| OCR Text |
Show 37 of the shadowed frame and moving toward him where he stood, braced on :the bottom concrete step; moving sympathetically, sexually; moving like a woman, not a girl. Fogarty backed off, held her but not tightly. Then he carefully pulled down her hands from his neck to the space he was creating between their bodies. Sparkle turned down her mouth. Fogarty hoped, secretly, that he had hurt her. "Where are you going? Tell me." "I told you I was working on it." She appeared hurt; at least she was pouting. "I should get some tonight," she said. "Money?" "Money." Fogarty thought about it, the likelihood of it. Of course all things were possible. "How?" he said. "Can't tell you." Won't, he thought. But he didn't push; he wouldn't push; he wasn't going to push. "When?" he said. "Tonight, I told you." "When will you be back?" "Why?" "If you bring some money by midnight maybe I wouldn't have to give you the eviction notice." I could call Jackson in the morning, he was thinking. "Then I'll be back," she said. "By midnight." Fogarty thought about it. "All right." He would dare to be encouraged. "I'll be home." |
