“Me too,” I said. “But I’ve been sleeping badly.” We stood at the window looking down on Mission Street. I watched the women. Not so chic down here. Overweight more often. Stretch pants that fit too tight. More of them carrying groceries and almost nobody with a shopping bag from Gump’s. Young black women, elegant very often, no matter what they wore. And chicano girls with thick long hair. Women holding on to the arms of men as they walked. Tired women, alone.
“Hard doing nothing,” Hawk said.
“Waiting is doing something,” I said.
Hawk shrugged. “Hard waiting,” he said. “Hard to not think while you’re waiting.”
“I’m thinking about how to find her,” I said. “That’s all.”
Hawk said, “Umm.”
The two women were watching television. A game show hooted and shrieked behind us.
“Sartre claimed that hell is other people,” I said.
“He never saw no TV game show,” Hawk said.
People went in and out of a pizza shop across the street. Most bought it by the slice and came out and ate it as they walked on. I envied them.
“Leo as bad as the two babes say he is,” Hawk said softly, “might be better to kill him.”
“He’ll take it out on them?”
“Maybe,” Hawk said. “Can you do it?”
“Have to,” I said.
We looked out the window some more. “You’re fucked,” Hawk said. “You got too many rules. Against the rules to blow Leo away coldblooded like. And against the rules to let him burn those whores.” He smiled happily.
“We exploited those whores,” I said.
“So we got to fan Leo,” Hawk said.
“We kill him,” I said, “we’ll have to kill the bodyguard. That leaves the women with two stiffs to explain.”
“If they stay,” Hawk said.
I turned and said to the two women, “You own this place or rent?”
Meg said, “We rent from Leo.”
Hawk laughed. “Old Leo got it every way.”
“You sign a lease?” I said.
Fay laughed without any hint of amusement. Meg shook her head.
“Slick,” I said to Hawk. “Leo owns property, puts his whores in it, they pay him rent, use it for commerce, and split their earnings. Leo gets a nice double dip.”
“Also means if these babes leave no one know they were here,” Hawk said.
“Yes. They’re not profitable, or whatever, he can move them out, move in two more.”
Fay was watching us as we talked.
“Why do you want to know that stuff,” Fay said. It was the first thing she’d said since yesterday.
“Better to know than not to know,” I said.
“You’re thinking of killing us,” Fay said.
“Oh my God,” Meg said and turned toward Fay, forsaking the game show.
“You want to know if we can be traced. You want to know who knows we’re here.”
“How do you think Leo will react to getting tossed in this apartment?” I said.
“We won’t ever tell anyone,” Meg said. She was leaning forward with her hands squeezed together in her lap. “Honest to God we won’t.”
Fay reached over and touched Meg’s clenched hands. “What do you mean,” she said.
She rested her hand on the double clenched fist in Meg’s lap. She patted it slightly.
“Will Leo blame you?” I said.
“Oh holy God,” Meg said. She began to rock slightly, her hands still clenched. Fay continued to pat.
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Fay said. She was quiet while she thought about it. Meg slipped her hands from under Fay’s comforting pat and pressed them against her mouth.
“Jesus,” she said in a choked voice. “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.”
“He might think we were in on it,” Fay said. “He’ll pretty sure know that we told you about the collection. And getting hassled in front of two of his girls will… He’ll take it out on us even if he doesn’t blame us.”
“If you have to get out of here,” I said, “you got someplace to go?”
Fay looked at me without speaking for maybe thirty seconds. Then she said, “Neither one of us is Little Red Riding Hood.”
