The Big Bounce
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Jack Ryan always wanted to play pro ball. But he couldn't hit a curveball, so he turned his attention to less legal pursuits. A tough guy who likes walking the razor's edge, he's just met his match -- and more -- in Nancy. She's a rich man's plaything, seriously into thrills and risk, and together she and Jack are pure heat ready to explode. But when simple housebreaking and burglary give way to the deadly pursuit of a really big score, the stakes suddenly skyrocket. Because violence and double-cross are the name of this game -- and it's going to take every ounce of cunning Jack and Nancy possess to survive . . . each other.
dills and hamburger slices and those little gerkins. They put the pickles in jars and sell them. But, boy, what they don’t put in jars and sell are cucumbers. Big grown cucumbers. That means they got to get the cucumbers picked before they’re full-grown. That means they got to hurry this time of year to get the crop in. But they ain’t going to get it in with the goddamn pickers sitting around in any goddamn courtroom. You see it now?” “Well, the quicker I get my gear, the quicker I’m gone.” Ryan
just two years out of it, sitting around, made a difference.” Mr. Majestyk grinned. “You feel it already. Just wait, buddy.” He looked up at the sky and said then, “It’s going to rain. When it starts to blow like that.” Ryan looked up. “The sun’s out.” “Not for long,” Mr. Majestyk said. “You might as well go into town and get the paint; you won’t be able to work outside.” “What paint?” “Paint. What do you mean, what paint?” “How do I know what paint you’re talking about?” “I’ll tell you,”
in bed.” “Maybe they’re on the porch.” “Maybe,” she said. “Of course where the lights are on, they might still not be home. I always leave a light on.” “I guess most people do.” “So we’ll have to go up close and take a look.” She was at ease, Ryan could feel that. He couldn’t imagine her not at ease. But she still could be faking it. It was still talking and not doing and there were a few miles of nerve between the two. “Which house?” Ryan said. “I was thinking that dark one.” “Let’s go.”
best moonshine in the area, but it was rumored that he had hidden somewhere on his hill farm his old daddy’s cache of 150 barrels of eight-year old corn whiskey. Of course nobody had ever found any of the liquor, but Son never said that it wasn’t there. Then one day the tranquility of Broke-Leg County was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Frank Long, an old army buddy of Son’s who knew about the whiskey and was not a Prohibition agent. But his presence had a different purpose than his
Get Shorty. And I was trying to work Chili Palmer into the dress business. I don’t know why except that I love runway shows. I gave up on that. And I saw that book again, The Splendid Little War, because I hadn’t returned it to my friend in ’57. And I thought, “I’m going to do that.” Yeah, the time has come. So, I did. Amis:In a famous essay, Tom Wolfe said that the writers were missing all the real stories that were out there. And that they spent too much time searching for inspiration and