do?”
“Eventually,” O’Boyle said, “we’ll probably have to go to the police.”
“You’re kidding.”
“You want to give them a hundred thousand dollars?”
“I want to give them two feet of pipe across the head.”
“Let me work on it,” O’Boyle said. “I’ll talk to a guy I know in the prosecutor’s office and find out the procedure.”
“Not like drawing up a contract, is it?”
“I’ll admit it’s been a while since I’ve done any criminal work.”
“Just suppose,” Mitchell said, “what if I pay them and forget about it?”
“You know better than that. If you pay they won’t let you forget about it. You’ll pay forever.”
“But if I don’t, then people find out.” Mitchell saw his wife on the patio in her housecoat. She always looked good. In the cold morning light she looked good.
“Let’s wait and see what happens.”
“I guess I ought to tell Barbara.”
O’Boyle, getting fifty dollars an hour for his advice, thought about it a moment. “Mitch, I wouldn’t say anything that you don’t have to. Not yet, anyway. These guys could chicken out for some reason, get scared, change their mind. The whole thing could blow over like it never happened.”
“The clouds break and the blue sky appears.”
“Mitch, no one ever got in trouble keeping his mouth shut.”
That was all the advice he could buy for one day. Some encouragement, but not much. Maybe there was something he could do about it himself. He wasn’t going to sit here thinking about it.
4
----
IT HAD BEEN A SPORTING GOODS STORE AT ONE TIME —Mitchell remembered it because he had stolen a baseball glove from the place when he was in the seventh grade and his dad was working at the Ford Highland Park plant. It was on Woodward six miles from downtown in a block of dirty sixty-year-old storefronts. The showcase windows of the sporting goods store were painted black now and whitewash lettering four feet high read, nude models.
The girls sat around the lobby in aluminum porch furniture with green-and-yellow-plaid cushions. They weren’t bad-looking, they weren’t especially good-looking. They were girls in their early twenties who could have been waitresses or countergirls at a dry cleaner’s. On the walls were nude photos of girls, but not of any of the girls who were in the room now. A customer walked over to a secondhand office-desk, paid the man in the swivel chair fifteen dollars, renteda Polaroid for five more if he wanted to or if there were any cameras working or any film available, and then would pick a girl and go down the hall to one of the eight-by-ten cubicles, or studios, as the girls called them.
The first time Mitchell came here he rented a camera and picked Cini right away, though without giving any indication that he knew her. He remembered being very self-conscious walking into the place and paying the fifteen dollars. Cini grinned but didn’t say his name until they were in the room and she was taking off her sweater and jeans. She didn’t wear anything under them. It was the first time he had seen her naked. She smiled again and asked if he was really going to take pictures. He said he thought that’s what you were supposed to do. She said most of the guys just sat in the chair and stared at her boobs and crotch. Sometimes they’d ask her to lie down on the cot and put her legs apart, but very few of them ever brought a camera or rented one. Mitchell asked her if the guys ever tried anything. She said yes, sometimes; but most of the guys were creepy; they were nervous and mostly just wanted to look. There was a sign on the wall that read, look or take pictures but no touching.
Really? Mitchell asked her. None of the girls put out? Probably, Cini said. She never discussed it with them. It wasan easy way to make a hundred and fifty a week, part-time, and not have to worry about getting arrested. It was more than she needed to pay for school and to live on. She said she was glad she
“Eventually,” O’Boyle said, “we’ll probably have to go to the police.”
“You’re kidding.”
“You want to give them a hundred thousand dollars?”
“I want to give them two feet of pipe across the head.”
“Let me work on it,” O’Boyle said. “I’ll talk to a guy I know in the prosecutor’s office and find out the procedure.”
“Not like drawing up a contract, is it?”
“I’ll admit it’s been a while since I’ve done any criminal work.”
“Just suppose,” Mitchell said, “what if I pay them and forget about it?”
“You know better than that. If you pay they won’t let you forget about it. You’ll pay forever.”
“But if I don’t, then people find out.” Mitchell saw his wife on the patio in her housecoat. She always looked good. In the cold morning light she looked good.
“Let’s wait and see what happens.”
“I guess I ought to tell Barbara.”
O’Boyle, getting fifty dollars an hour for his advice, thought about it a moment. “Mitch, I wouldn’t say anything that you don’t have to. Not yet, anyway. These guys could chicken out for some reason, get scared, change their mind. The whole thing could blow over like it never happened.”
“The clouds break and the blue sky appears.”
“Mitch, no one ever got in trouble keeping his mouth shut.”
That was all the advice he could buy for one day. Some encouragement, but not much. Maybe there was something he could do about it himself. He wasn’t going to sit here thinking about it.
4
----
IT HAD BEEN A SPORTING GOODS STORE AT ONE TIME —Mitchell remembered it because he had stolen a baseball glove from the place when he was in the seventh grade and his dad was working at the Ford Highland Park plant. It was on Woodward six miles from downtown in a block of dirty sixty-year-old storefronts. The showcase windows of the sporting goods store were painted black now and whitewash lettering four feet high read, nude models.
The girls sat around the lobby in aluminum porch furniture with green-and-yellow-plaid cushions. They weren’t bad-looking, they weren’t especially good-looking. They were girls in their early twenties who could have been waitresses or countergirls at a dry cleaner’s. On the walls were nude photos of girls, but not of any of the girls who were in the room now. A customer walked over to a secondhand office-desk, paid the man in the swivel chair fifteen dollars, renteda Polaroid for five more if he wanted to or if there were any cameras working or any film available, and then would pick a girl and go down the hall to one of the eight-by-ten cubicles, or studios, as the girls called them.
The first time Mitchell came here he rented a camera and picked Cini right away, though without giving any indication that he knew her. He remembered being very self-conscious walking into the place and paying the fifteen dollars. Cini grinned but didn’t say his name until they were in the room and she was taking off her sweater and jeans. She didn’t wear anything under them. It was the first time he had seen her naked. She smiled again and asked if he was really going to take pictures. He said he thought that’s what you were supposed to do. She said most of the guys just sat in the chair and stared at her boobs and crotch. Sometimes they’d ask her to lie down on the cot and put her legs apart, but very few of them ever brought a camera or rented one. Mitchell asked her if the guys ever tried anything. She said yes, sometimes; but most of the guys were creepy; they were nervous and mostly just wanted to look. There was a sign on the wall that read, look or take pictures but no touching.
Really? Mitchell asked her. None of the girls put out? Probably, Cini said. She never discussed it with them. It wasan easy way to make a hundred and fifty a week, part-time, and not have to worry about getting arrested. It was more than she needed to pay for school and to live on. She said she was glad she
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