live with it until she died of it, and she'd never had to use the gun.
I didn't know what became of the gun. I suppose it sat on a shelf in her closet, snug in the blue Kangaroo fanny pack in which I'd delivered it. I suppose somebody found it when they went through her effects, and I had not the slightest idea what might have become of it since.
"They ain't hard to find," he went on. "All those Korean dudes, got them little stores, tables out front full of sunglasses and baseball caps? They all got Kangaroos. Set you back ten, fifteen dollars, few dollars more if you go for all leather. How much you have to pay for that shoulder rig?"
"More than ten or fifteen dollars."
"Kangaroo wouldn't spoil the line of your jacket. Wouldn't need to be wearin' a jacket, far as that goes."
"I probably won't need the gun at all," I said. "But if I do I won't want to screw around with a zipper."
"You sayin' that's not how Quick Draw McGraw does it."
"Right."
"What a lot of the dudes do is leave the zipper open. That looks sort of cool anyway."
"Like wearing sneakers with the laces untied."
"Sort of like that, 'cept you ain't likely to trip over your Kangaroos. Things turn tense, you just reach in your hand and there you are." He rolled his eyes. "But I be wastin' my breath, Beth, on account of you ain't about to get no Kangaroo, are you?"
"I guess not," I said. "I guess I'm just not a Kangaroo kind of guy."
I went back and watched some more football, changing channels whenever they went to a commercial and not really keeping track of any of the games. A little before six I turned off the TV and walked down to Elaine's shop. elaine mardell, the sign above the window says, and the shop within is a good reflection of the proprietor- folk art and antiques, paintings she's salvaged from thrift shops and rummage sales, and the oils and drawings of a few contemporary artists she's discovered. She has an artist's eye, and spotted the gun instantly.
"Oho," she said. "Is that what I think it is? Or are you just glad to see me?"
"Both."
She reached to unbutton the jacket. "It's less obvious that way," she said.
"Until it opens up and becomes a lot more obvious."
"Oh, right. I didn't think of that."
"TJ was pushing hard for a Kangaroo."
"Just your style."
"That's what I told him."
"This is a nice surprise," she said. "I was just getting ready to close up."
"And I was, hoping to take you out to dinner."
"Hmmm. I want to go home and wash up first."
"I figured you might."
"And change clothes."
"That too."
Heading up Ninth, she said, "Since we're going home anyway, why don't I cook something?"
"In this heat?"
"It's not that hot, and it'll be a cool evening. In fact it might rain."
"It doesn't feel like rain."
"The radio said it might. Anyway, it's not hot in our apartment. I kind of feel like pasta and a salad."
"You'd be surprised how many restaurants can fix that for you."
"No better than I can fix it myself."
"Well, if you insist," I said. "But I was leaning toward Armstrong's or Paris Green, and afterward we could go down to the Village and hear some music."
"Oh."
"Now there's enthusiasm."
"Well, what I was thinking," she said, "was pasta and a salad at home, to be followed by a double feature on the VCR." She patted her handbag. "Michael Collins and The English Patient. Romance and violence, in whichever order we decide."
"A quiet evening at home," I said.
"He said, barely able to contain his excitement. What's wrong with a quiet evening at home?"
"Nothing."
"And we missed both of these movies, and we've been promising ourselves we'd see them."
"True enough," I said.
We left it at that until we hit the lobby of our building. Then I said, "We're both overreacting, aren't we? You don't want me to leave the house."
"And you want to prove the bastards can't keep you from doing anything you want to do."
"Whether or not I really want to do it. One thing you forgot to mention is it's Saturday night, and anyplace we
I didn't know what became of the gun. I suppose it sat on a shelf in her closet, snug in the blue Kangaroo fanny pack in which I'd delivered it. I suppose somebody found it when they went through her effects, and I had not the slightest idea what might have become of it since.
"They ain't hard to find," he went on. "All those Korean dudes, got them little stores, tables out front full of sunglasses and baseball caps? They all got Kangaroos. Set you back ten, fifteen dollars, few dollars more if you go for all leather. How much you have to pay for that shoulder rig?"
"More than ten or fifteen dollars."
"Kangaroo wouldn't spoil the line of your jacket. Wouldn't need to be wearin' a jacket, far as that goes."
"I probably won't need the gun at all," I said. "But if I do I won't want to screw around with a zipper."
"You sayin' that's not how Quick Draw McGraw does it."
"Right."
"What a lot of the dudes do is leave the zipper open. That looks sort of cool anyway."
"Like wearing sneakers with the laces untied."
"Sort of like that, 'cept you ain't likely to trip over your Kangaroos. Things turn tense, you just reach in your hand and there you are." He rolled his eyes. "But I be wastin' my breath, Beth, on account of you ain't about to get no Kangaroo, are you?"
"I guess not," I said. "I guess I'm just not a Kangaroo kind of guy."
I went back and watched some more football, changing channels whenever they went to a commercial and not really keeping track of any of the games. A little before six I turned off the TV and walked down to Elaine's shop. elaine mardell, the sign above the window says, and the shop within is a good reflection of the proprietor- folk art and antiques, paintings she's salvaged from thrift shops and rummage sales, and the oils and drawings of a few contemporary artists she's discovered. She has an artist's eye, and spotted the gun instantly.
"Oho," she said. "Is that what I think it is? Or are you just glad to see me?"
"Both."
She reached to unbutton the jacket. "It's less obvious that way," she said.
"Until it opens up and becomes a lot more obvious."
"Oh, right. I didn't think of that."
"TJ was pushing hard for a Kangaroo."
"Just your style."
"That's what I told him."
"This is a nice surprise," she said. "I was just getting ready to close up."
"And I was, hoping to take you out to dinner."
"Hmmm. I want to go home and wash up first."
"I figured you might."
"And change clothes."
"That too."
Heading up Ninth, she said, "Since we're going home anyway, why don't I cook something?"
"In this heat?"
"It's not that hot, and it'll be a cool evening. In fact it might rain."
"It doesn't feel like rain."
"The radio said it might. Anyway, it's not hot in our apartment. I kind of feel like pasta and a salad."
"You'd be surprised how many restaurants can fix that for you."
"No better than I can fix it myself."
"Well, if you insist," I said. "But I was leaning toward Armstrong's or Paris Green, and afterward we could go down to the Village and hear some music."
"Oh."
"Now there's enthusiasm."
"Well, what I was thinking," she said, "was pasta and a salad at home, to be followed by a double feature on the VCR." She patted her handbag. "Michael Collins and The English Patient. Romance and violence, in whichever order we decide."
"A quiet evening at home," I said.
"He said, barely able to contain his excitement. What's wrong with a quiet evening at home?"
"Nothing."
"And we missed both of these movies, and we've been promising ourselves we'd see them."
"True enough," I said.
We left it at that until we hit the lobby of our building. Then I said, "We're both overreacting, aren't we? You don't want me to leave the house."
"And you want to prove the bastards can't keep you from doing anything you want to do."
"Whether or not I really want to do it. One thing you forgot to mention is it's Saturday night, and anyplace we
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