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Show •209 than just a girl all those months when I cruised up and down the dark canyons and the boulevards of L.A. looking into faces, faces, faces, without luck. Fancy woke up from her trance first and gave me a rough shove off the bed. "You don't have to go all moony-eyed over that girl. I had some experiences before I met you too, you son of a bitch." She leaned over the side of the bed and looked down at me. "Cecil asked me out that night when we had dinner with him and Hubert and Bobbie. What do you think of that?" "What did you say to him?" "I told him no." "They why should I get upset? Cecil probably didn't mean any harm." "You son of a bitch," she said. She threw the brass lamp at my head; I ducked but one corner of it hit me on the ear anyway. I leaped up fighting mad and jumped on top of her. The bed gave a great creak and jingle; Fancy punched me in the eye and I slapped her. She had farm-girl muscles but I outweighed her by thirty pounds. On the other hand I fought with restraint while she was a kill-crazy woman as soon as she got angry. I ducked another roundhouse and grappled with her; we rolled off on the floor and I cracked my elbow. The bedside table fell over and a pot of ivy broke. I sat on Fancy's stomach and pinned her wrists. |