Page:Jay Little - Maybe—Tomorrow.pdf/185

 faint signals of alarm came to him. Yet, nothing could happen to him on the street.

She now stepped along with him, matching his stride. He didn't know just how to get rid of her. Perhaps one little drink … He stopped and said … "I really shouldn't … It's quite late and I should meet these friends … I'm sure they're waiting for me … Maybe some other night."

A cop, a pudgy man whose head and shoulders hardly came up above Gaylord's shoulders, asked, "What's going on Flo?"

"Nothing," she murmured, "this young man just asked to buy Flo a drink, didn't you, honey?"

"No … I really have to go," stammered Gaylord.

She came back. "Now honey … you know you asked me."

"I don't think he did, Flo. If you don't stop going for quail gal I'm going to have to run ya in, yes. I told ya not to hustle on my beat … Now this is the last time I'm going to tell ya …"

"He said he'd buy me a drink … I'm not hustling … honest, Pat."

"Don't give me that crap …" he said without any manners. "You're all alike … Go on Flo … Move on …"

"Pat," she whined.

"Go on … ya want me to run ya in? Just stay around here a second longer."

"Well," she said as she was on the point of departure. "You can't blame a girl for trying, can you, copper?" Then she turned and glided down the street, swaying her hips in perfect rhythm to the swinging of the large purse in her hand.

"Thank you officer," said Gaylord. "I didn't offer to buy her a drink."

The officer looked at him speculatively again and broached, "I know you didn't … but some of these women don't have to be asked."

Gaylord agreed.

"Live here?" the officer asked.

"No, sir. I live in Cotton, Texas."

"What are ya doing here?" asked the officer, eyeing him carefully.

"I'm here with my mother and dad for a few days."

"Where you stayin'?" 175