Small Town

God, she was wet at the very thought of it, and maybe it hadn’t been such a brilliant idea to go out without underwear. But it felt sexy, Jesus did it ever feel sexy, with her nipples (and they tingled, they always tingled now) rubbing the inside of the dress when she moved, and no cloth to bind her bare and dampened loins, and what if she did go home with the two of them? What if she fucked them both, one after the other or, better yet, both at once?

She’d never done that. Gary, that asshole husband of hers, with his oh-let’s-be-swingers number, had never really arranged anything interesting. And men who drooled at the thought of two girls and a guy got uptight at the idea of two men and one woman. Afraid they’d be shown up as less virile than the other guy, she supposed. Or, worse, scared of having some kind of sexual contact with him, and terrified that they might enjoy it.

Men...

Roz had made the reservation for nine, and he was ten minutes late. Stelli was there to greet him, and he said he was with Roz Albright.

She took his hand in both of hers, which surprised him. “She’s waiting for you in back,” she said. “I don’t know where Philip is, but go ahead back, you’ll find her. And John?” She was beaming. “I heard the news. Congratulations.”

He walked the length of the restaurant, feeling as though every eye in the place was on him. Roz was at a center-rear table, and there was an ice bucket on a stand next to the table, with a bottle of champagne chilling.

Jim Galvin interrupted himself in the middle of a war story. “Oh, Jesus,” he said. “You’re not going to believe who just walked in.”

“Who?”

“Don’t turn around. Shit, he’s coming this way.”

“Who is it?”

“My fucking client, and how did he even know I was here? Wait a minute, he didn’t, and he doesn’t even see me. The champagne’s for him, and what do you figure he’s got to celebrate?”

Buckram could see him now, giving the big blonde a hug and a kiss, then sitting down opposite her. The guy’s face was familiar, but he couldn’t think why.

He said, “Who is he, and what are you doing for him?”

“I’m doing jack shit for him, which I guess is why it spooked me to see him walk in like he’s gunning for me. Who is he? He’s John fucking Creighton is who he is.”

“The writer?” And he put his hands together and mimed wringing an invisible neck.

“Yeah,” Galvin said. “That writer. I’m supposed to turn up a witness that’ll help the defense. Like what? Somebody who saw him not kill her?”

“Be a neat trick.”

“I got one guy, says he’s pretty sure the two of them left the bar separately. But hell, there’s evidence puts him in the apartment with her. Maybe this muddies the water some, maybe Winters can do something with it, but—”

“Maury Winters? That’s who you’re working for?”

“Yeah, and I never thought I’d see the day. I’ll never forget how he made a monkey out of me in court one time. Anything comes of this, the DA’ll be trying to make me look stupid, and Maury’ll be objecting left and right. Funny how it comes around, isn’t it?”

“Maury Winters.”

“Is that the magic word, Fran? You and him got a beef or something?”

“See the brunette? Fourth stool from the end?”

“Changing the subject again? Yeah, I noticed her when she walked in. She’s a beautiful woman, I wouldn’t mind seeing more of her, but what’s she got to do with my boss?”

“The last time I saw Maury,” he said, “was in a fancy French restaurant.”

“Yeah, well, I guess he can afford to eat anyplace he wants.”

“He was all by himself at a table, and she was under it.”

“Come on, Fran.”

“Cleaning his pipes. Swear to God.”

“Jesus. If she pulled something like that here...”

“She couldn’t, Jim. She’d never get away with it. She’d have to do everybody.”

“I almost didn’t recognize you,” Roz said. “I was trying to remember when I saw you last. When did you shave?”

“About an hour ago.”

“I mean when did you lose the beard, not when did you last run a razor over your face.”

“Same answer,” he said. “It needed a trim, and I got carried away. I feel slightly naked, but I probably would anyway, being suddenly out in public. And Stelli recognized me. She even congratulated me. She couldn’t be referring to the indictment, or the shave, so I can only assume she heard about the deal. You told her, right?”

“I did,” she said. “I couldn’t help myself. But if I hadn’t, someone else would have before the evening was out. Word gets around in nothing flat, you know that. When you get home, I’ll bet you’ll have congratulatory messages on your machine. Which reminds me, did Esther call?”

“Right after I got off the phone with you. I swear I’ve never met the woman, but the way she talked you’d have thought at the very least we shacked up once for a week in Cancún.”

“If you’d ever seen her, you’d know how funny that is.”

“Right now,” he said, “she’s the most beautiful woman in the world, as far as I’m concerned. Next to you, of course.”

She grinned. “Goes without saying. Oops, here’s somebody.”