Shout Her Lovely Name Read Online Free PDF Page A

her father would pat a barstool for her to come hop up beside him. He’d ruffle her hair, pinch her lightly on the nose while his ruddy-cheeked comrades congratulated him on his fine little girl, and Mr. Goddard, the bartender, popped open a cold grape Nehi, the treat he claimed that he kept in the cooler just for her. With Ruby by her daddy’s side, they’d all listen while Teddy recited some poem he’d composed that very morning.
     
The hours dance on dusky feet,
I learn your lips are soft and sweet.
The hours fly on silken wings,
I learn the rapture your arms bring.
The hours deepen into dawn,
The dream remains but you are gone.
     
    had printed it. He’d thought it was a foot in the door to his own byline and for about a week after it came out he was certain he’d be getting a call. Whenever the phone rang, he made her run to answer it: “Hargrove residence. Whom may I say is calling?” “Souvenir,” he’d named it and her mother had taped it to the icebox. Each time Ruby fetched him a beer or grabbed a banana, she read it. The way he’d recited the poem, his voice scraping over the final words, made her fall in love with her mysterious father. He was a man capable of rapturous thoughts.
    Her mother ripped it off one day, then wiped away the tape residue with nail polish remover so all that remained was a dull spot on the icebox she pointed to and called the truth. Ruby hadn’t understood what she meant.
    Teddy slipped his pipe from between his teeth, and his lips quivered, as if they didn’t know what to do with their new freedom. “Come on, Jewel. You’re a college girl. You earned a seat at the bar right next to your daddy.” With his brows raised in invitation and that trembling smile, his face seemed earnest, eagerly inviting. The face her mother must have fallen in love with. If Ruby had stayed in Gainesville, John Douglas’s arm might be hitched around her waist right now as they toasted the start of the weekend with a Cuba libre, everyone’s drink of choice. Surely she could have a drink before going home to her mother. No harm in one. She opened her own door and stepped from the truck, smoothing creases from her skirt, hooking her pocketbook over her arm.
    It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim light. The jukebox was still there, same as the upright piano. A couple of men hunched over beers at the long L of the bar. The far end held a wheel of cheddar with a wire cheese cutter and a jar of soda crackers. Three or four lazy flies hung over the food. The Avenue smelled of soggy bar rags, stale peanuts, and men.
    “Everyone,” her father called out. “Look at my Ruby, my jewel.” Again he tried to get her to turn around, but she pulled away and bent to wipe the sawdust off her shoes.
    Milton Goddard pretended not to believe it was her. He looked up from her leather pumps, past the paisley skirt and peasant blouse. Finally he whistled through his teeth. “Fan-cy.”
    Ruby smiled, slid onto a barstool. “Hi, Mr. Goddard.”
    Her father dropped the afternoon edition onto the bar. “Paper delivery.” He nudged Ruby. “I consider it my civic duty to edify Milton.”
    “With the oldest paperboy in the world for a daddy, you must be past drinking grape soda.”
    “Why, yes, I believe I am. My friends and I enjoy Cuba libres.” She tipped her voice up at the end, wondering if Milton knew how to make them.
    “ Why, yes? Cuba what? What kind of horseshit is that?” Her father, hiding a smile at the corners of his mouth, thunked his pipe against his palm.
    “Looks like you need edification, Teddy.” Milton grinned at Ruby.
    “We’re having shots and a beer. I’ll buy you a beer too.” Teddy gestured at Milton with his thumb, its nail black and split up the middle from when he’d caught it in the press. “Hell, I’ll buy everyone a beer.” He threw his arms out expansively toward the two men.
    Milton set two shots on the bar and then pulled the drafts. Her father held a