by Nick Keller
Bernie started to say something but didn’t. He looked at her sternly and said, “He wouldn’t be a problem.”
She looked at him, guessing with her eyes. “What’s going on in that big ol’ head of yours, baby?”
“Maybe I’ll convince him it’s time for your retirement party.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Why not?”
“Uh—” she said, “I don’t think he’d like that, sugar.”
Bernie sounded reassuring as he said, “Oh, I think he would.”
“Bernie, Mr. G is a dangerous asshole. I’ve seen him in action.”
Bernie reached over and flashed his badge. “You see that, babe?” Then he snagged his holstered revolver and said, “You see that? I know what dangerous assholes are all about. In fact, dangerous assholes are my specialty.”
She settled back against the bed’s headboard defensively and said, “And that’s it? You’d expect me to quit, just like that?”
“Yup.”
“And where would I go?”
“Where do you think?”
She shook her head. “You don’t want that, Bernie.”
“Maybe I do.”
“Maybe I don’t.”
“Of course, you do.”
“Bernie…”
“Look,” Bernie said, getting back to his feet. “What’re you going to tell me next, Iva? That you’re a whore and I’m a cop? That you’d be bad for me? You’d hurt my career? That it wouldn’t work?”
“It’s not easy like that.”
“Yes, it is. It’s exactly like that. It’s that fucking easy.” He could feel himself getting irate. He had to breathe, calm down.
She slipped out of bed and moved to him, the sheet wrapped high over her breasts. “Listen, listen. Escorting—it’s all I’ve known, Bernie. I got a rap sheet. It’s big, baby. You don’t want to know everything I’ve done—”
“I already do, Iva.”
She stared at him close enough to feel his breath on her. “I’ve sucked off guys standing in circles.”
He looked away.
“I’ve sucked off guys standing in lines.”
“Iva…”
“I’ve fucked everything from politicians to high school virgins.”
“Iva, stop it!”
“I’ve fucked women, toys, whatever, Bernie. I’ve fucked anything they wanted me to. I’m just a fucking whore. A fucking, goddamn whore!”
“Iva!” he yelled cocking a big fist back to strike, but stopping himself. Iva looked at him understanding his rage, knowing his limits. Everything settled and they found themselves staring at each other, Iva welling up, eyes turning siren red, Bernie melting and lowering his fist. He finally said, “You could have all that. Or you could just have me.” He went to his wallet, fished out his cash and handed it to her. She didn’t want to take it. Taking his money made her feel sick inside. It emptied her, but she took it anyway. He went to the door, stopped, pulled out another two hundred dollars and said, “Here’s a little extra. Don’t give it to him. This is for you.”
She broke down and started crying.
He put the cash on the table and said, “You got my number?”
She nodded, sniffling and hating herself for crying like a stupid girl.
“Okay,” he said and put on his fedora. “See you around, babe.” He left.
Bernie plopped down into his Crown Vic outside, but he didn’t start the engine. He just stared up at Iva’s hotel window. Her vague outline was there. He could almost see her staring back at him. With a huff, he started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot.
The radio was on blasting some announcer’s call: “…Welcome to the weekly Better Letter Lotto, where you match two tiny letters and put up to a thousand buckaroos in your pocket book! And the winning letters are…”
Irritated at the way he left Iva standing there crying, he yanked his wallet out of his pocket and fished around the cash fold for his Better Letter Lotto ticket. He needed the distraction. But he was left deflated. It wasn’t there. It had fallen out of his wallet when he went digging around for Iva’s fare. He sat looking at her window through the rearview mirror as the announcer declared, “H—the first letter is H! And now… D! H and D is your winning combo!”
Her silhouette wasn’t there anymore. He wished it was. He wished he could see her clearly, watch her move. H and D—the winning letters. He chuckled bitterly and said, “H and D.” Like Hi-Def. He sighed hoping she’d won a big thousand buckaroos on his ticket, and drove away.
ERTER & DOBBS BOOK 2
PATTERNS OF BRUTALITY
IS AVAILABLE NOW!
For Kindle
at Amazon.