Venice Boulevard.
"What's the matter with you?" Spencer had asked, seeing Father Willie's brick red face.
"Nothing. Nothing."
Father Willie had vowed to forget No-Balls Hadley but found to his shame and dismay that she was even more desirable.
When Spencer and Father Willie arrived at the party at Sergeant Yanov's apartment, Willie had not been thinking of his previous unsuccessful encounter with No-Balls Hadley. His gin ravaged brain would not admit those warnings and fears which keep most men from achieving celebrity.
When Father Willie Wright set foot in that raucous smoke filled steamy apartment he was roaring drunk. He squirmed past sweaty bodies which danced wall to wall in the suffocating rooms. The party spilled out onto the balcony and even extended to the pool where at least a dozen clerks from Wilshire and Rampart and Hollywood stations swam bikini clad while goatish policemen swam naked until the apartment house manager threatened to call the police-the ones with clothes on. The men then swam in their underwear or trousers until the manager scurried back inside then stripped again.
Father Willie's protuberant blue eyes were red and raw by the time he bumped his way through the crowd. The smoke was making him slightly sick and defeated when he heard it coming from the bedroom. Her voice!
"Listen, Sheila," she was saying to Officer Sheila Franklin, a personable brunette who worked Juvenile at Central, "I want to leave right this minute and I don't care if you are worried about Nick Yanov's feelings. Damn it, he should control these stupid disgusting drunks if he expects people to stay at the party. Of course I got out of the pool! I'm not staying there while these pea brained chest beaters swim around nude! I'm not interested in Sergeant Nick Yanov or any of these creeps and I only came here because you."
And as Father Willie strained to hear the voice of his secret love, Francis Tanaguchi abruptly changed the tape from Elton John to The Carpenters because he had finally managed to get a dance with Ida Keely, a cute communications operator with eyes like a deer. He had a blue veiner even before the song began.
Lookin back on how it was in years gone by and the good times that I had Makes today seem rather sad so much has changed.
Officer Sheila Franklin sighed, stood and made her way out of the cluttered bedroom where most of the living room furniture had been pushed to make room for the dancers. She stopped before opening the door and said, "All right, Reba, I've asked you to be sociable and stay a little while because you know how I feel about Nick Yanov. But if you have to go."
"I can call a cab. You stay."
"Damn it, Reba, I brought you here. I'll take you back to your car. But you know something? It's not a rough party. They're just dancing and."
"I was practically mauled in the swimming pool!"
"One drunk grabbed your ass. Come on, Reba, you're a cop too, for God's sake. They're just a little drunk."
"I'll call a cab."
"No, no, no, I'll tell Nick we're leaving. Go ahead and change."
And then as Father Willie ducked into the bathroom the partially opened bedroom door swung open and Sheila Franklin, still wearing her wet bikini under a blue terry cloth robe, crossed the hallway and went out a side door which opened onto a terrace where Sergeant Nick Yanov sat playing nickel and dime poker with five other policemen.
It was songs of love that I would sing to them
And I'd memorize each word.
Those old melodies still sound so good to me As they melt the years away.
No-Balls Hadley still sat where Sheila Franklin had left her. On a large glass coffee table. In her wet bathing suit. A short robe she had borrowed from Nick Yanov covered her sleek flesh as Father Willie Wright quietly pushed open the door behind her.
The sound of No-Balls Hadley's voice. The heart searing voice of Karen Carpenter. The unbearable nostalgia of his high school days. Twelve ounces of gin fermenting in his young
"What's the matter with you?" Spencer had asked, seeing Father Willie's brick red face.
"Nothing. Nothing."
Father Willie had vowed to forget No-Balls Hadley but found to his shame and dismay that she was even more desirable.
When Spencer and Father Willie arrived at the party at Sergeant Yanov's apartment, Willie had not been thinking of his previous unsuccessful encounter with No-Balls Hadley. His gin ravaged brain would not admit those warnings and fears which keep most men from achieving celebrity.
When Father Willie Wright set foot in that raucous smoke filled steamy apartment he was roaring drunk. He squirmed past sweaty bodies which danced wall to wall in the suffocating rooms. The party spilled out onto the balcony and even extended to the pool where at least a dozen clerks from Wilshire and Rampart and Hollywood stations swam bikini clad while goatish policemen swam naked until the apartment house manager threatened to call the police-the ones with clothes on. The men then swam in their underwear or trousers until the manager scurried back inside then stripped again.
Father Willie's protuberant blue eyes were red and raw by the time he bumped his way through the crowd. The smoke was making him slightly sick and defeated when he heard it coming from the bedroom. Her voice!
"Listen, Sheila," she was saying to Officer Sheila Franklin, a personable brunette who worked Juvenile at Central, "I want to leave right this minute and I don't care if you are worried about Nick Yanov's feelings. Damn it, he should control these stupid disgusting drunks if he expects people to stay at the party. Of course I got out of the pool! I'm not staying there while these pea brained chest beaters swim around nude! I'm not interested in Sergeant Nick Yanov or any of these creeps and I only came here because you."
And as Father Willie strained to hear the voice of his secret love, Francis Tanaguchi abruptly changed the tape from Elton John to The Carpenters because he had finally managed to get a dance with Ida Keely, a cute communications operator with eyes like a deer. He had a blue veiner even before the song began.
Lookin back on how it was in years gone by and the good times that I had Makes today seem rather sad so much has changed.
Officer Sheila Franklin sighed, stood and made her way out of the cluttered bedroom where most of the living room furniture had been pushed to make room for the dancers. She stopped before opening the door and said, "All right, Reba, I've asked you to be sociable and stay a little while because you know how I feel about Nick Yanov. But if you have to go."
"I can call a cab. You stay."
"Damn it, Reba, I brought you here. I'll take you back to your car. But you know something? It's not a rough party. They're just dancing and."
"I was practically mauled in the swimming pool!"
"One drunk grabbed your ass. Come on, Reba, you're a cop too, for God's sake. They're just a little drunk."
"I'll call a cab."
"No, no, no, I'll tell Nick we're leaving. Go ahead and change."
And then as Father Willie ducked into the bathroom the partially opened bedroom door swung open and Sheila Franklin, still wearing her wet bikini under a blue terry cloth robe, crossed the hallway and went out a side door which opened onto a terrace where Sergeant Nick Yanov sat playing nickel and dime poker with five other policemen.
It was songs of love that I would sing to them
And I'd memorize each word.
Those old melodies still sound so good to me As they melt the years away.
No-Balls Hadley still sat where Sheila Franklin had left her. On a large glass coffee table. In her wet bathing suit. A short robe she had borrowed from Nick Yanov covered her sleek flesh as Father Willie Wright quietly pushed open the door behind her.
The sound of No-Balls Hadley's voice. The heart searing voice of Karen Carpenter. The unbearable nostalgia of his high school days. Twelve ounces of gin fermenting in his young
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