How It Ended: New and Collected Stories (Vintage Contemporaries)
Jay McInerney
Language: English
Pages: 416
ISBN: 030738795X
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
From the writer whose first novel, Bright Lights, Big City, defined a generation, a collection of twenty-six stories, new and old, that trace the arc of his career for nearly three decades.
soft fabric. “Whose streets? Our streets!” Corrine took up the chant. Her anger was righteous and liberating. She was cold, her ears and toes prickly with numbness. If the cops were trying to incite the crowd to violence, they were doing a good job of it. “Whose streets? Our streets!” She was a peaceful person, the mother of two, but she felt like throwing something, breaking something, running amok. “Whose streets? Our streets!” Seeing all the angry faces, she had a sudden vision of chaos
would burst with rage and grief. I couldn't sleep for days. I imagined the two of them in every possible position, in every nuance of lust and carnality. I raged, wept, broke her entire collection of Staffordshire figurines, demanded an explanation. She sent the children to her mother's and I took three days off work. I couldn't eat, and when I did, I vomited. I asked if she still loved me and didn't believe her when she said she did. How could she fuck him if she loved me? I couldn't reconcile
nature. Despite the unexpected wrinkles around her eyes, or maybe because of them, I thought nobody could be more beautiful. I imagined that others, those who worshiped her from the movies, would be surprised by the wrinkles, whereas I could look beyond them. She was smoking a cigarette, and when she spoke, her voice was husky and low. “Wouldn't we like to play Mrs. Robinson to you,” she said. She unfolded her legs and leaned forward to pour more Champagne in her glass. She seemed a little worse
little pick-me-up. “You've got some blow?” she says. “Monster,” you say. She takes your arm and leads you into the Ladies’. There's another guy in the stall beside yours so it's okay. After a couple of spoons she seems to like you just fine and you're feeling pretty likable yourself. A couple more. This girl is all nose. When she leans forward for the spoon, the front of her shirt falls open and you can't help wondering if this is her way of thanking you. Oh yes. “I love drugs,” she says, as
bag open and the smell of warm dough rushes over you. The first bite sticks in your throat and you almost gag. You will have to go slowly. You will have to learn everything all over again. 1982 Smoke That summer in New York, everyone was wearing yellow ties. The stock market was coming into a long bull run; over plates of blackened redfish, artists and gourmet-shop proprietors exchanged prognostications on the Dow. And on the sidewalks noble dark men from Senegal were selling watches, jewelry