Free King Cole by W.R. Burnett Page B

enough to be your daughter, Lou.”
    “Not quite.”
    “Say,” said the girl, “I don’t like to be stared at. How come you don’t introduce me to people, Mr. Upham?”
    Gregg, very drunk, bowed low and almost fell over.
    “People meet Kitten Reese. Kitten, meet everybody. Now that’s settled. Well, you people, what do you say? Got anything to beat her? She’d be Miss Ohio overnight.”
    The girl laughed.
    “Oh, no, I wouldn’t. I went into one of them contests at Olentangy Park. I didn’t get to first base.”
    “The other girls must have had friends.”
    “No,” said the girl, seriously; “I’m too short. My legs aren’t long enough. I don’t look good in a bathing suit.”
    “That’s what you think,” said Lou Edwards.
    “Say, who is that guy?”
    “Don’t mind him,” said Read.
    “Do I win my bet?” cried Gregg.
    “What bet? Nobody bet.”
    There was a prolonged uproar. Read turned and sat down on the big red lounge. He lit a cigarette. The girl hesitated, then came to sit with him.
    “Can I have one?”
    Read offered her his pack. She took a cigarette and he held the match for her. Noticing that his hand was shaking, she held it steady, then laughed. ”You’re nervous.”
    “A little.”
    She glanced about her hurriedly; everybody was arguing; nobody was paying any attention to her except Ina Dodson, who was glaring.
    “Really,” she said, “are these the kind of people you run around with, Governor?”
    “Not entirely.”
    “Oh, I get it. Sort of cutting loose.”
    Read laughed.
    “Yes, I guess so. Is your name really Kitten?”
    “No, but that’s what everybody calls me. My name’s Mary. It’s too simple; I don’t like it. I used to call myself Ramona, but, I don’t know, I kind of got tired of that.”
    “I say you did,” cried Gregg above the tumult. “Oh, hell. I might have known you’d all welsh. All right. Turn on the music. Let’s dance. Bobby, Bobby! More drinks.” He came over to the lounge. ”Don’t waste your time with that ascetic, middle-aged man, Kitten. Dance with me.”
    “No. I want to sit here. I’m tired. I have been on my feet all evening. Say, what do I have to do to earn that ten?”
    “Nothing, honey. Just be yourself.”
    Gregg glanced from Read to Kitten, then he shrugged and began to dance with Ina, who was very very nice to him and danced cheek to cheek whenever she thought Read was looking.
    “Say,” said Kitten, leaning toward Read, “that Mr. Upham; is he nuts?”
    “No. Drunk. He thinks you’re the best-looking girl in the city. That’s why he brought you up here.”
    “He is nuts.”

THREE: SATURDAY

I
    Read glanced at his watch, then started . A quarter to three! Getting up, he found that he was quite drunk and that the room swayed a little. Georgia Carter was sleeping on the divan with an arm flung across her face; Pat Garrison was sitting nearby, nodding in a chair, trying to pretend that he was still enjoying the party. The rest, with the exception of Kitten, were still dancing, laughing and talking. Kitten had been sitting on the lounge with Read. She had danced once with Gregg and once with Read, but had refused to dance with the other men. Read could see that she did not approve of these people at all; and this seemed very funny to him.
    He put down his glass, was pushed aside by Gregg, who was dancing with Ina; then he laughed and went back to the lounge.
    “I’ve got to go,” he said.
    She jumped up.
    “Me, too. Will it be all right with Mr. Upham?”
    “Did you get your money?”
    “Oh, yes.”
    “Then you haven’t anything to worry about.”
    “Well, gee; it’s nearly three. How will I get home? I just won’t ride one of them owl cars with the drunks.”
    Read hesitated. He knew what he should do; go home; forget about Kitten Reese, who was just a commonplace little girl after all. He had a hard three days ahead of him; he needed rest.
    “Let Gregg get a taxi for