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Ted shied back with an astounded and slightly nervous expression. "Never, never,
never."
St. Ives's smile was unshaken. "Well, maybe I was wrong about that, Pozz, but Ido know
you have the connections to help me."
"Not that way." Poznan laughed apologetically. He began to snip off the ends of the new
guitar strings, which fell to the concrete floor and tinkled. "That's no kind of real help."
"It's what I need," St. Ives explained gently. "To keep playing. After all, playing's what I
got left. And I think you'll help me, once you've thought about it." His eyes were dreamy
and quite implacable. "I know about Cotati." Ted dropped the dykes on the sound box of
the guitar. They left a dent in the bright wood. He stood there staring at it.
Though Martha refused to take any money for the tour from Mayland Long, that did not
alter the fact that he was a wealthy man, and would not by his own choice live under the
level of discomfort usual to touring musicians. He liked to eat in restaurants good
restaurants and he liked to take her with him. He said liking to eat in restaurants was a
universal Chinese characteristic.
Their lunch at the Heavenly Goose had really improved the day for both of them. They
had discussed yesterday's "accident" and today's altercation into insignificance. They had
congratulated each other on surviving a very grainy tour.
ABC Amber LIT Converter
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And when they and Marty met Elen Evans on Pacific Mall, coming out of a sandwich
shop in the company of Sandy, who was wearing overalls, she felt a twinge of guilt. She
wondered whether garlic and hot sauce on her breath would give her away. Marty, seeing
the woman who had dragged her along on errands all of the previous morning, slid
unobtrusively behind the concealment of Mr. Long's legs.
Elen was wearing lavender gauze. "Kiss, kiss," she said, waiting over to them with
pointed toes and a great rolling of the hips. With every step her ubiquitous hand-knotted
net bag knocked against her thigh, and the wooden handle of the wrench poked up like
the head of a little animal. To Martha's relief, however, she did not kiss them at all, but
turned her head to show a shocking red stripe down the back. "Today I'm being femme.
Sandy, to achieve cosmic balance, has dressed utterly in butch."
"I have to dig a French drain," said the other woman, half-defensively. Her voice was
slightly adenoidal, and she had very sloping shoulders, off which the overall straps
threatened to slide.
Martha looked at the burgundy stripe. "Very& Santa Cruz, I'm sure. Is it permanent?"
"Oh, quite." Elen gave a throaty giggle. "I couldn'thelp but think of George all the while
I was having it done. Won't he be impressed?"
No one gave her an answer.
Sandy, the babysitter, left them at the post office corner and went off to dig her drain.
She looked rather depressed about it.
"Nice person, isn't she?" asked Martha as they walked along.
"Oh my, yes. Oldest friend," replied Elen. She had left her exaggerated walk behind on
the mall.
"Why didn't she stop by after the concert last night? I forgot to thank her for lunch."
Elen blinked at Martha. "Sandy was at the Great American Thursday. She wasn't about
to listen to us two nights in a row."
It occurred to Martha that perhaps Elen didn't know about Sandy and George. It was
certainly not Martha's place to tell her. She kept her mouth shut.
They heard music as they entered by the back door of the theater, and they stood
blinking in the cool, dark air. "What's that?" asked Martha. "Somebody practicing?"
Elen cocked her head. "Sure. It's George and Teddy, though what they're playing I don't
know."
ABC Amber LIT Converter
http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
a
a
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But Martha pursed her mouth and did not move. "I'll give you Teddy," she said. "But
that'snot George St. Ives on the pipes."
"Maybe Teddy's playing with a tape." Elen scuffed forward along the cracked hall
toward the stairs. Long followed, holding Marty as though she were a bulky shopping
bag. Her round legs drummed thoughtlessly against his perfect silk suit. Martha came last
of all, frowning horribly with concentration and shaking her head as she went. "Not a
tape, I don't think," she said to the steps in front of her.
They opened the door to the dressing room and stood there all in a row, unnoticed by the
musicians within. They listened for a long time.
"It's not right," Martha whispered at last, unhappily.
Long, who deferred to her on all questions of taste, shot her an inquiring glance.
"Because it's not traditional?"
"Not at all that. Half what we do is not traditional, dear. This is& just not right."
Elen hissed into her ear. "Teddy's okay. He's just being Teddy. Following. It's George I
can't believe. He's& He's& "
Martha sucked in her breath. "That's it! That's what makes it sound so unfinished.
They'reboth following. No leader. No beginnings and ends."
"Perhaps it is a useful exercise. A discipline."
Elen snickered and stepped back out of the door. "More likely they're just stoned."
Marty, seeing one of her favorites sitting on the table, demanded her daddo put her
down, which he did. Making a large, obvious circle around St. Ives, the little girl skipped
over to Ted Poznan and began to talk up very loudly through the music. Long followed,
to keep her out of trouble. Ted showed all his perfect teeth to Marty.
