and want to mess with my head, though."
"Yeah, I wouldn't wanna work in no cop shop. Whew! Too much testosterone. Even the women got too much testosterone." She sketched a mustache on her upper lip. "You've got a hard-worn look, man. I mean, I find it sort of attractive, a guy who shows the mileage, but you're never going to get yourself a wife, you go around needing a shower and shave, hair sticking out like that, shoulders hunched like a grouchy old bear. Woman wants a man who takes some pride in himself."
"Thought she wanted a man with bucks in his wallet and an itch to scratch."
She poured his coffee and sat down across from him, holding a small white bear. "That, too, Joe. But any woman wants to be wanted—my kind or the marry and settle down kind. So how come you won't let me... you know... cheer you up a little?"
"Just seeing you cheers me up."
"Don't give me that moose crap. You're here on business, aren't you."
"My life. My business. No difference. Tell me about the doc with the Mercedes who got killed last night."
Not looking at him, she stroked the bear's head. "He was a simple man. Pick up a girl, drive her to his favorite spot, open his shirt, unzip his pants, and get blown. He was clean. Didn't ask for weird shit. Paid cash up front and never asked for free seconds. Closest he came to kinky was liking to have his nipples sucked. I can handle that. It's kind of sweet, actually. Not that he was sweet."
She dropped the bear and popped out of her chair. "How's your coffee? Want me to warm it up?"
"It's fine. What do you mean he wasn't sweet?"
She bent forward from the waist and rested her forehead on her knees, a sudden, graceful move that showed off her amazing agility. She danced at a club sometimes. He'd never gone to see her. She swept her hair forward, covering her face, massaging the back of her neck. "I've got this headache," she said. "You ever get headaches?"
He knew this game, verbal hide and seek, but he wasn't in the mood for games. After a moment, she sat up, giving him an irritated look. "I mean, Mr. Can't-be-distracted, that he never showed any kindness or interest, or even any sign I was human. Lots of guys try to make conversation. They're nervous and shit, so they chatter. Or they don't say much, but what they do say, it's a little like flirting. Like how pretty I am and stuff? Or how they've never done this before and they're nervous and I have to tell 'em they'll do fine, they're gonna love it. But he didn't talk much, just confirmed the price for what he wanted."
She picked up the bear and caressed it nervously. Burgess was curious. It was a dangerous business, but there wasn't much that spooked Alana.
"There was something cold there," she continued. "Like he needed a woman to do him but she didn't really exist. She was just a mouth, some hands. People didn't matter to him, which was weird 'cuz he was a doctor, you know? So even though he was easy, I didn't like doing him." She raised her eyes to his, eyes that had seen so much they should have been jaded, but they were only puzzled. "I understand need. I understand horny. Most men are pretty simple. I didn't understand him."
"He was always like that?" She nodded. "Always one girl, or sometimes two?"
"One."
"Any idea who he was partying with last night?"
She dropped the bear. "I know something about it."
Probably a lot, if he was reading her right. This hesitation and slow divulging was part of the game, a kind of foreplay between them. They had to make it good because foreplay was all there ever was. But today he was so damned tired. Like an old married man. Not tonight, honey, got a headache. "You going to tell me or am I supposed to beg?" Trying to ignore the way her right forefinger and thumb caressed her left thumb.
"Take it easy, Joe. I'm thinking. I know you don't believe I can, but I'm doin' it."
"Come on, Alana, either you know or you don't."
She gave him a slant-wise look with her gorgeous eyes and made a tut-tut
"Yeah, I wouldn't wanna work in no cop shop. Whew! Too much testosterone. Even the women got too much testosterone." She sketched a mustache on her upper lip. "You've got a hard-worn look, man. I mean, I find it sort of attractive, a guy who shows the mileage, but you're never going to get yourself a wife, you go around needing a shower and shave, hair sticking out like that, shoulders hunched like a grouchy old bear. Woman wants a man who takes some pride in himself."
"Thought she wanted a man with bucks in his wallet and an itch to scratch."
She poured his coffee and sat down across from him, holding a small white bear. "That, too, Joe. But any woman wants to be wanted—my kind or the marry and settle down kind. So how come you won't let me... you know... cheer you up a little?"
"Just seeing you cheers me up."
"Don't give me that moose crap. You're here on business, aren't you."
"My life. My business. No difference. Tell me about the doc with the Mercedes who got killed last night."
Not looking at him, she stroked the bear's head. "He was a simple man. Pick up a girl, drive her to his favorite spot, open his shirt, unzip his pants, and get blown. He was clean. Didn't ask for weird shit. Paid cash up front and never asked for free seconds. Closest he came to kinky was liking to have his nipples sucked. I can handle that. It's kind of sweet, actually. Not that he was sweet."
She dropped the bear and popped out of her chair. "How's your coffee? Want me to warm it up?"
"It's fine. What do you mean he wasn't sweet?"
She bent forward from the waist and rested her forehead on her knees, a sudden, graceful move that showed off her amazing agility. She danced at a club sometimes. He'd never gone to see her. She swept her hair forward, covering her face, massaging the back of her neck. "I've got this headache," she said. "You ever get headaches?"
He knew this game, verbal hide and seek, but he wasn't in the mood for games. After a moment, she sat up, giving him an irritated look. "I mean, Mr. Can't-be-distracted, that he never showed any kindness or interest, or even any sign I was human. Lots of guys try to make conversation. They're nervous and shit, so they chatter. Or they don't say much, but what they do say, it's a little like flirting. Like how pretty I am and stuff? Or how they've never done this before and they're nervous and I have to tell 'em they'll do fine, they're gonna love it. But he didn't talk much, just confirmed the price for what he wanted."
She picked up the bear and caressed it nervously. Burgess was curious. It was a dangerous business, but there wasn't much that spooked Alana.
"There was something cold there," she continued. "Like he needed a woman to do him but she didn't really exist. She was just a mouth, some hands. People didn't matter to him, which was weird 'cuz he was a doctor, you know? So even though he was easy, I didn't like doing him." She raised her eyes to his, eyes that had seen so much they should have been jaded, but they were only puzzled. "I understand need. I understand horny. Most men are pretty simple. I didn't understand him."
"He was always like that?" She nodded. "Always one girl, or sometimes two?"
"One."
"Any idea who he was partying with last night?"
She dropped the bear. "I know something about it."
Probably a lot, if he was reading her right. This hesitation and slow divulging was part of the game, a kind of foreplay between them. They had to make it good because foreplay was all there ever was. But today he was so damned tired. Like an old married man. Not tonight, honey, got a headache. "You going to tell me or am I supposed to beg?" Trying to ignore the way her right forefinger and thumb caressed her left thumb.
"Take it easy, Joe. I'm thinking. I know you don't believe I can, but I'm doin' it."
"Come on, Alana, either you know or you don't."
She gave him a slant-wise look with her gorgeous eyes and made a tut-tut
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