Nightfall Read Free Page B

eye.”
      Vanning gulped and got it down. He looked at the fat fellow. He said, “What?”
      “A number just walked in.”
      Vanning leaned far over the bar and studied the glass and its contents. Without fully knowing why, he said nastily, “Numbers are always walking in.”
      “This isn't bad.”
      “None of them are bad,” Vanning said. “They're all wonderful.”
      “I just thought I'd mention it.”
      “Thanks,” Vanning said. “Thanks for mentioning it.”
      The fat fellow shrugged and put some beer down his throat. He was quiet for a little while and then he said, “Too bad you're not interested.”
      “Why?”
      “She is.”
      “That's nice,” Vanning said. “It always builds the ego.”
      “I wish she was looking at me.”
      “Maybe I'm in the way.”
      “Oh, that's all right,” the fat fellow said.
      “No, really.” And Vanning gave a brief, quiet laugh. “I'll move on down the bar. Or I'll take a walk outside. Anything you like.”
      “Don't do that. It wouldn't help me. I'm not her speed.”
      The nastiness cruised away. Vanning turned to the fat fellow and said sympathetically, “Now why carry on like that?”
      “Oh, cut it out,” the fat fellow said morosely. “I'm just a fat slob and I don't have enough brains to make people overlook it.”
      “Glands?”
      “No, not glands. Appetite. I've had six meals already today and the night is still young. I'd have as much chance with that item as Eskimos in the Sahara.”
      “Go on,” Vanning said, a little amused. “It isn't that hopeless. Give it a try. Nothing ventured—”
      “Yes, I know all about that, and if I thought there was one chance in a thousand of getting a hello, I'd start an operation. But if I ever saw a hopeless state of affairs, this is it. I'm not in that league. Take a look at her and you'll see what I mean.”
      “Don't let them scare you,” Vanning said, again lifting the glass. “They're not poison.”
      “Maybe you could sell me on that, but the way you say it, you don't mean it. You've been hurt, brother, you can't kid me. You've been hurt plenty.”
      Vanning's hand tightened around the glass. He put it down. He tapped ten fingers on the surface of the bar and took a deep breath and gazed straight ahead. “All right,” he said. “What about it?”
      “Nothing,” the beer drinker said. “I've been hurt too.”
      “That's a shame. Should we start crying on each other's shoulder or do you think maybe it's a good idea to skip the whole thing? Have another beer?”
      “She sure is looking at you.”
      “All right, then,” Vanning said, “don't have another beer. And do me a favor. Don't give me a play-by-play of what's taking place at the end of the bar.”
      “I bet I know what's the matter.” And the fat fellow wore a gleeful, shrewd little smile. “You're one of those bashful guys. I bet you're afraid.”
      “Afraid?”
      “That's what I said.”
      “Afraid,” Vanning murmured. He gripped the rounded edge of the bar. “Afraid. I'm afraid.”
      The beer drinker waited a while, and then he said, “I beg your pardon, friend, but would you mind telling me what the hell is wrong with you?”
      “I'm afraid,” Vanning said.
      “I'm going out for a sandwich,” the fat fellow said. “Food settles all my problems, and yet my biggest problem is food itself. That's the way it goes, my friend, and I tell you it's a vicious circle, it certainly is.”
      “I guess so,” Vanning said.
      The fat fellow was paying his check, turning away from the bar, walking toward the door. Vanning watched him, and then Vanning's eyes hopped away and to the side and toward