The Ten O'Clock People by Stephen King

Author:Stephen King [King, Stephen]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

3

The foyer and the bookstore beyond it were dark; the light—along with a murmur of voices—was filtering up the steep staircase to their left.

“Well,” Duke said, “this is the place. To quote the Dead, what a long strange trip it’s been, right?”

“You better believe it,” Pearson agreed. “Is Kate a Ten O’Clock Person?”

“The owner? Nope. I only met her twice, but I have an idea she’s a total non-smoker. This place was Robbie’s idea. As far as Kate knows, we’re The Boston Society of Hardboiled Yeggs.”

Pearson raised his eyebrows. “Say again?”

“A small group of loyal fans that meets every week or so to discuss the works of Raymond Chandler, Dashiell Hammett, Ross Macdonald, people like that. If you haven’t read any of those guys, you probably ought to. It never hurts to be safe. It’s not that hard; some of them are actually pretty good.”

They descended with Duke in the lead—the staircase was too narrow for them to walk abreast—and passed through an open doorway into a well-lit, low-ceilinged basement room that probably ran the length of the converted frame house above. About thirty folding chairs had been set up, and an easel covered with a blue cloth had been placed before them. Beyond the easel were stacked shipping cartons from various publishers. Pearson was amused to see a framed picture on the left-hand wall, with a sign reading DASHIELL HAMMETT: ALL HAIL OUR FEARLESS LEADER beneath it.

“Duke?” a woman asked from Pearson’s left. “Thank God—I thought something had happened to you.”

She was someone else Pearson recognized: the serious-looking young woman with the thick glasses and long, straight black hair. Tonight she looked a lot less serious in a pair of tight faded jeans and a Georgetown University tee-shirt beneath which she was clearly braless. And Pearson had an idea that if Duke’s wife ever saw the way this young woman was looking at her husband, she would probably drag Duke out of the basement of Kate’s by the ear, and never mind all the batpeople in the world.

“I’m fine, darlin,” he said. “I was bringing along another convert to the Church of the Fucked-Up Bat, that’s all. Janet Brightwood, Brandon Pearson.”

Brandon shook her hand, thinking: You’re the one who kept sneezing.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Brandon,” she said, and then went back to smiling at Duke, who looked a little embarrassed at the intensity of her gaze. “Want to go for coffee after?” she asked him.

“Well… we’ll see, darlin. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said, and her smile said she’d wait three years to go out for coffee with Duke, if that was the way Duke wanted it.

What am I doing here? Pearson suddenly asked himself. This is totally insane … like an A.A. meeting in a psycho ward.

The members of the Church of the Fucked-Up Bat were taking ashtrays from a stack on one of the book cartons and lighting up with obvious relish as they took their seats. Pearson estimated that there were going to be few if any folding chairs left over when everyone had gotten settled.

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