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wouldn't be going out with him.   Gloria had real values, Gloria was deeper than that.
    Jack sat up straight.   Gloria stepped out of Piggs.   Nikes and jeans, black T-shirt.   My, she looked fine, just as fine as she could be.   Jack started up the Plymouth.   It coughed and came to life.
    A big car took the corner fast, headlights swept the empty street.   The car swerved over to the curb, jerked to a halt.     Someone got out.
    Jack's heart stopped.   Cecil said something to Gloria.   Gloria stood there a minute, talking to Cecil, then got in the car.   The door slammed shut, the Caddie took off, a lizard-green monster roaring through the night.
    The street was still again.   It was over quick as that.   Jack could scarcely believe it had happened, but it did.   The lightning flashed again, closer now, thunder rolling overhead.   Two fat drops struck Juan Ortega's car.
    Seeing her get in Cecil's Caddie shook him up, shook him up bad.   He knew, though, knew in his heart, that Gloria's actions were mostly his fault.   He had known this was so for some time, that this was a failing in himself, a failing he must now face squarely, bring up to the light.   He had been too gentle, too easy, he had not asserted himself.   He vowed that he would start doing that.   Gloria had to quit stalling, had to let him take her out.   They would never get anywhere until she did that.   Then, they would get a lot closer, get to know each other well.   They could talk about the future, make plans to settle down.   Jack wished there was some other way, some way besides the dating part, which was such a fucking hassle every time, but he didn't see how he could get around that...

Chapter Eleven
     
    S he wasn't real mad.   Wasn't real happy, either, sitting in back of the green Cadillac with Cecil R. Dupree.   Cecil, absolutely gross, straw hat and overalls, not even wearing a shirt, for Christ sake, white socks and Li'l Abner shoes.   Hoping, Gloria and everybody knew, that some poor jerk would take him for a rube.   Say something to him so Cecil could have Cat pound him into mush.   Or if the guy wasn't too big, do the job himself.
    It happened now and then, on the street or in a store.   It happened in Austin, Waco or Dallas somewhere.   Where it never happened was in Mexican Wells, because everybody knew better there.
    "This is real good," Cecil said, "this is sure fine.   You and me are busy all the time, we never get a chance to talk."
    "I don't guess we do," Gloria said.
    "I was just thinking, Gloria and me, we don't get a chance to talk.   What I ought to do, I ought to give her a ride sometime, we could have the time to talk."
    "It's very nice of you, Mr. Dupree, you didn't have to do that."
    "'Course I didn't, I wanted to.   And Lord, not Mister Dupree."   Cecil gave a little laugh.   "I feel old, a young lady calls me that.   'Mister,' is something you don't want to hear, you get as old as me."
    "Oh, I don't think I could."
    "Do what?"
    "Call you that.   I feel it would be a presumption on my part, me being in your employment and all."
    "Well as your employer, I say it's Cecil, I say it's all right."
    "If you say so."
    "Well I do."
    "All right."
    "Say it."
    "Do what?"
    "Say it.   Say 'Cecil.'"
    "You mean, just come out and say it?   Nothing else with it, just by itself?"
    "Just say it."
    "All by itself."
    "Jesus Christ, all by itself'd   be fine."
    "Cecil."
    "What?"
    "Cecil."
    "Now see, that sounds real nice.   And you are not presuming a thing, all right?   I assure you of that."
    Cecil assured her.   A pat on the knee, a tiny little squeeze an inch or so above that.
    Oh shit, here we go, Gloria said to herself, none of this coming as any big surprise, a road she'd been down once or twice before.   A guy runs a club, runs a place like Piggs, he figures ladies of the unclad persuasion are inventory, like peanuts and beer.   You take a little sample now and then, make sure it's all