But Eileen could see the sudden spark of ambition in his eyes. Blue to match the blue in the tattooed heart near his thumb. Seriously considering the possibility now. Take them
She didn't want a civilian getting in the way.
She had to get rid of Sheryl.
"I don't work doubles," she said.
A risk.
"How come?" Bobby asked.
"Why should I share this?" she said, and put her left hand on his thigh. He thought she was going for the meat. She was frisking him for the knife. Found it, too. Outlined in his right-hand pants pocket, felt like a six-incher at least. Maybe eight.
A shiver ran up her spine.
Sheryl was getting nervous. Her eyes flicked up to the clock again. The twenty minutes were gone, and she didn't see another twenty bucks coming out of his wallet. She was afraid she'd already lost him. So she tried again, appealing not to
"Change your mind, Linda," she said.
There was something almost plaintive in her voice.
"Come on, okay? It'll be fun."
"I think Linda might be more fun alone," Bobby said.
Eileen's hand was still on his thigh. Off the knife now, like finding the knife was an accident. Fingers spread toward his crotch.
Sheryl looked up at the clock again.
"Tell you what," she said. "I'll make it only ten bucks for the next twenty minutes, how's that? We'll sit here, I'll let you tell me some more of your jokes, be a lot of fun, what do you say?"
A last desperate try.
"I say it's up to Linda here. What do you say, Linda?"
"I told you. I don't do doubles."
Flat out. Get rid of her.
"You heard her," he said.
"Hey, come on, what kinda… ?"
"So long, Sheryl," he said.
She got off the stool at once.
"You're some cunt, you know that?" she said to Eileen, and turned away angrily and walked toward a table where three men were sitting drinking beer. "Who wants me?" she said angrily, and pulled out a chair and sat.
"I hate it when the fun goes out of it," Bobby said.
"We'll have lots of fun, don't worry," Eileen whispered, and tightened her hand on his thigh. "You want to get out of here this minute? I get ten bucks for a handjob…"
"No, no, let's talk a while, okay?" He reached into his right hip pocket, pulled out his wallet. Big killer, she thought, keeps his wallet in the sucker pocket. "Same deal as with Sheryl, okay? A buck a minute, here's a twenty"—reaching into the wallet, pulling out a bill, looking up at the clock—"we'll see how it goes, okay?"
"What is this?" Eileen asked. "An audition?"
"Well, I'd like to get to know you a little before I…"
He cut himself short.
"Before you what?" she said.
"You know," he said, and smiled, and lowered his voice. "Do it to you."
"What would you like to do to me, Bobby?"
"New and exciting things," he said.
She looked into his eyes.
Another shiver ran up her back.
"You cold?" he asked.
"A little. The weather's changing all of a sudden."
"Here," he said. "Take my jacket."
He shrugged out of the jacket. Tweed. He was wearing a blue flannel shirt under it, open at the throat. Blue to match his eyes and the tattooed heart near his thumb. He draped the jacket over her shoulders. There was the smell of death on the jacket, as palpable as the odor of smoke hanging on the air. She shivered again.
"So what do you say?" he asked her. "A buck a minute, does that sound all right?"
"Sure," she said.
"Well, good," he said, and handed her the twenty-dollar bill.
"Thanks," she said, and looked up at the clock. "This buys you till twenty past," she said, and tucked the bill into her bra. She didn't want to open her bag. She didn't want to risk him spotting the .44 in her bag, under the silk scarf. She was going to blow his brains out with that gun.
"Nothing for our friendly barkeep?" he asked.
"Huh?"
"I thought he got twenty percent."
"Oh. No, we have an arrangement."
"Well, good. I'd hate to think you were cheating him. You don't cheat people, do you, Linda?"
"I try to give good value," she said.
"Good. 'Cause you promised me a lot of fun, didn't you?"
"Show you a real good time," she said, and nodded.
Across the room, Annie was in conversation with the frizzied brunette who'd earlier partnered with Sheryl. The place was beginning to thin out a bit. There'd be a new shift coming in, Eileen guessed, the morning people, the denizens of the empty hours. He'd paid for twenty minutes of her time, but he'd dumped Sheryl without a backward glance, and she couldn't risk losing him to any of the other girls here. Twenty minutes unless he laid another bill on the bar. Twenty minutes to get him outside on the street, where he'd moved on the other three women. Show him a real good time, all right. Punish him for what he'd done. Make him pay for the three women he'd killed. Make him pay, too, for what a man named Arthur Haines had done to her face… and her body… and her spirit.
