Falcon's Flight Read Free

into a smile.
    “I will be seeing the ocean, though. I’ve reserved a room at a casino hotel, and I’ll be leaving for Atlantic City the day after my swan-song performance.” “You’re going to the seashore in October?” Marie’s incredulous expression drew a soft burst of laughter from Leslie. “My plan is to make a splash at the tables, not in the ocean,” she chided.
    Marie didn’t join in with Leslie’s laughter. Her lips turned down in a deepening frown. “Didn’t you spend three entire nights gambling in Las Vegas while you were staying with your cousin Logan in Nevada last fall?” she asked suspiciously.
    “Yes,” Leslie replied calmly. “Why?”
    “Well...” Marie drew the word out.
    “Well what?” Leslie asked, lighting yet another cigarette.
    “And didn’t you make several quick trips to Atlantic City since then?” Marie went on doggedly.
    Leslie smiled sardonically. “More than several----
    So?” she asked, impatiently.
    “Sooo.” Marie wet her lips, then blurted out, “I just hope this gambling thing isn’t becoming compulsive with you.”
    “Compulsive?” Leslie looked stunned for an instant, then the delightful sound of her husky laughter filled the air. “Oh, Marie!” she gasped. “What would I do without you?”
    “I have a sneaky suspicion that you’d manage very well,” Marie retorted, flushing with pleasure.
    A gentle smile replaced the laughter on Leslie’s soft lips. “Dear friend, I assure you that I’m in no danger of becoming a compulsive, wild-eyed gambler.” Sobering, she crushed out her cigarette, then swallowed
    the last of her now-tepid coffee. “The money I spend in the casinos means nothing to me—as you know.” Her elegant eyebrows peaked questioningly.
    Marie had little choice but to nod. All of Leslie’s friends were aware of her attitude toward money, and they had all benefited from it in one form or another. The only value money had for Leslie was the pleasure she derived from it, whether spending it on herself or lavishing it on her friends in gifts or outright loans. On being chastised or teased for her lack of thriftiness and failure to prepare for the future, Leslie’s response was always the same: Life is really very short, and there are no pockets in a shroud.
    Like most humans afraid to face the fact of her own mortality, Marie despaired of Leslie’s attitude and continued to squirrel away every extra dollar against the nebulous mirage of tomorrow. And she continued to frown at Leslie’s imprudent life-style.
    “Don’t glower at me,” Leslie pleaded, unsuccessfully hiding a wicked grin. “Will it relieve you to know that I really haven’t gambled away all that much money?”
    Though Marie’s expression was blatantly skeptical, she again nodded her head.
    “Well, I haven’t,” Leslie said with flat emphasis, her grin fading. “Believe it or not, I win quite often and break even as often as 1 lose.” She lifted her shoulders in a careless shrug that caused her glorious mane of deep red hair to ripple like a living flame. “I’d judge I’ve spent about as much as it would cost for a good analyst—” her soft lips curled cynically “—and I’ve had a lot more fun.”
    “An analyst!” Marie exclaimed, her eyes wide with alarm. “I didn’t know you were thinking about consulting an analyst.”

    “I’m not,” Leslie said soothingly.
    “But you just said—”
    “I said that I derive more enjoyment from time spent in the casinos than I would lying on a couch telling my sad tale of woe to an analyst,” Leslie clarified.
    Marie sighed. “I simply don’t understand you, Les.”
    “I know.” Leslie smiled. “But don’t worry about it; I understand me perfectly.”
    “But are you sure you’re not just kidding yourself?” Marie argued. “Don’t most addicts claim that they really don’t need their fix?”
    “Oh, I never said I don’t need it,” Leslie replied at once. “I do need it, and I know