Urge to Kill

As she entered the lounge she blinked a few times to help adjust her eyes to the dimness, looking all around for the dark-eyed man.

He wasn’t there.

Well, what did you expect? With your crappy luck.

But on the same stool where dark-eyes had sat was another man, in his late thirties, maybe forty. A nice-enough-looking guy wearing gray slacks and a shirt and tie. He was looking at Lavern and smiling. He had a lot of dark stubble on his chin, but that was the style, and maybe he was growing a beard.

When she got closer, she glanced at his left hand and didn’t see a wedding band. For all that was worth these days.

Still smiling, he nodded to her and said, “You’re late, but that’s okay. We can make up for lost time.”

Another bullshit artist.

“Do we know each other?”

“I’ve never before laid eyes on you,” he admitted. The smile widened. Nice teeth, very white. “See, we’re starting off honestly.”

Lavern smiled back.

Why not? She could use a little talk, a little personal, painless attention.

And a drink.

53

“…and they didn’t know if the parrot was saying everything he was saying, or if he was saying everything the parrot was saying.”

The crowd in Say What? thought about it, then with a growing rush of applause decided they liked that one. They cheered and hooted as Jackie Jameson waved his right arm over his head in a circular motion, dipped low in his exaggerated bow, and trotted off the stage.

Mitzi and Rob (he had finally told her his name—Rob Curlew) were seated at the table Rob preferred. It was barely large enough for two, so they wouldn’t attract unwanted company. It was also at the very edge of the crowd, and not far from one of the side exits. Not only could they look out over the audience so Mitzi could judge crowd reaction to particular jokes, but when the night of comedy and near comedy ended, they could easily slip outside and get away without having to talk to anyone Mitzi knew. Rob valued his privacy. Mitzi understood that and accommodated him.

Tonight was different, however, because her boss Ted Tack was holding her check from last week, and Mitzi needed the money. The rent was past due, and the landlord was pesky.

Jackie Jameson had been the final act, so Mitzi and Rob waited for the applause to trail off, then stood up from their table.

Mitzi started toward a side aisle so she could make her way to the stage and office. Rob closed his hand on her arm.

Mitzi explained that she had to pick up her paycheck.

“I can carry us till next week,” Rob said.

Mitzi aimed her big smile at him. “In case you haven’t noticed, you carried us all this week. You wouldn’t want me sleeping with the landlord. I need my money, baby.”

“You mean your independence.”

“Up the rebels! Whatever it is they’re against.”

Rob smiled and kissed her cheek. “I’ll be waiting right outside.”

“It’ll only take a few minutes for Ted to pay me or for me to punch him out,” Mitzi said. She waved a small fist. “He always pays.”

“Remember I’m nearby,” Rob said, “in case there’s any trouble.” As if she was serious.

Mitizi wondered sometimes if he was serious, some of the things he said. Or maybe it was because he was normally so smooth that any slightly out-of-kilter remark seemed even more so.

As she moved away through the crowd that was gradually making its way outside, she wondered what kind of job Rob had, that he worried so little about money. Something to do with investments, he’d say, whenever she inquired, then he’d begin explaining things to her she didn’t understand. There were lots of acronyms, but they all meant money. So maybe he was rich as well as handsome.

I am makin’ out with The Man.

Somebody or something tugged at her right earlobe, and she turned, ready to cut some poor bastard off at the knees if she could figure out who’d been the tugger.

I better know you as a friend.

She did. Jackie Jameson was jammed up against her by the press of the crowd.

Her momentary anger was gone. She grinned at him. “Nice set, Jackie.”

“Yours, too.” He cupped his hands over his chest. “Wanna go lift a few, Mitz? Talkin’ drinks here, not boobs.”

“Sorry, Jackie, I’m going out with Rob.”

Jameson made a big thing of looking all around. “So where is he?”

“Waiting outside.”

“What is this guy, some kinda secret agent? You helping him hide?”

“He likes privacy, is all.”

“Then he should like you. You’re sure keeping him a big secret.”

“I kinda enjoy that, him and me together, nobody around to applaud or boo.”

“Oh, I’m sure they’d applaud, Mitz.”

She grinned again. “I gotta go, get to the office before Ted makes his escape with my paycheck.”

“Maybe Rob’d like to have a drink or two with us,” Jackie said, as Mitzi was moving away in the general direction of stage and office.

“Oh, yeah, we’d both love having you around. In case conversation started to drag.”

“I’m jealous, Mitz. You noticed?”

“Of me?”

“Of him,” Jackie said. “I’m better for you, Mitz.”