Free Midnight Cowboy by James Leo Herlihy

right here pulling at my elbow, I’d just as leave grab onto it, but I, uh, don’t want you to go to no trouble.” And then, hopefully, he added: “Unless you want one, too.”
     
    Perry said, “No.”
     
    “Well then, to the devil with it—uhm, unless you mean they’s something close
by
. Where it wouldn’t be too much trouble. And we could just, uh—”
     
    Perry rose. “Come on.”
     
    He started to hand the cashier a five-dollar bill but Joe tore it from his hand and gave the woman a ten. Then he took the five and pushed it into Perry’s hip pocket. Perry smiled and said nothing.
     
    On the edge of the parking lot was an outdoor telephone booth. Perry left the door open. Joe leaned against the side of the booth, listening. After a moment of dialing and waiting, Perry said:
     
    “Juanita? This is Perry.
Perry!
That’s right. Now listen, Juanita, this is what I want you to do for me. Juanita, don’t talk so loud, you’re hurting my ear. Hold the phone away from you, you’re blasting me. Now listen, is Dolores there? No, I don’t want to talk to her. You just wake her up, Juanita. I said,
wake her up!
I’m bringing someone nice for her, a very handsome young—Keep still, Juanita, just listen. Wake her up and give her a good bath, and we’ll be around in about half an hour.”
     
    He hung up. Joe was standing there with his mouth open, shaking his head back and forth slowly, unable truly to grasp his good fortune. He was like a child to whom a guardian angel has chosen to make a material appearance. “Perry, you goddam sombitchl” he said, his voice trembling with love.
     
    In the car, on the freeway, Perry said, “You know, Joe, you’ve wrecked my evening.”
     
    Joe was alarmed. “What? What’d I do?”
     
    “Well, you see, a great deal of my pleasure comes from spending Marvin’s money on other people. And you wouldn’t let me pick up that tab back there.”
     
    Joe laughed, relieved.
     
    “No,” Perry said, “I’m serious. Don’t ever do that again.”
     
    “Say, Perry, is that uh, Marvin fella, is he some relative or other?”
     
    “Oh no, he’s just my employer. I’m employed by Marvin.”
     
    “Oh! Oh, I see. He’s your
boss.”
For a moment this seemed to clear the matter up. But as Joe reviewed in his mind the scene that had taken place between the two, he realized this new information only increased his confusion. “Boss, huh?”
     
    “Yes, that’s right. I’m employed by Marvin to perform a highly specialized service. I’m supposed to remind him how loathsome he is, and my remuneration is based upon the extent to which I succeed. I held my first such position in the East some years ago, and I learned something invaluable. I learned to look beneath what people say they want and give them what they’re really screaming for under their breath.
     
    “Light this for me, will you?” He handed Joe a cigarette. Joe leaned forward, huddling against the windshield, and lighted the cigarette. He placed it between Perry’s lips. Perry puffed on it, then removed it from his mouth and continued to speak:
     
    “For instance, you’ll find that people who have the most to say about their great appetite for tenderness are really just asking for terror. Only they don’t quite know how to pronounce it, I suppose. I’m not talking about people who simply want tenderness and shut up about it. I’m talking about the ones that babble about it endlessly. You can bet that any form of kindness, or even just decent treatment, would make them sick. On the other hand, you can’t really give them straight terror either, even though they worship it, because they’re too chickenhearted to take what they want. You learn to be terribly cool, and measure everything out with teaspoons, and call it by other names.
     
    “Nothing can be simply what it is. Even while they’re groveling in full horror, they have to think it’s love. So you touch them on the head occasionally. But