Read Online Born Bad by Andrew Vachss - Free Book Online Page A

purring "Lap dancing costs–"
    "Just do it," the man said quietly, his right hand around her waist. With his left hand, he reached into his shirt pocket, tossed several bills on the table.
    The brunette tried to turn so she could throw one leg over the man's lap and face him, but he held her firmly with one hand. She wiggled her buttocks hard against the man's lap, making practiced sounds of pleasure, throwing back her head so she was cheek–to–cheek with the man, facing forward.
    As she reached one hand out for the money, the man whispered in her ear, "You wanted to see me?"
    She sat up, startled, but the man's hand on her waist held her close. 'You told Lucinda you wanted to see me?" he said again.
    The brunette relaxed, leaning back again, her mouth close to the man's ear." You're Cross?" she asked.
    "Yeah."
    "I thought you'd look…I don't know…different."
    "Tell me what you want," he said, voice flat.
    She shifted her weight, still wiggling in time to the music, whispering, "I want a gun. A cold gun. Never used. Lucinda said you could…"
    "What do you want it for?"
    "A fucking paperweight for my coffee table, what do you think?" she snapped.
    "I don't sell guns," the man said. "Not individual guns. You want to buy a crate, we can talk. One piece, go visit a pawnshop."
    "I'll pay–"
    "Tell me what you want," the man said again.
    "Not here. Pick me up after work. I'll–"
    "Won't the boss–?"
    "I don't have a boss," the brunette said. "I rent this space. What I do after work is my own business."
    "What time do you–?"
    "I'll be out front at four."
     
4
     
    S he was standing on the apron to the parking lot at 4 A.M. when a white Cadillac sedan pulled up. The driver stepped out, a pudgy man with black hair plastered across his forehead, wearing a voluminous calf–length coat despite the summer heat. The driver walked around behind the Cadillac, opened the back door. Then he stepped close to the woman, said, "Mr. Cross is waiting," and swept his hand toward the opened door in an invitational gesture.
    The brunette put one long leg inside the car, saw the man with the bull's–eye tattoo on his hand sitting inside, and climbed in the rest of the way. The door slammed behind her, and the Cadillac pulled away smoothly.
     
5
     
    I have to make a stop first," Reba said. "It's over on Diversity."
    If Cross felt any impatience, his face didn't reflect it.
    The Cadillac purred through the empty streets, alone except for an anonymous smog–colored sedan trailing a respectful distance behind. If the driver noticed, he gave no sign.
    When the white car pulled to the curb, Reba turned in her seat, facing Cross full on. "Come on," she said. "You might as well see the reason for all this."
    It was a three–story brownstone, the polished wood door covered by black wrought–iron grillwork. Reba took out a key, opened the gate, then the door. "Come on," she said again.
    Cross followed her up the stairs, reflecting on the wisdom of Keith Gilyard, the ground–zero poet laureate of New York…how true it was that walking up stairs exaggerates female hips…for good or for bad. The brunette was all good.
    On the top floor, she used another key to let herself in. A hefty woman with short–cropped brown hair was sitting on an exercise bike, pumping away. She looked up at the entrance, gasped an incomprehensible greeting, and went back to her silent work. Reba Hashed her a smile, walked past the exercise bike down a hall, Cross close behind.
    She opened the door to a small bedroom. The walls were a soft pink, decorated with dolls, stuffed animals, a giant poster of some sleek, androgynous individual holding a guitar. A blonde girl was asleep in the single bed, a quilt covering her to her shoulders. Her face, childlike in repose, showed a girl somewhere in that borderland before adolescence. Reba bent at the waist, gently brushed the girl's soft hair from her forehead, kissed her on the cheek. Then she straightened up, took a