... ..the reach ....August 21, 2007   Without warning, the reeded-glass door swung open as Elliott Longstreet adjusted his damp package. "Goddamnit, Lizzy.  Don't you ever knock?" "Not unless it's knocking knees, honey.  Your three o'clock cancelled and I'm going home." Outside his office window, the Barq's thermometer registered ninety-seven degrees.  The AC had long ago cried uncle.  Elliott's secretary, Lizzy Caldwell, stood in the doorway swishing her white linen skirt to and fro.  The motion stirred a breeze that cooled her moist thighs.  Elliott thought of Marilyn Monroe standing over the sidewalk grate. "When did Sal cancel the appointment?  Just now?" Lizzy lit a cigarette and blew smoke into the bright, still air.  "Well, we got the cancellation call from his witless man-servant just now.  But, technically, I guess you could say Sal Maggio cancelled shortly after midnight when he blew his own brains out in his gaudy-ass bathroom." Elliott dropped into the chair behind his desk and opened the bottom drawer.  The reach to that drawer triggered in Lizzy a Pavlovian response.  It was drinking time.  "What, exactly, did Johnnie Hubcap have to say?"  Elliott put two short glasses on the desk and poured three lady-fingers of Glenlivet into each.  Lizzy exhaled blue smoke and gulped the better part of her scotch.  "There wasn't no 'exactly' to it, Elliott.  Johnnie Hubcap is a moron and blubbering don't exactly help his diction and syntax, if you know what I mean." Elliott Longstreet studied her face.  For a moment, he forgot about Sal and wondered why it was that Lizzy, a well-read, articulate woman, refused to make peace between her subjects and verbs whenever she drank.  previous..|..current..|..archives..|..3d quarter index..|..next

Copyrght © 2007 by the beastmaster.  All rights reserved.