Ladies' Man Read Online Free PDF Page A

were visitors at the zoo. That made me berserk. I felt like jumping up on the bar and announcing that the travesty was canceled. That everybody in that goddamn room should put down their cross. That there was a charter bus arriving in twenty minutes and everybody was going . on a pleasure trip, lunch included, so let's blow this joint.
    I made my way over to La Donna. I thought it would be good for her to talk to the guitar girl. I passed the black kid from the line. He wore a loud three-piece plaid suit with sleeves that were too long. They came" down almost to his knuckles. He had an expensive stitched leather bag over his shoulder and constantly adjusted his gold-rimmed aviators. He was still talking to the chubby teen-ager.
    "You know, in all honesty, I can't really call myself an
amateur
per se."
    "Number eight!"
    Chuck Steak plowed through the bar crowd to the curtain, holding his card high in the air.
    "You know, in all honesty, I can't really call myself an
amateur
per se," the black kid repeated; he lit a cigarette and smoked it clumsily, holding it down by the webbing between his fingers and bringing his whole hand to his mouth when he took a puff.
    "Who's your friend?" I nudged La Donna. She glanced down at the girl as if noticing her for the first time. With the guitar case between her knees and the blood drained from her face she looked like she was waiting for the cattle car.
    "Now"—the black kid punctuated his bullshit with a cigarette—"if you've ever studied Mathis' style, he just gets up onstage and runs his repertoire. "He's not very comfortable with trying to personally
relate
to his audience."
    The fat kid shook his head automatically, but his brains were all over the floor.
    "Now
me
on the other hand"—he touched all ten fingertips to" his vest—"I like to
rap
to my audience, you know, set up a rapport."
    "Shit," La Donna hissed.
    "Hey, relax!"
    "I hate fuckin' triteness, fuckin' phonies."
    The black kid overheard her. His face collapsed for a second but instantaneously recovered as if he had decided she was referring to somebody else.
    "C'mon." I moved La Donna back to our barstools.
    The big, tall, knuckled-headed spade stood in front of us, about six-five in a sky blue three-piece suit, black shirt, black cowboy hat, red tie and a red cocktail napkin stuffed into his breast pocket like a handkerchief. He wore the thickest glasses I've ever seen and he looked as dumb and mean as a dinosaur. He had spent the last hour drifting from cluster to cluster saying stupid warlike things, totally misunderstanding whatever people said to him in response and in general making the whole room squirm. He faced both of us, looking like he couldn't decide whether to kill me and rape her or rape me and kill her.
    "Wha's yo name?" He squinted at La Donna, mouth open a good inch and a half. La Donna refused to look at him.
    "Her name's Linda," I said. It took this big dumb bastard a good five seconds to turn his head to me. "Ah dint
as"
you."
    "Well, she got to save her voice now." I smiled. He chewed that one over awhile, then returned his gaze to her.
    "You a singer?" He examined her like King Kong checking out Fay Wray.
    "Yeah, she's a singer. I'm a singer too. Are you a singer?"
    He just stared at me. I must have supplied too much information too fast. If he touched her I would have smashed my drink in his glasses.
    "How come you won't talk to me? You afraid a black mayn?"
    La Donna threw her eyes and shook her head sadly while still looking away.
    "She's afraid of everything. Her mother got scared by an encyclopedia when she was pregnant." I grabbed his hand and shook it heartily. "Listen, I just wanna wish you the best of luck tonight. I'm sure you're gonna kill 'em out there." He stared down at the handshake like he couldn't understand how his hand got between mine. I have big motherfucking strong hands, bigger than his, and I gave an extra firm squeeze. When I let go he moved in slow motion toward La