'Hi, Mike,' he beamed. 'It has been a long time.'
'Ted,' he said, turning to the girl, 'I want you to meet Libby.'
'Hi,' he smiled.
'Hello, Ted,' Libby softly replied.
'Old Ted here is my very best friend,' continued Mike, 'and we haven't seen each other for ages.'
Mike insisted that Ted join tern for lunch. Sitting quietly, Libby listened to them reminisce over old times. There was a carefree buoyancy about the man that she liked.
When they had finished their lunch, Libby glanced down at her watch. 'Oh, I didn't realize it was this late. I have to go. I'll meet you at five, honey,' she said to Mike, kissing him on the cheek.
When she had gone, Mike turned to his friend. 'She's really a great gal.'
'You're telling me!' Ted gasped. 'Where the hell did you meet her, you sly old dog.'
'Oh, I've known her for a few months,' was his reply.
'For a few months?' sighed Ted. 'You must be worn out.'
'Why should I be worn out?' Mike asked. 'Shit,' laughed his friend, 'it wears me out watching her!'
'What the hell are you talking about?' Mike asked.
'Shit,' Ted laughed, 'who the hell are you trying to kid?'
'Sorry, Ted,' replied Mike in a puzzled voice, 'I honestly don't know what you're talking about.'
'How long have you known her?' he asked again.
'Since last December,' Mike replied.
'How well do you know her?' asked his friend. 'Well enough to marry her if I can talk her into it,' was Mike's reply.
Ted stared at him in disbelief.
'You really don't know, do you?' he gasped at Mike.
'Shit,' snapped Mike, 'you don't even make sense.'
'Do you know what she does for a living?' Ted asked.
'Nothing,' was the answer. 'She lives with some friends.'
Ted sat looking at his friend.
'Christ, Ted,' Mike finally said, breaking the silence. 'I don't understand you.'
'My God, Mike,' he suddenly blurted out, 'she's a fuck artist.'
'Are you crazy?'
'Hell no, I'm not crazy,' was his reply. 'I've seen her act three or four times.'
'You must be mistaken,' Mike hissed.
'Sorry Mike,' was the soft reply. 'I'd know her anywhere. She puts on one hell of a show with a big stud.'
'But she couldn't,' argued Mike. 'She's with me most of the time.'
'Maybe so,' Ted sighed, 'but she's on the stage at The Pink Stud every Saturday night.'
When Libby left the doctor's office, her suspicions had been confirmed. She was pregnant.
Walking down the street, she was filled with a glowing excitement. She was thrilled that she was carrying Mike's baby, and she knew how happy he would be about it. He had asked her so many times to marry him, and now tonight she would accept.
She arrived at the lounge early, but Mike was already waiting for her.
'Hi, honey,' she smiled, sitting down next to him.
Not answering, he just stared at her. Libby could tell he was half-drunk, something he seldom did.
'What's the matter, darling?' she asked.
'Libby,' he replied in a dull voice, 'have you ever heard of The Pink Stud?'
'Yes,' she replied.
'What do you know about it?' he continued. 'I work there,' was her honest reply.
'On the stage?'
'Yes.'
Getting to his feet, Mike laid some money on the table.
'Here's your fucking cab fare,' he whispered as he quietly walked away.
Libby never saw him again.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Libby's daughter was born in November. Wanting the baby to have a family name, Libby christened her Patty.
During her pregnancy, the family took care of her, and because Libby had saved enough money, they had been able to live quite comfortably while waiting for the baby's arrival. The boys picked up some extra part-time work, which was a big help.
When little Patty was four months old, Libby went down to see Rico about going back to work.
'Hello, Libby,' he smiled when he saw her. 'It's nice to see you again.'
'Hi, Rico,' she giggled. 'How are you doing with your fringe benefits?'
'So you're still a smart-ass,' he grumbled. 'How's your kid?'
'Fine,' she replied. 'But now I need a job to support her. Can you still use our act?'
'Shit, honey,' he sighed. 'Things ain't the same with this new Goddamned police commissioner. Everytime I try to put on a show, they raid the joint.'
'God,' she sighed. 'I really need work.'
'Well,' he said after a pause. 'I got a few contacts where I can send you out to private parties, but they don't pay much.'
'What do they pay?' she asked.
'They pay a hundred bucks,' he answered. 'Fifty for the broad and fifty for the stud.'
'Christ,' mumbled Libby. 'That's a crock of shit.'
'I know that, honey,' Rico sighed. 'But that's the goin' rate these days.'
'Hell,' she continued. 'I've gotta make some bread. Can you fix me up?'
'There's a party Thursday night, if you want it,' he answered.
'With Stan?' she asked eagerly.
'Nope, he disappeared months ago,' was his reply. 'But I'll make sure you get a good stud.'
'What's the deal on this party?' she sighed.
'It's a business meeting. They're all officers of some corporation that's gathered here. They want some entertainment with their dinner tomorrow night,' he answered.
'Where and at what time?' she asked.
'Ten o'clock,' as he began scribbling a Nob Hill address on a piece of paper.
At exactly ten o'clock the next morning, she stepped out of her cab in front of an imposing mansion. The door was opened by a very impersonal butler, who immediately escorted her to a small library that adjoined the big reception hall.
After waiting for about ten minutes, a man entered the room.
'I'm Grant Darwood,' he smiled. 'Where's your partner?'
'I'm Libby,' she replied. 'Isn't he here?'
'Not that I know,' was his answer. 'Well,' she smiled. 'He's probably a little late.' Libby studied the man standing over her. He was a tall, distinguished-looking person in his early forties. His deeply tanned face was accented by the sprinkling of gray hair around his temples. His strong features seemed to give him an expression of calm authority.
'I certainly hope he gets here soon,' he said in a gentle, deep voice. 'My guests are getting anxious.'
With that, he turned and let the room. Libby stood up, impatiently pacing back and forth.
'Well, it looks like he won't be here,' the man sighed when he returned a few minutes later.
'I'm sorry,' she said with genuine remorse. 'So am I,' was his reply. 'My guests are going to be very
