Read Online Born Bad by Andrew Vachss - Free Book Online

and spike heels. A fine black mesh blouse did little to conceal her breasts as she bent over to take the man's order.
    "Absolut rocks, water on the side," the man told her, not making eye contact.
    When the waitress returned with two glasses on a small lacquered tray, the man pulled a folded sheaf of bills from his shirt pocket and handed her a twenty. "A gambler," the waitress thought to herself, noting where the man carried his money. She returned with a ten–dollar bill and one single, laying them across the tabletop so they were slightly separated. The waitress took one step back, watching, her hands clasped in front of her to squeeze her breasts into deeper cleavage.
    The man drew a wider separation between the two bills, this time catching her eyes–his were a bright China blue, startling under a Las Vegas tan. Then he took a gold coin from his jacket pocket, turned it in his fingers so the waitress could see both sides–a Queen's head and a maple leaf. The man pointed at the separated bills, bull's–eye tattoo prominent on the back of his hand.
    "Feel lucky?" he asked.
    "Go for it," the waitress smiled.
    The man flicked the coin with his thumb. As it turned gently in the smoky–blue air of the club, the waitress called out "Tails!"
    The man caught the coin in a cupped palm, slapped it against the back of his other wrist. He removed his hand to show the waitress the maple leaf.
    "You're a winner," he said.
    The waitress bent forward, delicately scooped up the sawbuck and blew the man a kiss, switching her hips as she walked away in a good–bye wave.
     
2
     
    T he man watched the runway dancers patiently, not reacting as one after another stepped down and continued to dance at various spots throughout the room. Other men were stuffing bills into garters or G–strings, applauding as the girls danced on tabletops. Occasionally, one of the dancers would perch on a patron's lap, but the man passed up all such offers, sipping at his drink, watching quietly.
    The waitress watched too. Watched the man's slouchy–cut black silk suit, the diamond flashing on his left ring finger, the wafer–thin gold watch. She made two more trips to his table, each time opting to risk her tip, each time winning,
    "Tails have always been lucky for me," she said to the man, standing hip–shot, "but I like heads too."
    "Do you?" the man asked.
    "Very much," she said, licking her lips.
    "You're a smart girl," the man said. "You pay attention, don't you?"
    "When I'm supposed to," she said, her eyes on the gold chain around the man's neck, barely visible under the open collar of his white silk shirt.
    The man reached into his shirt pocket, thumbed off a bill without looking, tossed it on the table. A hundred.
    "Yours," he said. "For a little favor."
    "Tell me," she said, bending forward, reaching.
    The man covered her hand with his, the bull's–eye tattoo holding her eyes.
    "Tell Reba to come over this way," the man said.
    "This isn't her spot," the waitress said. "I could…"
    "Just tell her," the man said, removing his hand.
    The waitress picked up the bill, said, "I'll see what I can do," and walked off, spike heels clicking on the tile floor.
     
3
     
    T he brunette was tall, extravagantly built, her hair a thick, wild mane falling past her bare shoulders. Her height was exaggerated by a pair of dark stockings, anchored by thick black bands around the top, flowing out of high spike heels. Her only other article of clothing was a black G–string.
    "You asked for me, honey?" she said.
    "Yeah," the man replied, his eyes scanning her face, not stopping until they located a tiny scar just past the corner of her right eye.
    "Well, I hope it's gonna be worth it, baby….It costs me fifty to switch my spot."
    The man reached forward, stuffed a couple of bills into the top of her stocking. The brunette held out a hand, so the man could help her onto the tabletop. But the man pulled her down instead, into his lap. The brunette squirmed,