The Man Who Loved Women to Death Read Online Free

hair long and shiny. Good teeth, too, with just a slight overbite, which I’ve always had this thing for. Don’t know why, I just do. She looked to be maybe 28. Wore a leather jacket with a small backpack over it, baggy jeans and those big heavy motorcycle boots they’ve all taken to wearing. Which I don’t understand, since I think a woman’s slender ankle and foot are among the sexiest things they got working for them. She was looking real tough and together, the way the honeys do in New York when they are standing around somewhere in public.
    I knew better, of course.
    When the downtown local came I got on the same car with her. She took a seat and got into her book, some damn thing about a housecat who went to Paris, France. Whoop-de-damn-do. I stood there with my back to the door and my eyes on her. She looked up once, when we stopped at Columbus Circle, her eyes sweeping across the different faces in the car. They locked onto mine for a second, but kept right on going. The expression on her face told me nothing. My heart was pounding. But I was cool. I was so very cool.
    She got off at Times Square and started walking through the station toward the Grand Central shuttle. I did the same, eyeballing the clenching and unclenching of that terrific little butt inside those jeans. I stayed a safe twenty feet back, feeling loose and light on my feet, feeling good. She caught the shuttle, then came up in the Graybar Building on 41st Street and started walking downtown on Lex. I stayed right on her. Damned noisy in that part of town during the morning rush. People screaming, horns honking, ambulances with their sirens blaring. Somebody’s car alarm went off, sounded like they just won the jackpot on one of those TV game shows you and me used to watch together when we were good boys. She paid no attention to any of it. Just kept right on walking. Went into a Korean grocery on the corner of 32nd Street and bought a bunch of flowers. Then she started toward Third on 32nd. Halfway down the block she stopped at a pet food store and got buzzed in. I waited across the street five minutes. When she didn’t come out I figured this must be where she worked.
    I crossed the street. I got myself buzzed in.
    It was a small place, seemed to be about health food for dogs and cats. Stuff like organic kibble, if you can believe that, Friend E. There was some homey worked there, bringing big bags of stuff up from the basement. And there was her, standing behind the counter bossing him around. She ran the place. She smiled at me real nice. Didn’t recognize me from the subway. Or if she did she didn’t let on. She asked if she could help me. Her voice caught me by surprise. It was so unbelievably chirpy and high-pitched I almost lost it. Was damned glad I wasn’t on any of the major hallucinogens. Or anything else. Which, as you know, is not too typical for me.
    I said It must be nice. She frowned and said What must be nice? I said Being so sure of yourself — you seem like a person who never has any self-doubts, and I envy that.
    Well, this pretty much got her attention, Friend E. Which, in case you are taking notes at home, is that Much Desired First Step. I said I’m looking for kibble for my new puppy and I want it to be free of chemicals and preservatives. She said What kind of dog is it. I said A golden retriever, eight weeks old. And she said They are soooo adorable when they are that age. I admitted as how he’d stolen my heart, which was not so very hard since I’d just gone through a really messy breakup and was trying to start over fresh.
    This was me baiting the hook, E. Any honey who runs a pet food store and reads cat books is bound to melt for a human stray. Friend E, it’s vitally important that you become who they want you to become. Guys are all the time asking me what my secret is, and that is it, nothing more.
    Be who they want you to be.
    She told me she herself had two cats, Fred and Ethel. I told her I’d named