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Show 168 They agreed to meet at an uptown oyster bar at twelve-thirty. Hunt caught the wrong subway and was late. He could see Suskind in a booth, gesturing with thick hands to a tall man with black curly hair and a blue fisherman's sweater. "Hunt!" Suskind shouted when he saw Hunt's approach; "Hunt . . ." Suskind laughed, introduced: "Reuben Garrison!" The tall delicately boned man in the blue fisherman's sweater extended his hand. "Cletus Marion," he said: "I'm in love with your work." Hunt sat down. He felt queerly unfocused, perhaps from hurrying. "What're you drinking?!" Suskind asked him. "They have a Dubonet-and-lime thing which is marvellous," Cletus Marion/ Reuben Garrison said. "Scotch," Hunt said. "Water." "Sit right here! I'll get it! You look sensational!" And Suskind slid out, clamped Hunt once on the shoulder and strode across to the bar. "He's a teddybear," Reuben Marion said. Hunt blinked. "What?" he asked. "Oh - Suskind - yeah; he's a character." "Well, are you just on pins?" Cletus Garrison asked Hunt. "Am I . . .?" Hunt wondered why his brain felt astigmatic. Suskind returned with Hunt's scotch and water. "Double!" he announced and clamped him again. "Double trouble!" "Double trouble," Hunt repeated and raised his glass, a small salute of gratitude. He drank. |