Brett Halliday - Mike Shayne's Torrid Twelve

“That’s her personality. She likes to cuddle. Plus, she goes for me.”

“Then why you bothering me?”

“Maybe I prefer you.”

That’s the bombshell. She don’t know what to say to that. I let it sink in good and deep.

Finally she says, “You only said maybe.”

“You know I mean more than that, Tabby.”

“Yeah, maybe you do, and maybe you don’t.”

“Hey, why you talk like that?”

“’Cause you’re a known playboy. You fool around, but you’re all lies to the girls.”

“Sure, ’cause I don’t like none of them. But with you, it’s different.”

That kind of talk’s got to hit, and it does. She gives me a small kind of smile, and I know I got her on the run.

“You really mean all that?” she asks me.

“Well, talking ain’t going to prove it.”

“What does?”

I got to show so I pull her closer. She got a real small kind of waist, nice to hold. I kiss her ear, put my lips on her neck.

That seals it. She been kind of stiff. Now she comes in real close without no help, snuggles up like we going to be married by morning.

We dance out a couple of records like that and then sit it out with a beer.

What I noticed before, I notice again. Stovepipe and Fandango both have eyes for Tabby.

She’s so blind for me, she don’t see nothing. But my mind’s working overtime. I don’t know why I hate them two guys, but I do. Behind that is all this fussing with Tabby.

It’s set now. Just got to wait for the moment to be ripe.

Stovepipe helps out by walking over and asking Tabby for a dance. She looks at me to see how I feel. I’m naturally burned, but I cool it and say, “It’s okay, Tabby.”

She kind of don’t want to, but she can’t do nothing about it. So she gets up to dance.

I keep one eye on them, the other on Fandango. Fandango looks fit to bust. That’s fine. Something’s got to happen out of that.

The record ends, and Tabby comes back to me. Stovepipe is with her, and he got that real hungry look now, like he tasted a bite and wants all.

He plays it real cool, thanks Tabby and thanks me, like I done him something.

A new record comes on, and I catch hold of Tabby. We dance and don’t talk for a while.

Finally, I say, “How was Stovepipe?”

“What do you mean, Johnny?”

“Did he behave himself?”

“He didn’t do nothing out of the way.”

“He might, ’cause he’s liking you.”

“Tough! I don’t like him.”

I laugh on that and say, “After all, you can’t blame him. You’re so pretty, and he ain’t got no steady.”

Tabby gives me a funny look, like she’s figuring what this is all about and can’t get to the answer.

“Why you talking up for him?” she finally asks me.

“’Cause he’s a friend of mine. That’s all. So you be nice to him.”

I get a real popeyed stare on that and no answer.

“You hear me talking?” I say.

“Yeah.”

“Okay, good.”

We dance out the record and sit down again. I spot Stovepipe watching, like he’s figuring on asking Tabby for another dance. Across the room is Fandango with a greedy look in his eye.

He’s the hungrier, so he moves first. Two seconds later, he’s standing in front of me and Tabby with a silly look on his face, like he don’t know what to do with himself.

I put him at his ease and say, “You want something, Fandango?”

He moves his head like a rooster, and the words don’t come for him at first. He’s all screwed up. Finally he gets it out.

“You mind if I dance with Tabby?”

“Hell, no,” I say. “It’s all right with me, friend.”

That goofs Tabby. She looks at me like I’ve gone crazy, so I tell her, “It’s all right, baby. It’s only a dance he’s asking for. He ain’t going to bite you.”

Tabby gets up on that and closes with Fandango. It’s a cool record. I watch them. Fandango can’t dance for crap.

I look across the room and watch Stovepipe. That boy is watching with daggers. It’s like I figured. He’s on the jealous side.

It’s all working out pretty. When the record goes off, Tabby comes back to me. Fandango’s grinning so big his face is like to split.

“Thanks, man,” he says to me.

“Don’t mention it.”

I look away and light a cigarette. He takes the hint and moves off.

Tabby’s sitting next to me. Got that funny look on her face again, like she’s putting things together. Another record’s on.

“You want to dance this one with me?” she asks.

“Naw, let it slide. You want some beer?”

“I’d rather dance, Johnny.”

“Well, I’m going to have me a beer.”

I get up, walk off and catch me a can of that stuff. When I come back, Tabby looks kind of worried. “Something wrong?” I say.

“Not exactly.”

“Yeah, something is. Tell it.”

“Okay, since you say you go for me so strong, how come you don’t mind me dancing with others?”

“You want a true answer?”

“I don’t want no lies.”

“Okay. One is, we ain’t married yet. Second, if my friends ask for a dance, there ain’t no harm in that. I don’t expect you to turn them down.”

“But I don’t care to dance with them.”

“Does that mean you don’t want to?”

“I didn’t say that, Johnny.”

“That’s the way it sounds. But that’s okay. Have it any way you like it.”

I say that real cool, stand up and finish off the can of beer. After that, I just walk away and leave her there.

China’s not dancing. I walk up and ask her to dance. She obliges. This is a real slow number playing, and one thing about China. She know how to do like a snake with them slow discs.

I’m all for that, and we do some real grinding. At the same time I keep watch on Tabby from under my eyes.

Man, she’s fit to be tied. The number ends, I give China a pat and grab me another can of beer. When I got half it down my gut, I feel somebody tug on my arm. It’s Tabby. I swing around and say, “Hey, you want something, girl?”

“I want to talk to you, Johnny.”

“Yeah, go ahead. My ears is open.”

“You ain’t sore at me, are you?”

“Sore at you? Naw.”

“Then why you going for China so strong?”

“Maybe ’cause she appreciates me more than you do.”

“Yeah, how could she when she’s for anybody?”

“And you’re for somebody?”

She drops her eyes on that and don’t answer.

“Say what you mean then, girl.”

“You know I’m liking you Johnny.”

“That don’t seem so when you start right off telling me the score and all that.”

“I’m sorry, Johnny.”

“Okay.”

“Then everything’s like before?”

“Yeah, baby, it’s all like before.”

“You want to dance?”

We move together, but it ain’t dancing she wants. That’s just an excuse to be in my arms. She holds tight, like nobody can get us loose.

The situation’s all mine. I ain’t too bad, either, ’cause having Tabby is a nice feeling.

A little later, Stovepipe comes back to ask for a second dance. He’s just as stupid and a little bolder this time, but not enough for me to slap him down.

“May I have the pleasure of another dance?” he says to Tabby. He even gives a little bow to make it real fancy. Then he says to me quick, “You don’t mind, Johnny?”

“Not at all, friend.”

This time Tabby knows what to do. Maybe she don’t like it, but she gets up and closes with Stovepipe.

Meanwhile, Fandango’s dancing with a skinny rat named Skippy, but his eyes is on Tabby and Stovepipe. That’s okay. Things is building up.

I go for another beer. China’s got a can and swigging at it. She sees me and says, “Johnny, you playing around. You shouldn’t do like that?”