Man, Woman and Child Read Online Free PDF Page B

myself. I'm shy. I lack your amazing charm and wit. I'm not competitive. . . ."
    ''In other words, you're scared."
    "No, Bern. In those very words. I am scared."
    And he buried himself once again in numerical analysis. Bemie simply stood there.
    "Beckwith ..."
    "Bernie, go back to the mixer. Go get yourself blue balls. Just let me grind in ignoble peace."
    "Beckwith, I'm gonna help you."
    ''Come on. You can't even help yourself."
    *'I have a secret weapon. Bob."
    *'Then you use it."
    "I can't. I'm too short."
    Bob looked up. Bemie had snared his interest.
    "Willya come if I lend you my secret weapon? Willy a, willy a, willya?"
    Bob once again sat up.
    "What is it, Bern?"
    "Willya come? Willya?"
    "Okay, okay. The evening's shot anyway. I might as well get a free beer."
    Bernie did not argue. The important thing was that he had persuaded Bob to drop his customary reticence and make the social scene. Who knows— with the secret weapon he might even score.
    "I'll take a shower/' Bob said, growing steadily more nervous.
    "You took one after dinner, schmuck. Come on— we've only got an hour before the stuff is trucked back to Poughkeepsie."
    "Can I at least shave?"
    "Beckwith, you got about as much hair as a canned peach. Just put on the weapon and we'll enter the fray."

    Bob sighed. "All right. Where is it?"
    Bernie's eyes flashed with excitement.
    "It's hanging in my closet. But shake ass."
    Now he was hopping up and down.
    Bob got his college blazer, combed his hair and washed his face. Then, after spilling Old Spice in every conceivable place, he reentered the living room, where Bemie stood like a midget colossus on the coffee table, holding ... an article of apparel.
    "That's it?" Bob frowned.
    "Do you know what this is, Beckwith? Do you know, do you know?"
    "Yeah. A goddamn tie"
    "—which signifies that the wearer has won a varsity Y in footbdir
    "But I haven't," Bob protested.
    "I have," Bernie said.
    "You're the manager, Bern."
    "Does it say that anywhere on the tie? Does it, does it, does it?"
    "Bernie, I am a hundred-and-forty-five-pound weakling."
    "But you're six one, Beckwith. Put two or three sweaters on under your jacket and you could be a tight end. Believe me, the girls know a football tie when they see one. It turns them on. They almost drop their pants right there."
    "Bemie, forget it."
    "Come on, Beckwith. This is your big chance."
    "You ain't nothin' but a hound dog . . ." It was pitch black, and the deafening sounds of Rumple and the Stiltskins shook the wooden panels of the Branford College dining hall. Bodies rocked and rolled. From either side, crowds of the opposing sexes glanced across at one another while pretending not to.

    ''Bemie, I feel like a total asshole."
    "It's just nerves, Bob. Tlie guys get 'em before every game. Christ, you look like Hercules."
    'Tm roasting in these sweaters."
    ''Oh, Beckwith, lookit all the talent," said Bernie, surveying the populous scene. "God, I'm dying from the pulchritude. If we don't score tonight, we're goddam eunuchs."
    ''Speak for yourself, Bern."
    "Hey! I see my beloved."
    "Where?"
    "There. The short and cute one. I've gotta make my move."
    And for the final time he fixed Bob's tie and sprinted off.
    Bob was now on his own. Too self-conscious to just stand there on the dance floor, he took one or two steps toward the female side. His eye now chanced upon a tall and slender girl with long blond hair. Boy, thought Bob, I wish I had the guts.
    But three Yalies were already paying court to her. No chance, thought Bob. Besides, I'm really boiling. Maybe I should head back to the room.
    "Beckwith!" someone bellowed.
    It was one of the trio romancing the young lady.
    "Yes?"
    ''What the hell is that around your scrawny neck?"
    To his horror. Bob now realized that the voice belonged to mountainous Terry Dexter, captain of the undefeated football team.
    "Where'd you get that tie?" he bellowed, then turning to the Vassar girl, "He shouldn't be wearing that tie."
    '*Why