Elmore Leonard - The Big Bounce

From the edge of the bushes he called softly, “Hey!” and waited for her to reach him. He took her arm then and moved through the brush and scrub trees toward the beach, almost running, dragging her after him. As he reached the low rise above the sand he turned to catch her, letting her weight and momentum carry them over the edge so that they fell down to the sand clinging to each other, rolling and coming to a stop with Ryan lying partly on top of her, one leg over hers, resting his weight on his arms beneath her. He could feel her breathing against him as she tried to catch her breath, the nice nose and the partly open mouth close to his face and her eyes closed. He waited until her eyes opened, then waited a little more, looking at her and feeling her body relax.

“You get dressed quick.”

Her expression was calm, but her gaze held his expectantly, sensing something in his eyes or in the tone of his voice.

“You didn’t hear anyone,” she said finally. “You didn’t hear a thing.”

“Just for a while,” Ryan said, “let’s not talk, okay?”

“If we’re going to not talk,” Nancy said, “I’d rather not talk somewhere else.”

“You don’t like the sand?”

“I’m not the outdoorsy type, Jackie. You might as well know it.”

“I don’t think I can move.”

“Try,” Nancy said.

Ryan watched himself at certain times, sometimes when he was alone-like standing seven feet off third base and his hat on just right, or walking along the beach or driving a car-but usually it happened when he was with certain people. He wasn’t aware of himself when he was with Mr. Majestyk. But he was aware of himself almost all the time with Nancy, seeing himself and hearing himself and most of the time he looked dumb. Big jerky dumb guy saying dumb things, trying to impress the girl. He couldn’t get in the right frame of mind to feel sure of himself. He could fake it; he could act like the big smooth-o; but he could feel her watching him, still not impressed, maybe laughing at him, and he never for more than a moment felt in control. He was pretty sure she was at ease. But what if she was faking it? What if she was someone else inside, the way she said her mother was someone else looking out through her eyes? Maybe she was faking it. She was being cool and he was being cool, each trying to be cooler than the other until pretty soon, Ryan decided, you get so cool you can’t even move because of the chance that anything at all you might do might turn out to be dumb-anything. What good was being cool if you weren’t you? Whoever you are, Ryan thought.

He was at the wheel, aware of himself acting natural, not telling her where they were going and finally not having to tell her as they pulled in past the big blue-lit Bay Vista sign with the small red NO VACANCY glowing beneath it.

“I’ll show you where I live.”

He got out and waited for her and finally she came with him, around the side of the motel to his room.

“Wow,” Nancy said. She stood looking toward the dark swimming pool and the closed-in area between the cabanas that extended out to the beach.

“What’s the matter?”

“I can just see everybody at the pool,” Nancy said.

“All the tool and die makers sitting around in their vacation outfits.”

“Some of them go down to the beach.”

“That’d be fun too. Like a Black Sea resort.”

He opened the door to No. 7 and she stood just inside, looking around. Ryan had to move her to close the door. Then he stood looking around with her.

“Yes, it certainly is nice.”

“It’s all right,” Ryan said. “The bed’s comfortable. The walls could use some paint. I don’t know as I’ll bother, though.”

“Just hang some pictures.”

“I could do that, hang some pictures. Cover up where it’s peeling.”

“Get some of those nice old master prints at the dime store.”

“They have them there?”

“God, you probably would.”

“Well, to cover up the bad spots.”

“What else do you want to show me?”

“That’s all. I just wanted to show you where I live.”

“Great,” Nancy said. She turned to the door.

“I thought we might just sit around here,” Ryan said.

“Or lie around.”

Ryan smiled.

“Show me the rest first,” Nancy said.

Outside again she stood looking toward the swimming pool and the trees and the lights showing in the windows of the cabanas.

“The place really jumps, doesn’t it?”

“A lot of families are here. With kids.”

“Oh,” Nancy said, “with kids. That should be fun.”

She walked out to the pool, Ryan following. She stood at the edge looking into the water. A few steps behind her, watching her, Ryan thought: Boot her in the ass and go get a beer.

And what would that prove?

Well, it might not prove anything, but it was a thought. He could hear sounds now from No. 11, the beer drinkers, their wall of cans showing faintly in the darkness. He looked around. There was a light on in No. 5 behind the closed drapes. No. 5, the broad with the window. Or whatever her game was. He could go over right now and knock on the door and say, “Let’s see the window, honey,” catching her off-guard, and she’d probably say, “What window?”

“I’m sorry,” Nancy said.

He could feel her close behind him and could picture her waiting for him to turn around, the good little dark-haired girl waiting patiently, throwing it at him softly and getting him off-stride again, like a goddamn change-up.

“What’re you sorry about?” He half turned as he said it.

“I don’t know. I have the feeling you’re mad at me.”

“I’m not mad.”

“I just didn’t feel like staying inside.”

“Well, you said you’re not the outdoor type.”

“Outdoorsy, I said. I’m just not in the mood.” She edged a little to the side to work around in front of him. “I think I’ll be in the mood later. All right?”

“I sure appreciate it.”

“Don’t be mad. Let’s do something.”

“Yeah, well, if you bust any windows around here, you know who has to fix them.”

“That’s better.” She was smiling at him. “No-let’s just look around.”

“At the dumb families and the dumb kids?”

She reached up, taking his face between her hands, stretching up against him and pulling his face down; she kissed his mouth lightly and quietly, moving around a little but staying right in there and applying pressure when his arms went around her and his hands spread over her back.

She took his hand. “Come on, show me the Bay Villa.”

“Vista.”

“All right, then show me the Bay Vista.”

They were walking toward the beach now, holding hands, Ryan standing off from them watching them and glad it was dark.

“This is all there is to it. Fourteen cabanas-”

“Ca ban as?”

“That’s what he calls them. And the motel.”

“Who’s he?”

“Mr. Majestyk.”

“Oh, the one you were with at the Pier?”

“That’s right.”

“Where does he live?”

“In a house. Around the other side of Number One.”

“Show me.”

“It’s just a house.”

A beam of light spread out from the bole of a fir tree to flood Mr. Majestyk’s garden, illuminating the neatly trimmed shrubbery and border of white-painted rocks, the pale clean trunks of birch trees, the pair of flamingoes feeding beneath the birdhouse.

“Beautiful,” Nancy whispered. They were crossing the lawn in the darkness beyond the spotlight.

“He’s home,” Ryan said. “He’s probably watching television.”

“I’m sure he is,” Nancy said. “I love the lamp in the window.”

“His daughter decorated the place for him.”