Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 143382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
“No,” Mr. Shithead said to her tits.
I sighed again, which was what I needed to do instead of slapping his gaze into another dimension.
“If you hear of them, would you call us?” Raye asked, slipping a business card across the counter to him.
He stared at it like it would grow a hundred legs and start crawling.
“Yo!” I called.
His eyes shot to me.
“She asked, if you hear of them, will you call us?” I restated.
“What do I get if I do?” he retorted.
“More dirty magazines?” Harlow offered shyly.
“I want you all to show me your tits,” he returned.
Harlow gasped as she drew back.
I grabbed Harlow’s sleeve and said, “Byeeeee,” as I dragged her toward the door, Raye and Luna following.
“No! Wait!” he called. We all stopped, turned and looked back. “Mags are good. Films are better.”
“Spanking?” I queried.
He didn’t quite meet my eyes. “Whatever.”
It was spanking.
“You got it,” I agreed.
We then walked out the door.
We’d taken positions, leaning in a line on one side of the Sportage, to wait for Jinx, when Luna decreed, “I’ve decided. Only comic porn for me. Because he’s just…gross.”
“Word on that, sister,” Raye replied.
“Ulk,” Harlow gagged.
I didn’t know if her gag was about porn in general, or the clear evidence we’d just witnessed from Mr. Shithead about how it felt skeevy he got off on it, no matter how consensual it was, and women got paid (hopefully) a fair wage to do it.
I also didn’t ask.
I put the sole of one of my Vans up to the side of the SUV, crossed my arms and aimed my eyes at the top deck of the motel, at room twenty-one.
There was general chitchat that I didn’t participate in, mostly because I had my mind on other things.
Primarily the fact that Eric had said, “Tonight.”
However, it was Raye who told me Homer had shared how he and the General knew where I worked. And as with the rest of the day, outside of him rolling up to The Surf Club to give Homer and the General a ride back to the camp, I’d heard not a thing from him.
Was he playing games?
Or was he busy?
“Heads up,” Raye said low.
I focused and saw a white guy, maybe mid-forties, dressed in nice jeans and still tucking in a button down that he wore under a sweater into his jeans, hustling out of room twenty-one.
He wore glasses and looked like a mild-mannered accountant, and he wasn’t unattractive, so he could totally score and not pay for it.
Unless he was married and getting his kicks elsewhere, but he wasn’t wearing a wedding band.
The world always surprised me, and usually it wasn’t in awesome ways.
By the time he made it to the ground level, he had eyes on us, and he didn’t take them away.
Maybe because we were all staring at him.
He pulled out in a well-maintained BMW (totally an accountant) and was idling at the entrance, his left turn signal on, when Jinx sashayed out in platform heels, a leather jacket she had tugged closed at the front, and a stretch micro-mini covering her ass.
Also, she had sex hair.
Then again, Jinx always had sex hair, both by design…and by profession.
She did a massive eye roll they could probably see from space when she spotted us before she took her time strolling down the walkway, the steps, and across the parking lot to where we’d pushed away from the Sportage to gather and wait for her arrival.
“You gringas are bad for business,” she griped in greeting.
“Was he a regular?” Raye asked.
“Not yet. But I hope he will be since he’s gotta be new, ’cause I charged him ten bucks more than the usual and he didn’t blink.” She paused before she finished, “And he gave me a big tip and he has a big dick.”
“Nice,” Luna drawled.
“What you bitches doin’ here?” Jinx asked.
“I called,” Luna told her.
“I know. The night’s been busy. This is good. I can get done before it gets too cold,” Jinx replied.
“Right then, we won’t take a lot of your time,” I said.
“Excelente,” Jinx muttered.
“Have you heard of the Street Warriors?” I asked.
She tipped her head to the side. “Is that a gang?”
God, I hoped my brother didn’t join a gang.
“I don’t think so,” I told her.
“Why you askin’?” she queried.
“My brother is missing. I’m worried he’s sleeping rough. He has mental health issues,” I shared.
Jinx tried to hide it, but the flash of compassion showed in her face before she nodded curtly.
“And I got some information he’s a Street Warrior,” I went on.
“Never heard of them, linda,” she said quietly.
That was a gift. Right on display.
Jinx was a tough nut.
But still.
She liked us.
And there was the evidence.
No matter the stereotype of women in her profession, the truth of it was, under that street smart exterior, lay a heart of gold.