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“You’re welcome.” He nods politely and smiles at me in a way that makes me sick. “My name is Chris, by the way.”
“Hi, Chris. I’m Loretta.”
“Loretta. Like the singer?”
I fake a giggle. “Yes. My mother named me after her. Was a huge Loretta Lynn fan. When I was little, she once told me she was slightly disappointed I was born with red hair because she wanted me to look like her.”
“Wow,” Chris lets out a hearty laugh. “That’s a little harsh. But funny.”
I shrug as Ronny sets my drink down. “I’m a good sport about it. My mom and I are really close now, and she’s always apologizing for saying it. Like she scarred me for life or something.”
“Well, you sure don’t seem scarred.”
“Yeah, tell her that.” I taste my Bitch Kicker and Chris was right. It’s damn good. Ronny stands nearby, wiping down bottles of liquor.
“If I ever have the pleasure of meeting her, I will.”
My gut twists. I wonder if Chris used this routine on his wife when he met her.
“So. You planning to stick around for a while?” he asks.
“Hmm?”
“You’re dressed up pretty nicely. Thought you might be meeting someone, or leaving for a date later on.”
Dressed up. For Chris, that’s code for ‘dressed like a slut.’ I can just tell. Well, I am supposedly a prostitute. I make it a point to answer Chris’s question loud enough for Ronny to hear.
“You got me. Though not for another hour. Guess I should have said something before I let you buy me a drink.”
“No, it’s fine.” Chris waves at me, like it’s nothing. “Though I do hope you come back if your date is a flop.”
“I could probably do that. My best friend lives in Malibu Park and I’m taking care of her dog while she’s out of town. If the dog barks at my date, I’ll know he’s a dud.”
“Ah, already planning on letting him take you home, huh?” He gives me a sly wink.
“Well, why not. If he’s nice.” I’m making up bullshit left and right, just in case Ronny is questioned by the police. Which I’m sure he will be, seeing as this is the last place Chris will be seen alive. Ronny will be able to feed the detectives all kinds of false information.
“Hey, I support that decision. I’m all about the feminist movement. Women are just as much sexual creatures as men. They should be allowed to flaunt their sexiness as much as the next guy.”
Not what the feminist movement is about but whatevs, fuckface.
“Think I’ll step over here and enjoy the view before I have to leave, if you’d like to join me.” At this point I could probably tell him I have to use the restroom because snails are coming out of my butthole and he’d follow me.
“I’d love to.”
We take our drinks to the banister that overlooks the Pacific Ocean and set them on the railing. The moon hovers over the horizon, casting flickering lights off the rippling waves.
I feel Chris’s eyes move over me as he takes in a deep breath, and I assess his interest as “high.” He’s either desperate or I’m really good at what I do. But I say this every time because it never takes long for me to snag a man’s attention. Unless, of course, your name is Benjamin Fuckin’ Figueiredo.
I pull another sip of my drink, not wanting to drink too much. It’s stronger than I thought it would be, given that it’s a beverage for a hangover.
“True confession time,” I say, pulling my hair over the opposite shoulder and exposing my neck to him.
“I’m listening.”
“I do have a date, but … it’s professional.” I lock eyes with Chris and immediately see a new interest. “If something, or someone better came along, I wouldn’t hesitate to cancel.”
Chris drags his tongue over his teeth, then looks away. He drinks down the rest of his beer and sets it softly on the wooden surface next to him. “Is there a price point at which you’d lose your hesitation?”
