The man laughed and was joined by another.

The man who was holding what Chuck had to assume to be a gun to his head pushed his face into the earth, and Chuck felt grass and damp soil fill his mouth. ‘You choose,’ the man said.

So Chuck chose.

Two hours later he was back home. Shaking, piss-stained, with the real taste of Texas between his teeth – and with enough money in his pocket to put a down-payment on a neat little Toyota Rav 4.

13

‘OFFICIAL BUSINESS AGAIN, Pal?’

Tom cursed his luck as he turned to see the manager of the Sawmill grinning. Tom ignored him.

‘Lucia’s in tonight, stud.’ Tom ignored him some more but felt a warm glow at the information. He bought a six-dollar beer and found a table near the stage where two hard-bodied redheads were faking a lesbian thing.

They were followed by the same blonde he’d seen before, and a statuesque black girl, who was obviously a favourite with the crowds, judging by the amount of money she scooped up after her show.

Tom resolutely refused to tip any of them more than five bucks. He was keeping his powder dry.

Finally Lucia appeared and Tom felt the comforting glow of knowing he’d been right to make the drive to Santa Ana. She looked soft and pretty, especially alongside her dance partner, a painfully thin Korean, whose sinews ridged the skin of her pelvis.

Among the other customers there was a definite feeling of anti-climax after the tall black girl had gone, and many drifted to the bar as the two new girls started to dance.

The Korean gyrated hard and fast, her face a mask. Lucia was again lost in herself as she performed, her eyes distant.

When the music stopped and she spotted Tom, she smiled and he unexpectedly felt himself blush.

She made the rounds, collecting fives and tens, then stopped in front of him.

‘Hi,’ she said.

‘Hi.’ He was stuck for what to say next. He had a fifty in his hand but he forgot he was supposed to give it to her. Suddenly it seemed like the whole room could overhear them. If he spoke, everyone would hear his voice. He couldn’t do it.

Why was this so hard? Last time he’d just asked her to go for a drink with him and she’d said yes. Why was this different?

The Korean girl had collected her few tips and was walking offstage. Any moment now Lucia would follow her and his chance would be gone.

She saved him: ‘You want to buy me a drink with that?’

This time he actually did buy her a drink. Not at the club, but in a small bar she knew down the strip. She ordered a Coke and he didn’t press her to drink anything harder. He got a Jack Daniel’s because he needed the courage. Fucking a girl like Lucia was one thing; talking to her was a whole ’nother ball game.

‘It’s good to see you again.’

Her words surprised him. Then he remembered how little she’d had to do to earn her money last time and figured, No wonder.

Once again the silence stretched between them and Tom downed the Jack in one in a bid for help.

This was a bad idea. They should’ve gone straight to the Motel 6 where he knew exactly what was required of him. He didn’t find it this hard to talk to Ness. Maybe he should offer her fifty bucks for a blow-job …

The mental image of Ness on her knees in front of him forced words from his mouth to cover his sudden discomfort. ‘How’s work?’

‘Late.’ She smiled. ‘I never get enough sleep.’

He made himself believe she meant the dancing. He didn’t want to ask any more about her lifestyle, in case she told him.

‘How about you? What do you do?’

‘I’m an accountant.’

‘Really?’ She stared at him. ‘You don’t look like an accountant.’

‘Oh, yeah? What does an accountant look like?’

She studied him, from his faded blue polo shirt to his scuffed jeans and his Converse sneakers, and gave him a lopsided grin. ‘Like the anti-you!’

He laughed, then stopped short. It was so long since he’d heard that sound come from his own mouth that it had sounded strange to him.

‘What’s up?’ Her eyes were actually concerned.

‘Nothing. You’re funny, that’s all.’

She shrugged. ‘So. Public or management?’

‘Huh?’

Lucia half closed her eyes into a parody of suspicious slits. ‘What kind of accountant? Public or management? Or auditing? Or panicky, now that you realize you should’ve chosen to lie about a profession you actually know something about?’ Her tone was light and teasing and, instead of feeling defensive, Tom put up his hands in surrender and grinned.

‘Okay. I’m not an accountant.’

‘Let me guess what you are.’

At least that would mean an exchange where she had to come up with all the questions, he thought, and where his answers had only to stretch to ‘yes’ or ‘no’.

‘You’re like a cop but not a cop.’

Shit! This was going to be a short conversation! Was she psychic?

Lucia smiled at the surprise on his face. ‘Close?’

‘Maybe. How’d you figure that?’

She sipped her Coke, then picked a piece of ice out of the glass and played with it in her hands as she spoke. ‘For a start, the accountant thing. I mean, who the hell pretends to be an accountant? So, I think you must have a job that’s a lot more interesting than that.’

She stopped and looked to him for confirmation but he only shrugged. ‘You don’t say much. So unless your head is, like, totally empty, I guess that means you listen. That you’ve learned that listening gets you places that talking doesn’t.’

He finished his Jack Daniel’s and pointed the bartender to his glass for another.

‘Which means that in your work, listening pays dividends.’