Elen was still standing behind Martha in the hall, as though she could neither bring
herself to enter the room nor to leave it alone. "Actually, Ted's quite a nice-looking man,
isn't he?" she said to Martha in tones of some surprise.
Though Martha immediately agreed that he was, Elen proceeded as though she said
something different. "He really is. And he plays well and he means well, and he's
responsible and kids like him. Never knocks things over or has moods and has to be
placated, like young Trouble Himself.
"No. Certainly not."
"Much more attractive face and body than Pádraig's."
ABC Amber LIT Converter
http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
a
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A
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Martha had to nod.
"Then why is it that& that I& ?"
Martha didn't pretend not to understand. "I think it's the mucus-free diet, Elen. I wonder
if it doesn't depress sexual pheromones, or something like that."
Martha and Elen were called in by cries of gladness and so they had to come. They were
pushed to get their instruments.
They found themselves in an uncomfortable sort of jam in that hot room so
uncomfortable that only twenty minutes later Elen dropped out. Ostensibly this was
because her harp had faded completely out of tune with the others, but in reality because
she could not discover what effect it was that George and Ted were trying to produce, nor
what she had to offer toward it. Besides, she doubted very much the harp was being
heard.
Martha stayed in longer, attempting a takeover of leadership with her fiddle, which
failed. She left the two men playing and put her instrument away. Elen was still lounging
in the doorway, looking at her quizzically.
"Ya can lead 'em, but ya can't drive 'em," was Martha's comment.
Without making any sound to indicate conclusion George St. Ives let his pipes fall. He
grunted and took off his rag sweater, under which he wore a bleach-stained black T-shirt.
Martha did not understand the applause this action received from Ted Poznan.
"Music from the heart chakra," announced Ted, holding both of his arms out into the air.
Elen, who had pulled a soda out of the refrigerator in the corner, lowered the can from [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl szamanka888.keep.pl
Ted shied back with an astounded and slightly nervous expression. "Never, never,
never."
St. Ives's smile was unshaken. "Well, maybe I was wrong about that, Pozz, but Ido know
you have the connections to help me."
"Not that way." Poznan laughed apologetically. He began to snip off the ends of the new
guitar strings, which fell to the concrete floor and tinkled. "That's no kind of real help."
"It's what I need," St. Ives explained gently. "To keep playing. After all, playing's what I
got left. And I think you'll help me, once you've thought about it." His eyes were dreamy
and quite implacable. "I know about Cotati." Ted dropped the dykes on the sound box of
the guitar. They left a dent in the bright wood. He stood there staring at it.
Though Martha refused to take any money for the tour from Mayland Long, that did not
alter the fact that he was a wealthy man, and would not by his own choice live under the
level of discomfort usual to touring musicians. He liked to eat in restaurants good
restaurants and he liked to take her with him. He said liking to eat in restaurants was a
universal Chinese characteristic.
Their lunch at the Heavenly Goose had really improved the day for both of them. They
had discussed yesterday's "accident" and today's altercation into insignificance. They had
congratulated each other on surviving a very grainy tour.
ABC Amber LIT Converter
http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
a
a
T
T
n
n
s
s
F
F
f
f
o
o
D
D
r
r
P
P
m
m
Y
Y
e
e
Y
Y
r
r
B
B
2
2
.
.
B
B
A
A
Click here to buy
Click here to buy
w
w
m
m
w
w
o
o
w
w
c
c
.
.
.
.
A
A
Y
Y
B
B
Y
Y
B
B
r r
ABC Amber LIT Converter
http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
And when they and Marty met Elen Evans on Pacific Mall, coming out of a sandwich
shop in the company of Sandy, who was wearing overalls, she felt a twinge of guilt. She
wondered whether garlic and hot sauce on her breath would give her away. Marty, seeing
the woman who had dragged her along on errands all of the previous morning, slid
unobtrusively behind the concealment of Mr. Long's legs.
Elen was wearing lavender gauze. "Kiss, kiss," she said, waiting over to them with
pointed toes and a great rolling of the hips. With every step her ubiquitous hand-knotted
net bag knocked against her thigh, and the wooden handle of the wrench poked up like
the head of a little animal. To Martha's relief, however, she did not kiss them at all, but
turned her head to show a shocking red stripe down the back. "Today I'm being femme.
Sandy, to achieve cosmic balance, has dressed utterly in butch."
"I have to dig a French drain," said the other woman, half-defensively. Her voice was
slightly adenoidal, and she had very sloping shoulders, off which the overall straps
threatened to slide.
Martha looked at the burgundy stripe. "Very& Santa Cruz, I'm sure. Is it permanent?"
"Oh, quite." Elen gave a throaty giggle. "I couldn'thelp but think of George all the while
I was having it done. Won't he be impressed?"
No one gave her an answer.
Sandy, the babysitter, left them at the post office corner and went off to dig her drain.
She looked rather depressed about it.
"Nice person, isn't she?" asked Martha as they walked along.
