Cadillac Jack by Larry McMurtry

Author:Larry McMurtry [McMurtry, Larry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Westerns, Humour
ISBN: 9781439129005
Google: HAF7y98xzesC
Publisher: Simon and Schuster
Published: 2010-05-31T12:00:00+00:00

Chapter V

"Did George ever break your heart?" I asked Cindy, the minute we were inside her door. Unfortunately, I was developing a curiosity about her past.

Cindy looked at me as if I were only slightly less dumb than the Pakistani taxi driver.

"Naw," she said.

She was looking intensely beautiful. She had looked great at the party, but now she looked subtly better. Something had happened to elevate her a notch or two, beauty-wise.

I knew enough about beautiful women to know that when that happens their prospects have changed. A new and better future suggests itself, causing their already excellent cells to radiate at an even higher level.

That must have happened to Cindy. Deep down inside her, some prospect was throbbing. Even as I watched it was being weighed on the scales of her instincts. That was why she looked so detached. I remembered that she had been seated by Spud Breyfogle at Oblivia's.

She went upstairs without another word. Her new mood left me out to such an extent that I felt a little hesitant about even following her up to the bedroom. I was no stranger to such occasions. Often I had temporarily ceased to have an existence in the consciousness of a particular woman. One minute they're talking to you, the next minute you could just as well be in Tibet, where they're concerned. Sometimes you fade back in in a few minutes, other times it might take months.

Once I had followed Coffee into the bedroom, when she was in such a mood, and when she looked around and saw me sitting on the bed taking my boots off she was as shocked as if I had tried to rape her.

The only way to determine Cindy's attitude, in such a situation, was to go on upstairs, so I did. She had already washed her face, and she came out of the bathroom with her nightgown in her hand. She was neither hostile nor welcoming. She behaved as if she were alone, yet she never registered the slightest objection to my presence.

"Do you want me to leave?" I asked, just to be sure.

Cindy looked at me curiously. She had put on her nightgown.

"Why would I want you to leave?" she asked.

"I have no idea," I said.

"You're really goofy," she said, turning down the covers.

I sat down on the bed and took off" my boots.

"Brush your teeth," Cindy said.

When I came to bed, Cindy took my hand. She liked to hold hands at night. It allowed her to be sure that somebody was there. We lay side by side, holding hands. There was just enough light from the streetlight that I could see her profile. Her eyes were wide open. While she was holding my hand she was thinking about whatever it was that had happened at the party—the thing that had detached her, and elevated her, beauty-wise.

"I think Spud wants to go out with me," she said.

I felt touched. She had actually spoken her mind to me. It seemed a considerable act of trust, all things considered.

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