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.’
She looked at him expectantly, and he nodded. ‘You’re good.’
‘Yeah?’ Her face split into a grin of delight. ‘I’m a psychology major! Final year. I love doing this stuff! Specially when I’m right.’
She’d surprised him. He’d thought the dancing and other … was what she did, what she was …
‘Well, you’re right so far. Want to see how close you can get?’
She nodded enthusiastically, and suddenly Tom didn’t care if she nailed it. Keeping his occupation and identity from her didn’t seem that important, compared to seeing the pride on her face.
Her brow furrowed and she studied him more closely this time, ending with a long stare into his eyes that made him uncomfortable. Hers were pale brown, and the black lashes around them were thick and spiked. The whites were very white and clear. He took a slow hit of Jack Daniel’s so he could close his eyes and shut her out for a moment.
‘Okay. You look tired.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Well, you do. That means you have a job where you’re not being like a cop all the time. You couldn’t be this tired all the time. Sometimes you have time to recover. Then you start again. So you have, sort of … cases. It’s not a nine-to-five job. Am I right?’
‘Right on all counts.’ He hoped she’d smile again, but she was too engrossed to be deflected now by mere enjoyment.
