did at the airport, I don’t like people messing with me.”
“Sensitive. I like that in a man.”
I stopped walking.
She came to a gradual halt, faced me, unaffected by my size or temperament.
She asked, “So, who do you serve?”
“What?”
“Well, Mr. Agnostic, everybody serves somebody. Man, woman, Gold’s Gym ... everyone has a master. Who do you serve?”
I didn’t answer. Wasn’t in the mood for a survey.
She started back walking, went back to moving her sugar like it was so sweet. I reined in my temper, followed her lazy tempo. She was messing with my head, trying to control the pace of the meeting. Good salespeople were taught to manipulate the customer.
Halfway down the long corridor she slowed down, pushed open a brown apartment door. Classical music and the scent of cloves met us. The music was playing low. I followed her into the unknown, the weight in the small of my back told me we could handle it. Lamps in the front room were on low. Everything beyond the bedroom door was a shadow. Nobody was in the small kitchen or living room, didn’t hear anybody talking. She locked the door behind me.
She asked, “Something to drink?”
I licked my lips. “Any JD?”
“Don’t think there’s much more than water here.”
She didn’t know what was in the cabinets. That told me that this wasn’t her nest.
“Water’s nasty.” I shook my head. “Fish have sex in it.”
Then I stood next to the barstool at the kitchen counter. Dirty dishes were in the sink. Linoleum floor needed to be visited by a mop, soap, and water. Headshots were on the counter. The face of the woman I’d seen with Arizona at LAX smiled up at me. A stack of movie scripts, magazines with casting calls, all of that stuff was piled up on the kitchen table.
I motioned at the glossy vain images and said, “The pickpocket.”
“My girl got you good.”
“She got lucky.”
“That’s a Pee-Wee Herman excuse.”
Arizona vanished for a moment, went into the bedroom. My eyes checked out the rest of the room. Stacks of books were on the glass coffee table. Freeman’s Dawning of Ignorance was on top, a red bookmark halfway through. Freeman’s other books were on that table too. Heard her in the bedroom opening drawers in the dark. Then another. Searching for something. She came back holding a plastic container, a rectangular Tupperware thing for picnic sandwiches.
Inside were at least twenty wallets.
Arizona said, “Freeman drew a nice crowd. My girl had a good day today.”
“LAX?”
“Yup. She can bump and lift with two fingers.”
I didn’t touch her pirate’s treasure. Didn’t want my fingerprints on the plastic or the merchandise. I asked, “What you do with the credit cards and IDs?”
“Fenced ‘em as soon as we left the airport.”
“That’s why you had to jet away from LAX.”
“Couldn’t let them go cold.”
A folded play announcement slept on the counter. The Graduate. She saw me staring at it, then moved it out of the way, opened a drawer filled with junk, dropped it inside.
I deepened my tone. “Let’s get to the business.”
My tone was rough. Arizona didn’t flinch. I didn’t move.
She gave me a pleasant expression. “I like that about you. So direct.”
She reached into her black purse and pulled out a red box of cigarettes. She lit one up. I expected a stench, but it had a nice aroma. Took me a moment to make out the scent of cloves. Underneath her cool façade, she was pissed off that I hadn’t given in as fast as she wanted me to.
She did the gamming, told me she wanted to get the briefcase Freeman had shackled to his wrist. Steal it. Hold it for ransom. I listened. No more than two minutes went by.
I said, “I mean, if it’s a damn book and ... what, how do you ransom ... ?”
Before she could answer I stood up. I walked to Arizona, moved with intention.
I whispered, “Take your clothes off.”
She looked in my non-blinking eyes, stared deep, and smiled.
She took off her blouse. My eyes went over her honey brown skin, took in her breasts. She dropped her skirt. She wore no panties. Stood in front of me unashamed and bare.
I said, “Turn around.”
She raised her arms over her head, stood on her tiptoes and did a slow three-sixty. A colorful scorpion was on her back, a henna, not a real tattoo. She had soft and sturdy legs, straight with a little bow in them, strong calves, not much in the hips department, a modest ass that