“Sounds fair enough.” He pulled out his wallet and took out two hundred-dollar bills, made sure Veronica saw he only had an extra couple of fifties. Not good to come to a whorehouse loaded with cash or he might get his head bashed in.
Of course, if they figured out who he was, that was still a distinct possibility—and the reason there was no ID in his wallet.
“How about a drink?” Veronica asked.
He nodded. “Jack rocks sounds good.”
He followed her to the bar and she fixed him a drink. Jase sipped as he turned to survey the room once more. He was there for information, not sex. Which made choosing the right girl imperative. Veronica drank from a stemmed martini glass, her shrewd gaze going from him to the women in the silent game of chance she seemed to be mentally playing.
Which woman will he choose?
She beckoned a petite blonde in her thirties. “Come over here, Terri, and meet Tom.” The blonde, who looked as if she had plenty of experience, crossed the room in a silver thong and silver pasties. If you liked ample curves and a double D bosom, Terri was for you.
“Nice to meet you, Terri,” he said. Her hair was short enough he could see she didn’t have the lipstick tattoo. Maybe none of them did, but Terri wasn’t the woman he needed so he’d get another try.
“Who’s the redhead?” he asked as Terri wandered off. The girl was young, early twenties, big blue eyes and a vacant expression, like she wished she were anywhere but there.
“That’s Eve.” When Veronica motioned for her to approach, Eve pushed away from the wall and walked toward him on towering platform heels. Jase noticed her legs were a little shaky. “Eve, meet Tom,” Veronica said.
Her eyes shifted to the floor. “Hello, Tom.” She was new at this game, exactly what he was looking for.
Jase smiled. “Hello, honey. So are you up for a little fun?”
She swallowed, looked up at him. “Sure,” she said, but her fake smile wobbled.
Veronica seemed pleased with the exchange, her eyes wandering over his chest. “Looks like your lucky night, Eve.” She waved over her shoulder as she walked away. “Have fun, you two.”
Eve took his hand, her fingers icy cold, and led him out the door, passing a couple of young guys, seventeen or eighteen, on the way into the party room.
Jase followed Eve down the hall into one of the bedrooms and closed the door.
“You’ll have to wash up first,” she said. “And wear a condom. That’s the rule.” There was a sink and toilet in a minuscule bathroom, condoms stacked next to the faucet handles.
Eve gasped as he reached over and moved aside her long red hair. Surprise hit him at the sight of the lipstick tattoo.
Eve stepped away.
“Take it easy, honey. This really is your lucky night. I’m not here for sex. I just want to talk.”
Panic filtered through her. “If...if you can’t get it up, I can help you. That’s part of my job.”
“Let’s just talk, okay? Why don’t you sit down and get comfortable?”
Eve eased down on the bed, her eyes on his face, looking for any sign he wanted more from her than words.
“How did you get the tattoo?” he asked.
Unconsciously, she reached up and touched her neck, then clasped her hands between her knees. “I—I can’t talk about it. Let’s just do this and get it over with.” She stood up and started to pull down her red satin thong, but Jase caught her arm.
“Easy. All I want is a little conversation. It’ll mean an extra fifty for you.”
She wet her lips. They were painted a pretty rose, not bright red. “Do you know Harlan Burke?” he asked, giving her the name Wally had supplied.
Eve swallowed and glanced toward the door. “He’s the guy in the party room. The one with the slitty eyes and thinning blond hair. The big one’s Marvin Duff.”
“All right, good. That’s good. How did you start working here?”
Her gaze went back to the door. “Why do you want to know?”
