Читать книгу Sunset People - Herbert Kastle - Страница 3

He drove north to Sunset Boulevard. It was late enough for traffic to have thinned out, but there were still cars and pedestrians aplenty. They’d be there all through the night, because it was summer and this was the Strip,

A young woman in bright, revealing clothing—dress slit to her upper thigh, blouse open down to her middle—crossed in front of him at a traffic light. She looked at him and ran her tongue over her red lips in an obvious solicitation. His face twisted and he gunned his engine in sudden need to run the filth down. She leaped out of the way and shouted, “Fag bastard!”

People turned to look, and he jumped the light and turned south off Sunset at the very next corner.

His nerves were stretched taut. He couldn’t go on this way. He’d do something foolish.

He needed the tranquilizing effect of the gun.