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I was staring down nurses necklines.
Well, I said, seems to me you came through okay. Here you are, a normal man, making good money,
no real troubles. And the life of a female is not an easy one."
He glared at me. A lot you know about it!
So?
Ever hear the expression a ruined woman ?
Mmm, years ago. Doesn t mean much today.
I was as ruined as a woman can be; that bastardreally ruined me I was no longer a woman . . . and I
didn t knowhow to be a man.
Takes getting used to, I suppose.
You have no idea. I don t mean learning how to dress, or not walking into the wrong rest room; I
learned those in the hospital. But how could Ilive? What job could I get? Hell, I couldn t even drive a
car. I didn t know a trade; I couldn t do manual labor too much scar tissue, too tender.
I hated him for having ruined me for the W.E.N.C.H.E.S., too, but I didn t know how much until I tried
to join the Space Corps instead. One look at my belly and I was marked unfit for military service. The
medical officer spent time on me just from curiosity; he had read about my case.
So I changed my name and came to New York. I got by as a fry cook, then rented a typewriter and
set myself up as a public stenographer what a laugh! In four months I typed four letters and one
manuscript. The manuscript was forReal Life Tales and a waste of paper, but the goof who wrote it,
sold it. Which gave me an idea; I bought a stack of confession magazines and studied them. He looked
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cynical. Now you know how I get the authentic woman s angle on an unmarried-mother story . . .
through the only version I haven t sold the true one. Do I win the bottle?
I pushed it toward him. I was upset myself, but there was work to do. I said, Son, you still want to lay
hands on that so-and-so?
His eyes lighted up a feral gleam.
Hold it! I said. You wouldn t kill him?
He chuckled nastily. Try me.
Take it easy. I know more about it than you think I do. I can help you. I know where he is.
He reached across the bar. Where is he?
I said softly, Let go my shirt, sonny or you ll land in the alley and we ll tell the cops you fainted. I
showed him the sap.
He let go. Sorry. But where is he? He looked at me. And how do you know so much?
All in good time. There are records hospital records, orphanage records, medical records. The
matron of your orphanage was Mrs. Fetherage right? She was followed by Mrs. Gruenstein right?
Your name, as a girl, was Jane right? And you didn t tell me any of this right?
I had him baffled and a bit scared. What s this? You trying to make trouble for me?
No indeed. I ve your welfare at heart. I can put this character in your lap. You do to him as you see
fit and I guarantee that you ll get away with it. But I don t think you ll kill him. You d be nuts to and
you aren t nuts. Not quite.
He brushed it aside. Cut the noise.Where is he?
I poured him a short one; he was drunk but anger was offsetting it. Not so fast. I do something for
you you do something for me.
Uh . . . what?
You don t like your work. What would you say to high pay, steady work, unlimited expense account,
your own boss on the job, and lots of variety and adventure?
He stared. I d say, Get those goddam reindeer off my roof! Shove it, Pop there s no such job.
Okay, put it this way: I hand him to you, you settle with him, then try my job. If it s not all I
claim well, I can t hold you.
He was wavering, the last drink did it. When d yuh d liver im? he said thickly.
If it s a deal right now!
He shoved out his hand. It s a deal!
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I nodded to my assistant to watch both ends, noted the time 2300 started to duck through the gate
under the bar when the juke box blared out: I m My Own Granpaw! The service man had orders to
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