"Oh my, yes. Oldest friend," replied Elen. She had left her exaggerated walk behind on
the mall.
"Why didn't she stop by after the concert last night? I forgot to thank her for lunch."
Elen blinked at Martha. "Sandy was at the Great American Thursday. She wasn't about
to listen to us two nights in a row."
It occurred to Martha that perhaps Elen didn't know about Sandy and George. It was
certainly not Martha's place to tell her. She kept her mouth shut.
They heard music as they entered by the back door of the theater, and they stood
blinking in the cool, dark air. "What's that?" asked Martha. "Somebody practicing?"
Elen cocked her head. "Sure. It's George and Teddy, though what they're playing I don't
know."
ABC Amber LIT Converter
http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
a
a
T
T
n
n
s
s
F
F
f
f
o
o
D
D
r
r
P
P
m
m
Y
Y
e
e
Y
Y
r
r
B
B
2
2
.
.
B
B
A
A
Click here to buy
Click here to buy
w
w
m
m
w
w
o
o
w
w
c
c
.
.
.
.
A
A
Y
Y
B
B
Y
Y
B
B
r r
ABC Amber LIT Converter
http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
But Martha pursed her mouth and did not move. "I'll give you Teddy," she said. "But
that'snot George St. Ives on the pipes."
"Maybe Teddy's playing with a tape." Elen scuffed forward along the cracked hall
toward the stairs. Long followed, holding Marty as though she were a bulky shopping
bag. Her round legs drummed thoughtlessly against his perfect silk suit. Martha came last
of all, frowning horribly with concentration and shaking her head as she went. "Not a
tape, I don't think," she said to the steps in front of her.
They opened the door to the dressing room and stood there all in a row, unnoticed by the
musicians within. They listened for a long time.
"It's not right," Martha whispered at last, unhappily.
Long, who deferred to her on all questions of taste, shot her an inquiring glance.
"Because it's not traditional?"
"Not at all that. Half what we do is not traditional, dear. This is& just not right."
Elen hissed into her ear. "Teddy's okay. He's just being Teddy. Following. It's George I
can't believe. He's& He's& "
Martha sucked in her breath. "That's it! That's what makes it sound so unfinished.
They'reboth following. No leader. No beginnings and ends."
"Perhaps it is a useful exercise. A discipline."
Elen snickered and stepped back out of the door. "More likely they're just stoned."
Marty, seeing one of her favorites sitting on the table, demanded her daddo put her
down, which he did. Making a large, obvious circle around St. Ives, the little girl skipped
over to Ted Poznan and began to talk up very loudly through the music. Long followed,
to keep her out of trouble. Ted showed all his perfect teeth to Marty.
Elen was still standing behind Martha in the hall, as though she could neither bring
herself to enter the room nor to leave it alone. "Actually, Ted's quite a nice-looking man,
isn't he?" she said to Martha in tones of some surprise.
Though Martha immediately agreed that he was, Elen proceeded as though she said
something different. "He really is. And he plays well and he means well, and he's
responsible and kids like him. Never knocks things over or has moods and has to be
placated, like young Trouble Himself.
"No. Certainly not."
"Much more attractive face and body than Pádraig's."
ABC Amber LIT Converter
http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
a
a
T
T
n
n
s
s
F
F
f
f
o
o
D
D
r
r
P
P
m
m
Y
Y
e
e
Y
Y
r
r
B
B
2
2
.
.
B
B
A
A
Click here to buy
Click here to buy
w
w
m
m
w
w
o
o
w
w
c
c
.
.
.
.
A
A
Y
Y
B
B
Y
Y
B
B
r r
ABC Amber LIT Converter
http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Martha had to nod.
"Then why is it that& that I& ?"
Martha didn't pretend not to understand. "I think it's the mucus-free diet, Elen. I wonder
if it doesn't depress sexual pheromones, or something like that."
Martha and Elen were called in by cries of gladness and so they had to come. They were
pushed to get their instruments.
They found themselves in an uncomfortable sort of jam in that hot room so
uncomfortable that only twenty minutes later Elen dropped out. Ostensibly this was
because her harp had faded completely out of tune with the others, but in reality because
she could not discover what effect it was that George and Ted were trying to produce, nor
what she had to offer toward it. Besides, she doubted very much the harp was being
heard.
Martha stayed in longer, attempting a takeover of leadership with her fiddle, which
failed. She left the two men playing and put her instrument away. Elen was still lounging
in the doorway, looking at her quizzically.
"Ya can lead 'em, but ya can't drive 'em," was Martha's comment.
Without making any sound to indicate conclusion George St. Ives let his pipes fall. He
grunted and took off his rag sweater, under which he wore a bleach-stained black T-shirt.
Martha did not understand the applause this action received from Ted Poznan.
"Music from the heart chakra," announced Ted, holding both of his arms out into the air.
Elen, who had pulled a soda out of the refrigerator in the corner, lowered the can from [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]