her, the slim dark legs and long hair.
    He timed it right, straightening up when she was only a few yards off, to lean on the rake like a spearman.
    She looked at him, then, unhurriedly, away from him. Ryan waited until she was past, so she would have to turn around.
    Hey.
    She took two or three more steps before turning half around slowly, legs apart, and looked at him.
    I've been wanting to ask you something, Ryan said. He gave her time to say what?
    But she didn't. She waited.
    And finally Ryan said, I was wondering what you were looking at me for in the bar?
    She waited a moment longer. Are you sure I was looking at you?
    Ryan nodded. I'm sure. You think it's about time we quit fooling around?
    She smiled but barely. What's the matter with fooling around? The wind blew her hair and she brushed it from her eye, the hair slanting across her forehead, dark brown and probably brown eyes.
    I mean wasting time, Ryan said.
    I know what you mean.
    She was at ease, studying him; he hung on to the rake handle and stared back at her.
    I'm surprised to see you, Nancy said. Bob Junior doesn't scare you?
    If I want to stay around here, I guess it's up to me.
    How did you get the job?
    I don't know. The guy offered it to me.
    For the summer?
    I don't know. I guess.
    You're not too sure of much, are you?
    He stared at her, waiting for the words, and she stared back at him. He had never had trouble talking to people, especially girls, and the feeling tightened him up. He didn't like it and he thought, What are you being so nice for?
    Nancy kept watching him, not smiling or rubbing it in, but watching him. She said, Do you want to start over?
    I don't know, Ryan said.
    You could come to my house and play. She raised her arm and pointed. That way, almost a mile. White stairs and a lamppost at the top.
    I guess Mr. Ritchie's not here.
    Nope.
    Who's there with you? I mean, a maid or something?
    Nobody.
    Don't you get scared, alone?
    She shook her head, touching her hair again. I like it.
    What do you do?
    Different things.
    Like what?
    Come tonight and find out.
    I don't know.
    He watched her shrug and turn away. She was expecting him to say something. He was sure she was waiting for it and that was good. He watched her walk off waiting for it, not able to look back now. They could shake their tail and expect the guy to sit up, but he had done enough sitting up for one day. She'd come by this afternoon or tomorrow, same time, same station. So why get excited? Right?
    You're damn right, Ryan thought.
    Chapter 7
    ONCE WHEN JACK RYAN WAS THIRTEEN, he hung from the roof of their apartment building, four stories