baby?”
“Nope.”
“Pretty thing like you? I don’t believe it.”
“Believe it.” She crossed her arms as she looked down at him. “Are you comfortable, Mr. Lam?”
“Not as comfortable as I’d be if you climbed in here beside me.”
She laughed. “Mr. Lam, remember what I told you at the dealership?”
Charlie smiled as he shook his head. He couldn’t recall a word she’d said.
“I’m not a whore. I have morals.”
“ ’Course you do,” Charlie said, though there was obviously something going on here. A gal that pretty only worked a job like this for one reason. Five years in, she should be up to her tits in doctors.
Maybe she liked them a bit more rough around the edges. He said, “You’re gorgeous. You know that?”
“And you’re a little fat. And you’re old enough to be my father. And I think your fever’s about to spike again.”
Charlie heard maybe every other word. He rubbed his hand up her arm. It was always better when they were a challenge. “Come on, baby. Let’s see if we can loosen those morals.”
She gave a sigh of playful exasperation. “You didn’t learn a goddamn thing, did you?”
Charlie let his hand slide to her hip. She didn’t stop him, so he cupped her ass cheek. Jesus, she was tight. He could feel the muscle working under his palm as she leaned over the bed. Charlie looked up at the glorious mounds of her breasts. He opened his mouth, but she pulled back before he could do anything with it.
She had his IV tube in one hand and a syringe in the other.
Charlie felt a flicker of panic. “What are you doing?”
She tapped her thumb against the tip of the plunger. “Oh, you’re listening to me now, aren’t you? Not blocking out the sound of my voice. Not leering at my chest. Lucky me. I’ve got your undivided attention.”
He stared at the pink liquid in the syringe. “What is that?”
“It’s the curse, Charlie. It’s what sends you back.”
His blood ran cold. “What?”
“You assholes think you’re so fucking tough, but the minute the chips are down, you always, always,
always
take the easy way out.”
“What are you—”
“You think a woman walks around all the time with a knife in her pocket? Some guy pushes her around or makes her feel threatened or tries to rape her and all she has to do is whip out that knife to stop it?” She answered her own question. “No, asshole. She takes whatever the guy forces on her. She takes the pain and the humiliation and then she gets up for work the next morning. Or she goes to school. She takes care of her business. But she can’t look her father inthe eye. She can’t tell her friends about it. She can’t explain how she got caught up in the situation or why she was there in the first place or why she didn’t fight more or why she fought too much.” She shook her head. “Sweet Jesus, if only she’d had a handy-dandy knife.”
“I don’t—”
“You think a senior-year nursing student has a knife handy when a disgusting, middle-aged slumlord with a comb-over decides he’s gonna take out the rent in pussy?”
She went quiet so he could answer.
Charlie didn’t have an answer. He was listening to the Carpenters. “Ticket to Ride.” The vegetable Jew in the next room. “Finkelmeyer.”
“
That
asshole. I thought you were the stupid one, Chicken Man. Every time he wakes up, he’s the same jerk he was to begin with. He’s never going to learn.”
“Learn what?”
“What? What?” she mocked. “What do you say to a woman with two black eyes?”
He shook his head so furiously that saliva flew out of his mouth.
“You say, ‘Why didn’t you listen the first time?’ ” She threw back her head and laughed. “Get it? It’s funny, right? It’s funny because it actually happens. People never learn the first time, or the second time, or on and on and on. They don’t really want to change. Especially the ones who know they need it. Am I right, sweetheart? Honey? Baby?
“Nope.”
“Pretty thing like you? I don’t believe it.”
“Believe it.” She crossed her arms as she looked down at him. “Are you comfortable, Mr. Lam?”
“Not as comfortable as I’d be if you climbed in here beside me.”
She laughed. “Mr. Lam, remember what I told you at the dealership?”
Charlie smiled as he shook his head. He couldn’t recall a word she’d said.
“I’m not a whore. I have morals.”
“ ’Course you do,” Charlie said, though there was obviously something going on here. A gal that pretty only worked a job like this for one reason. Five years in, she should be up to her tits in doctors.
Maybe she liked them a bit more rough around the edges. He said, “You’re gorgeous. You know that?”
“And you’re a little fat. And you’re old enough to be my father. And I think your fever’s about to spike again.”
Charlie heard maybe every other word. He rubbed his hand up her arm. It was always better when they were a challenge. “Come on, baby. Let’s see if we can loosen those morals.”
She gave a sigh of playful exasperation. “You didn’t learn a goddamn thing, did you?”
Charlie let his hand slide to her hip. She didn’t stop him, so he cupped her ass cheek. Jesus, she was tight. He could feel the muscle working under his palm as she leaned over the bed. Charlie looked up at the glorious mounds of her breasts. He opened his mouth, but she pulled back before he could do anything with it.
She had his IV tube in one hand and a syringe in the other.
Charlie felt a flicker of panic. “What are you doing?”
She tapped her thumb against the tip of the plunger. “Oh, you’re listening to me now, aren’t you? Not blocking out the sound of my voice. Not leering at my chest. Lucky me. I’ve got your undivided attention.”
He stared at the pink liquid in the syringe. “What is that?”
“It’s the curse, Charlie. It’s what sends you back.”
His blood ran cold. “What?”
“You assholes think you’re so fucking tough, but the minute the chips are down, you always, always,
always
take the easy way out.”
“What are you—”
“You think a woman walks around all the time with a knife in her pocket? Some guy pushes her around or makes her feel threatened or tries to rape her and all she has to do is whip out that knife to stop it?” She answered her own question. “No, asshole. She takes whatever the guy forces on her. She takes the pain and the humiliation and then she gets up for work the next morning. Or she goes to school. She takes care of her business. But she can’t look her father inthe eye. She can’t tell her friends about it. She can’t explain how she got caught up in the situation or why she was there in the first place or why she didn’t fight more or why she fought too much.” She shook her head. “Sweet Jesus, if only she’d had a handy-dandy knife.”
“I don’t—”
“You think a senior-year nursing student has a knife handy when a disgusting, middle-aged slumlord with a comb-over decides he’s gonna take out the rent in pussy?”
She went quiet so he could answer.
Charlie didn’t have an answer. He was listening to the Carpenters. “Ticket to Ride.” The vegetable Jew in the next room. “Finkelmeyer.”
“
That
asshole. I thought you were the stupid one, Chicken Man. Every time he wakes up, he’s the same jerk he was to begin with. He’s never going to learn.”
“Learn what?”
“What? What?” she mocked. “What do you say to a woman with two black eyes?”
He shook his head so furiously that saliva flew out of his mouth.
“You say, ‘Why didn’t you listen the first time?’ ” She threw back her head and laughed. “Get it? It’s funny, right? It’s funny because it actually happens. People never learn the first time, or the second time, or on and on and on. They don’t really want to change. Especially the ones who know they need it. Am I right, sweetheart? Honey? Baby?
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