Nobody's Angel Read Online Free PDF Page A

rarely thought of drinking, except as a waste of time and money. But then a night like this would come along and the lure of the whiskey would be irresistible. Just holding the glass in my hand, swirling the ice around the rim, seemed to relieve some tension.
    I carried the glass to the living room and sat in the dark, my feet resting on the window ledge. In a while the day people would start lining up at the corner bus stop. I
    would hear air brakes hiss, and then a Chicago Transit Authority bus would shriek to a stop and they would all climb aboard, and the day would officially begin.
    And then, full morning with the rest of the world wide awake, it would be time to pull down the shades and go to sleep.
    I'd been a day person once. I'd had a good job, a house on a quiet, tree-lined street, a family. Now I usually managed to sleep through those too-bright hours.
    At 5:15 the clock radio went off in Betty Cunningham's apartment. A while later, I could hear her on the other side of our common wall, getting ready for work.
    When she'd moved in, three years before, we'd spent about two months as full-time lovers. But we'd been doomed from the start. She worked days, as an assembler in an electronics factory, and I drove nights, and neither one of us thought the other worth changing shifts for.
    Betty was a few months older than I was, a Kentucky transplant who wore tons of makeup, chain-smoked Virginia Slims and still managed to be overweight. And, let's be honest, I wasn't any prize.
    She'd had a few boyfriends since my time but none had lasted even as long as I had, so I could always console myself that I wasn't the worst of the lot.
    Now, when Betty didn't have anything going on, we'd get together Sunday mornings after I got off work.
    We'd usually have breakfast, and then spend some time in her bedroom. Irv, my dayman, never worked Sundays, so I had the cab all day. If it was nice we'd take a ride along the lakefront, maybe up through the North Shore to gaze at the homes of the rich. Or we'd see a movie, or have an early dinner somewhere, or just lie around napping and watching TV.
    We seldom saw each other during the week. But Betty had the strange knack of knowing when I was awake in the morning. I could be sitting absolutely still at the
    window and she'd knock lightly at the door. But she never knocked once I was in the bedroom.
    Today, I stopped in the kitchen on the way to the door and added a splash of whiskey.
    Betty looked at the glass, took a whiff of the air, then a drag on her cigarette. She blew a long stream of smoke my way. I held the glass up in a toast.
    "Christ, what time did you get home?" She leaned against the hallway wall.
    "About three," I admitted.
    "Slow night?"
    I nodded.
    "You should have hollered." She smiled.
    I shrugged and she rewarded me with another stream of cigarette smoke.
    "I really wouldn't mind sometimes." She fluttered her eyelashes and faked a blush and that was more than enough for me.
    "Come on," I said, and I tried to pull her inside, but she danced away and wagged a finger at me.
    "Time to catch my bus."
    It was the same old story. I always wanted her when she was right there in front of me. But I barely thought about her when she wasn't around.
    Betty waved and started away, then stopped and turned back. "Eddie, there was something on the radio. They said another cabdriver "
    "Some suburban driver." I nodded. "I saw it in the paper."
    "See you Sunday." She blew a final stream of smoke my way.
    "Sunday," I said, and I watched her walk down the hall. She always looked great in jeans.
    I went back to the window and watched her sprint for the bus. I sat there sipping the whiskey and then, hours after the bus had gone, I picked up the phone and dialed.
    The line echoed back two thousand miles, then the phone began to ring. This was a call I'd been making every few months for years. I never talked to anybody. Usually an answering machine picked up. It was just a small way of keeping in