Chapter 17

*****

“Talk to me.”

She chews then swallows her mouthful of food. “Talk? You want to talk? “

“We have all night. Yes, I want to talk. Tell me about yourself. Is Mitch really your name?”

She tucks a lock of hair behind an ear. “Yes, it is.”

As if you would answer any other way….

“So, who's running you? You're a bit upmarket for one of Finchby’s.”

“Finchby?” Her lip curls. “That bastard from down by the docks? I’ve seen the way he treats his girls.” She eyeballs me, sitting upright; pale, beautiful, defiant. “No-one runs me. I run myself.”

I hold up appeasing hands. “Whoa…. I didn’t mean….”

What did I mean?

I change tack. “It’s dangerous, isn't it? Working by yourself? No one to keep an eye out for you?”

“Who said I’m by myself?”

There’s someone else here?

Startled, I look to the bathroom, the only possible hiding place. Not that it’s uncommon with the working girls, to have some muscle lurking in the back in case of trouble, but….

“No,” she laughs. “We’re alone. But I have an arrangement with Angelo.”

“Who? Oh, the barman?”

“He watches the security cameras out in the corridor. Makes sure everyone enters and leaves when they should.”

“And takes a cut?”

“Of course,” she shrugs. “But he finds me the rooms too. Whatever's not occupied in the hotel. He lets me know if there’s anyone giving trouble. It works well. And it keeps me out of the eye of the police.”

“But you're not actually soliciting. You let them approach you. At least, you let me and Frank approach you. You not doing anything illegal, not under the local laws, anyway.”

She shrugs. “The cops don't always see it that way. I had trouble one time when I first started. A guy wanted but then didn't want to pay. The cops just shake you off. They're not interested. I'd have to be awfully pushed to go to them for help.”

“So, you always use hotels?”

“You think I should take my work home with me?”

“I'd be curious to see where you live.”

She frowns….

Back off….

“I have an apartment.” The words are harmless enough, but suspicion lurks around her eyes.

“Your own?”

“My own, yes.”

“Not easy for a single woman.”

Her voice turns dry. “I work hard.”

I’ll bet you do….

“So….” She taps me on the chest. “…. what do you do, Larry? You're a businessman?”

“Of a kind.”

“What do you deal in?”

“Oh, this and that. Whatever pays the rent….”

*****

Michael

It’s early, still not light or even close to it. I had trouble sleeping. And after a restless doze of a couple of hours, I’m awake again, staring into the darkness. Although our impromptu bonfire party was a success and the evening ended amicably enough, my gut is still coiled tight.

I need to burst out somewhere.

Perhaps I should demolish another chicken shed?

Grow up, why don’t you….

Charlotte is curled up in my arms, her spine pressed against my chest. It helps. But what I really want is to fuck-make-love-with-fuck-my-brains-out-with her.

Everything’s alright when I can lose myself in you.

Will she want to?

Unsure of my reception, I don’t quite dare rouse her, so I lie there, wishing for her to wake, wanting her to tell me that everything’s okay between us.