Над пропастью во ржи

           Imeanshewasquiteyoungandall,andmostgirlsifyouseethemputtingtheirhandonthebackofsomebody’sneck,they’rearoundtwenty-fiveorthirtyandusuallythey’redoingittotheirhusbandortheirlittlekid—IdoittomykidsisterPhoebeonceinawhile,forinstance.Butifagirl’squiteyoungandallandshedoesit,it’ssoprettyitjustaboutkillsyou.

           Anyway,that’swhatIwasthinkingaboutwhileIsatinthatvomity-lookingchairinthelobby.OldJane.EverytimeIgottothepartaboutheroutwithStradlaterinthatdamnEdBanky’scar,italmostdrovemecrazy.Iknewshewouldn’tlethimgettofirstbasewithher,butitdrovemecrazyanyway.Idon’tevenliketotalkaboutit,ifyouwanttoknowthetruth.

           Therewashardlyanybodyinthelobbyanymore.Evenallthewhory-lookingblondesweren’taroundanymore,andallofasuddenIfeltlikegettingthehelloutoftheplace.Itwastoodepressing.AndIwasn’ttiredoranything.SoIwentuptomyroomandputonmycoat.Ialsotookalookoutthewindowtoseeifallthepervertswerestillinaction,butthelightsandallwereoutnow.IwentdownintheelevatoragainandgotacabandtoldthedrivertotakemedowntoErnie’s.Ernie’sisthisnightclubinGreenwichVillagethatmybrotherD.B.usedtogotoquitefrequentlybeforehewentouttoHollywoodandprostitutedhimself.Heusedtotakemewithhimonceinawhile.Ernie’sabigfatcoloredguythatplaysthepiano.He’saterrificsnobandhewon’thardlyeventalktoyouunlessyou’reabigshotoracelebrityorsomething,buthecanreallyplaythepiano.