She tries on men like other women try on shoes. I try not to let my disappointment show as I paste on my show-biz smile and approach. “Don’t you two look cozy?”
The smug look on Dahlyla’s face makes me want to puke.
As usual, I can’t read Mr. Poker-Face when he says hi. His smile is warm but I’m not a good enough actress to return it. If he wants to sleep with her, fine, I don’t have to pretend to like it.
“Thanks for coming out. We got one more set. Hope you stick around.”
Before you start fucking.
“Just a sec, hun.” Dahlyla clamps onto my upper arm and drags me close, smelling of whiskey. “I want to talk… privately.”
“Sure.” I got no good reason to say no, except she stole my heart’s desire.
“Will you excuse us?” Dahlyla tries to kiss Andy on the cheek but he turns his head and she catches air.
Ha. Take that, man-stealer.
I walk her out the back door, down three cement stairs, and into a back alley.
Birdlike, she glances around, then whispers, “We need to lose the guys so you can take me to where you heard Peter’s voice.”
“Are you nuts? No.” I turn to go back but she steps in front of me.
“I just want to see if there’s any evidence that, you know… that Peter’s alive.”
“You know what? After almost getting killed, I don’t think I want to know.”
How could she even ask me such a thing?
“Hey! You need your mics back and I can help.” Her eyes shine, lit by the street lamp at the end of the block. When she gets like this, she’s a shark after blood and won’t let it rest. I’m afraid if I say no, she’ll go there by herself and I won’t have her get hurt on account of me.
“Fine.” I turn on my heel and run smack dab into the hard chest of Andy Quinn.
His voice is low and threatening and yet he wears a friendly smile. “What’re you two planning”
“Nothing. Just girl talk, hun.” Dahlyla smiles sweetly, takes his arm, and leads him back into the club while I follow.
Unbelievable. Maybe I should just tell her where to go. I mean the mic location not the other thing. Well, maybe that, too.
