smiled in self-satisfaction all the way home while he thought, I got them sons-a-bitches where I want them and I ain't lettin' go till they come through with the greenbacks!
When Herb got home, Ada was standing in the living room with her coat still on, reading a postcard. She looked up, startled to see him coming in the door.
“Why, Herb, you're out.”
“Goddam right I'm out. Them Forresters know what's good for 'em, that's why I'm out. Where's the girl?” His eyes were bloodshot, his knuckles still taped, the bandages dirty now. He already had the rank stench of gin on his breath.
“She's all right, Herb,” Ada offered timorously, holding out the card. “Look, she's in Omaha with a friend who—”
“Omaha!” The word rattled the windows as Herb reeled and smacked the postcard out of his wife's hand. She cowered, watching with huge eyes as he teetered and stooped to pick up the card off the floor. He gaped at the handwriting to make sure it was Catherine's. He swiped the soiled bandage across the eyes that always wore a film of water over their ochred whites. When his vision cleared, he studied the card again, then whispered, “Them rich sons-a-bitchin' whorin' no-good bastards are gonna pay for this! Nobody makes a horse's ass outa Herb Anderson and gets away with it!” Then he shoved past Ada as if she weren't there, heading out again.
She collapsed into a chair with a shudder of relief.
At Horizons, Francie got even with a few of life's injustices by stealing a bottle of Charlie perfume from the top of Catherine Anderson's dresser.
At the University of Minnesota one of those very injustices was at that moment folding her exquisite, thoroughbred legs into Clay Forrester's Corvette.
“You're late,” Jill Magnusson scolded, placing one gleaming fingernail on the door to prevent Clay from closing it, at the same time turning upon him a stunning smile that had cost her father approximately two thousand dollars in orthodontia. Jill was a beauty, and a member of the elite sorority Kappa Alpha Theta, whose members were loosely referred to as the “Thetas,” known down through the years as the rich girls' sorority at the U of M.
“Busy day,” Clay answered, suddenly piqued by her method of holding them up. He was too distracted to be charmed by those supple limbs right now. He slammed the door and walked around to his side. The engine purred as they pulled away from the curb.
“I need to stop by the photo lab to check on some pictures for a research project.” Jill was more than a superficial appearance; she was majoring in aviation electronics and had every intention of designing the first jet shuttle between the earth and moon. With career goals set high she wasn't the least bit interested in getting married yet. She and Clay understood each other well.
But tonight he was unusually testy. “I'm late and you're the one who's going to stop at the photo lab on our way to the party!” Clay snapped, laying a thin line of rubber as the car peeled away.
“My, aren't we touchy tonight.”
“Jill, I told you I wanted to stay home and study. You're the one who insisted we go to this party. You'll forgive me if I dislike playing escort service on the way.”
“Fine. Forget the lab. I can pick the photos up myself tomorrow.”
Gearing down at a stop sign, he screeched to a halt, throwing Jill forcefully forward.
“What in the world is the matter with you!” she exclaimed.
“I'm not in a party mood, that's all.”
“Obviously,” she said dryly. “Then forget the photo lab and the party too.”
“You dragged me out to this damn party, now we're going!”
“Clay Forrester, don't you speak to me in that tone of voice. If you didn't want to go with me you could have said so. You said you had a case to study this weekend. There's a vast difference between the two.”
He threw the car into gear and screamed down University Avenue toward the heart of the campus, zinging in and out between
When Herb got home, Ada was standing in the living room with her coat still on, reading a postcard. She looked up, startled to see him coming in the door.
“Why, Herb, you're out.”
“Goddam right I'm out. Them Forresters know what's good for 'em, that's why I'm out. Where's the girl?” His eyes were bloodshot, his knuckles still taped, the bandages dirty now. He already had the rank stench of gin on his breath.
“She's all right, Herb,” Ada offered timorously, holding out the card. “Look, she's in Omaha with a friend who—”
“Omaha!” The word rattled the windows as Herb reeled and smacked the postcard out of his wife's hand. She cowered, watching with huge eyes as he teetered and stooped to pick up the card off the floor. He gaped at the handwriting to make sure it was Catherine's. He swiped the soiled bandage across the eyes that always wore a film of water over their ochred whites. When his vision cleared, he studied the card again, then whispered, “Them rich sons-a-bitchin' whorin' no-good bastards are gonna pay for this! Nobody makes a horse's ass outa Herb Anderson and gets away with it!” Then he shoved past Ada as if she weren't there, heading out again.
She collapsed into a chair with a shudder of relief.
At Horizons, Francie got even with a few of life's injustices by stealing a bottle of Charlie perfume from the top of Catherine Anderson's dresser.
At the University of Minnesota one of those very injustices was at that moment folding her exquisite, thoroughbred legs into Clay Forrester's Corvette.
“You're late,” Jill Magnusson scolded, placing one gleaming fingernail on the door to prevent Clay from closing it, at the same time turning upon him a stunning smile that had cost her father approximately two thousand dollars in orthodontia. Jill was a beauty, and a member of the elite sorority Kappa Alpha Theta, whose members were loosely referred to as the “Thetas,” known down through the years as the rich girls' sorority at the U of M.
“Busy day,” Clay answered, suddenly piqued by her method of holding them up. He was too distracted to be charmed by those supple limbs right now. He slammed the door and walked around to his side. The engine purred as they pulled away from the curb.
“I need to stop by the photo lab to check on some pictures for a research project.” Jill was more than a superficial appearance; she was majoring in aviation electronics and had every intention of designing the first jet shuttle between the earth and moon. With career goals set high she wasn't the least bit interested in getting married yet. She and Clay understood each other well.
But tonight he was unusually testy. “I'm late and you're the one who's going to stop at the photo lab on our way to the party!” Clay snapped, laying a thin line of rubber as the car peeled away.
“My, aren't we touchy tonight.”
“Jill, I told you I wanted to stay home and study. You're the one who insisted we go to this party. You'll forgive me if I dislike playing escort service on the way.”
“Fine. Forget the lab. I can pick the photos up myself tomorrow.”
Gearing down at a stop sign, he screeched to a halt, throwing Jill forcefully forward.
“What in the world is the matter with you!” she exclaimed.
“I'm not in a party mood, that's all.”
“Obviously,” she said dryly. “Then forget the photo lab and the party too.”
“You dragged me out to this damn party, now we're going!”
“Clay Forrester, don't you speak to me in that tone of voice. If you didn't want to go with me you could have said so. You said you had a case to study this weekend. There's a vast difference between the two.”
He threw the car into gear and screamed down University Avenue toward the heart of the campus, zinging in and out between
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