whore vidal

my hands ain't dirty as my mind

"Ordell had Max Cherry’s business card, GENTLEMAN PREFER BONDS written on it. He dialed the number. The voice that answered sounded like Winston’s, telling him Max wasn’t there.
‘He leave town?’
‘He’s around.’
‘Give me his home number.’
‘I’ll give you his beeper.’
Ordell left the little stucco house that looked like it was rusting out, the screens broken, walked two blocks east and around the corner to the bar on Broadway where he dialed Max Cherry’s beeper number and left the number in the phone booth for him to call. Ordell had a rum collins while he waited. The bartender was the one he’d asked Thursday night what was the name of the woman came in here did heroin and tricks on the side. Was it Danielle? The bartender said heroin was the dope of choice again with many. This one, Ordell said, was kind of red-headed, tall, had real skinny legs. The bartender said Raynelle? That was it, Raynelle. Ordell found her that same night, bought her rum collinses till 1:00 a.m.—the woman a disappointment, losing it fast, had the same rusted-out look as her house.
The phone rang in the booth.
Ordell went in and closed the door.
Max Cherry’s voice said, ‘I’ve been looking for you.’”

—elmore leonard, ‘rum punch’

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