ME, TALKING TO Callie: “Room service was a great idea.”
“I agree,” she says, “I’m totally starving.”
“You know how I knew that? The four pounds of food you ordered.”
She flips me the finger.
Undeterred, I say, “Sam’s tucked away in the bathroom.”
“So?”
“The room service guy saw us here together, cool, calm, collected. We let him take his time setting the table and so forth.”
She cuts into her tenderloin and says, “You mean it establishes we didn’t kill a man, hack his vocal chords out of his neck with a pocket knife, or stick a tube up his ass.”
“Exactly.”
When Callie takes a bite of her steak I’m reminded how much I love watching her eat. She’s truly stunning. Crazy as it sounds, the way she moves her mouth when eating is something I’d pay money to see. Of course, I’d pay more to see what’s going on under those jeans. My mind suddenly shifts to Callie in the cubby with the ice machine, pulling her pants down enough to pee.
“Will I get to meet Miranda this trip?” she says.
“Excuse me?”
“Miranda. Do you have plans to introduce us?”
“You want me to?”
“Sure.”
“Then I will.”
I think about it a minute, then say, “What made you ask that?”
“About Miranda? You were staring at me.”
“I was?”
“At my lap, if we’re being precise.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“It’s a chick thing. We know when you glance, we know when you stare. You weren’t glancing.”
She takes a bite and adds, “You stared at my face, then my boobs, then my crotch. With extreme lust.”
“
“Again, a chick thing. There are degrees of lustful stares. Yours was extreme.”
“Can you blame me?”
She swallows her steak, cuts another wedge. “Blame you? Explain.”
“Christ, Callie, you’re gorgeous. Your body makes me crazy! You’re literally the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. And I’ve told you that a million times.”
“And I’m always pleased to hear it. But your problem with women?”
“Do tell.”
“You’re lazy.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Gorgeous women require extra effort. In a choice between a gorgeous woman, and a willing one, you’ll settle for willing every time.”
“Well hell, what man wouldn’t?”
“What man indeed.”
I say, “Miranda is not only willing, she’s beautiful and brilliant.”
“What’re you saying? She might be the one?”
“No, of course not. But can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Why are you being so catty tonight? I’m far more selective than you’re making it sound. Surely you can imagine how hard it is to find women who’ll accept my lifestyle.”
She pauses, then says, “You’re right. I’m sorry. I had no idea Miranda was that important to you.”
“Well, she is.”
“You really care for this lady?”
“I do. Very much. And thanks for not calling her a hooker.”
“You’re welcome. But…if she’s here, and she’s so special to you, why were you staring at
“Because you’re Callie Carpenter!”
“This is a compliment, yes?”
“Definitely. You’re one of a kind. I’d give anything to have you.”
“As a man who employs hookers, is this the point where you make me an offer?”
I look at her, looking at me. If there’s one woman in the world who could get me to settle down, it’s this one. Not only is her beauty unsurpassed, she’s everything I seek in a woman. Callie’s the total package. She completes me.
In short, we’re perfect together.
We work well, enjoy the same things. Like making money, shopping, killing bad guys, watching movies, going to theater, sleeping with beautiful women, and millions of other things, like…
“I look forward to it.”
“Excuse me?”
“Meeting Miranda,” she says. “I can’t wait to meet her.”
I frown. “Fine. I’ll introduce you now.”
“Fine,” she says.
I get Miranda on the phone and ask, “Are you up for meeting a friend of mine?”
“Of course. When?”
“Right now. I’m in room 228.”
“Give me ten minutes. I’m still in the mall.”
“See you then.”
I click the phone off.
Callie says, “She’s going to be angry.”
“Miranda? No way.”
I pause a moment, then say, “Why would you think that?”
“You brought her to Vegas to be with you, then sent her to the mall to shop. That’s very sexist, making her shop alone.”
“Well excuse me, Gloria Steinem, but I’ve been rather busy just now, discovering and trying to figure out how to dispose of a dead body and clean up a crime scene. I suppose the politically correct thing would be to bring a date to the next killing.”
“No need to get defensive.”
“How could I not? You just accused me of treating Miranda badly.”
“You probably told her you had business to attend to.”
“That’s right.”
“Now she’s going to come to the room and see an unmade bed, and the two of us sitting alone in a hotel room, having dinner together.”
“It’s not like Miranda and I are a couple.”
“Are you kidding me?” Callie says.
“About what?”
“She’s a woman, Donovan, and…wait. Do I really need to explain this to you?”
“Yes.”
Callie puts her fork down, gets to her feet, and sighs. “Look. I don’t care what you’re paying her. If she’s as nice as you say, she’s probably got feelings for you. And if so, she’s going to feel slighted.”
