apartment twenty-one. Of all the dirty doors in the building, this was the dirtiest. She knew neither it nor the rooms inside had been cleaned in the eight years Max had had the place.
She bumped the door a couple of times with her foot. The door opened almost immediately.
Max Petersen was in his early fifties, a six-foot, potbellied, hairy, ape-like man. He had been handsome once, but now the tiny veins beneath his cheeks and around his eyes had broken and he looked like a sick purple chimpanzee. At the moment he was wearing a pair of filthy black trousers with a broken zipper, an undershirt and a thick stubble of beard.
Max swung open the door and bowed from the waist. "Chris, good to see you."
Chris took two steps into the room and stopped. Behind Max on the cot was a fat blonde in a brassiere. She was clutching the neck of a gin bottle in one hand. She was about twenty and had gorgeous green eyes.
The blonde looked straight back at Chris. She lifted the bottle and took a long drink. She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand.
"Excuse me," Chris said.
Max whirled to face the blonde. "For Pete's sake, Jennie, get some clothes on," he said savagely.
Jennie belched out a coarse sound. "What the hell for? That big dyke." She laughed nastily. "She's seen plenty o' this before."
"She didn't come here to look at you," Max said. "We got business to discuss."
Jennie got off the couch and came toward Chris, swinging the gin bottle. "How about it, handsome? I bet you'd rather talk business with me, huh?"
The smell of gin and sex and perspiration hung over the girl like a cloud. It moved with her as she sidled across the room. It surrounded the two of them as she came up to Chris and rubbed against her.
Chris flushed deeply. She had been approached by women like Jennie before, but never quite like this. Never with a straight man for an audience. Certainly not when the guy was the woman's lover and no doubt paying for her services. But she knew she had to be calm about it, not take the damn slut and bat her around like she deserved. She had to be polite about it.
Chris put three fingers on each of Jennie's shoulders and pushed her gently away. "No, thanks," she said.
"Big dumb bastard," Jennie said. "Big dumb bastard."
Max slammed the door behind Chris. He approached Jennie. His arm went up and back. The huge hand caught Jennie on the side of the head. She screamed and dropped the bottle. It smashed and the gin soaked into the bare wooden floor.
Jennie glared at Max with hatred. "Big dumb bastard," she said.
Max grabbed her by the shoulders and propelled her toward a door at the other end of the apartment.
"Now get out of here," he said.
Jennie went into the other room and slammed the door. "Big dumb bastards," she yelled.
Max pushed the broken bottle under the sink with his foot. It brushed against a paper bag. A plump cockroach emerged and scuttled away across the floor.
"I'm sorry about that, Chris," Max said. "She's not very bright."
"Or very sober," Chris added. "Forget it."
Max pushed some rags that were probably clothes off a chair to the floor. He turned to Chris. "Sit down."
"Thanks," she said. She sat down without looking at the chair. It was easier that way. "Jonathan tells me you've got something that might interest us."
Max snorted. "What do you mean, might?"
Max pulled out a second chair and sat down by the table. He pulled a bottle toward him. "Drink?" he said.
"No, thanks," Chris said. "I'm on the wagon as of this morning's hangover."
"Wish I could say the same," he sighed. "It gets you after awhile." He poured some of the syrupy liquid into a glass with something on the bottom that looked like black coffee. He took a long drink.
Chris waited for a minute, then said, "So what have you got?"
Max leaned his chin on one hand and looked her straight in the eyes. "Ever seen a Glory-of-the-Seas?" he asked.
"Once, in a museum," she said. "There are only a couple of dozen of them
She bumped the door a couple of times with her foot. The door opened almost immediately.
Max Petersen was in his early fifties, a six-foot, potbellied, hairy, ape-like man. He had been handsome once, but now the tiny veins beneath his cheeks and around his eyes had broken and he looked like a sick purple chimpanzee. At the moment he was wearing a pair of filthy black trousers with a broken zipper, an undershirt and a thick stubble of beard.
Max swung open the door and bowed from the waist. "Chris, good to see you."
Chris took two steps into the room and stopped. Behind Max on the cot was a fat blonde in a brassiere. She was clutching the neck of a gin bottle in one hand. She was about twenty and had gorgeous green eyes.
The blonde looked straight back at Chris. She lifted the bottle and took a long drink. She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand.
"Excuse me," Chris said.
Max whirled to face the blonde. "For Pete's sake, Jennie, get some clothes on," he said savagely.
Jennie belched out a coarse sound. "What the hell for? That big dyke." She laughed nastily. "She's seen plenty o' this before."
"She didn't come here to look at you," Max said. "We got business to discuss."
Jennie got off the couch and came toward Chris, swinging the gin bottle. "How about it, handsome? I bet you'd rather talk business with me, huh?"
The smell of gin and sex and perspiration hung over the girl like a cloud. It moved with her as she sidled across the room. It surrounded the two of them as she came up to Chris and rubbed against her.
Chris flushed deeply. She had been approached by women like Jennie before, but never quite like this. Never with a straight man for an audience. Certainly not when the guy was the woman's lover and no doubt paying for her services. But she knew she had to be calm about it, not take the damn slut and bat her around like she deserved. She had to be polite about it.
Chris put three fingers on each of Jennie's shoulders and pushed her gently away. "No, thanks," she said.
"Big dumb bastard," Jennie said. "Big dumb bastard."
Max slammed the door behind Chris. He approached Jennie. His arm went up and back. The huge hand caught Jennie on the side of the head. She screamed and dropped the bottle. It smashed and the gin soaked into the bare wooden floor.
Jennie glared at Max with hatred. "Big dumb bastard," she said.
Max grabbed her by the shoulders and propelled her toward a door at the other end of the apartment.
"Now get out of here," he said.
Jennie went into the other room and slammed the door. "Big dumb bastards," she yelled.
Max pushed the broken bottle under the sink with his foot. It brushed against a paper bag. A plump cockroach emerged and scuttled away across the floor.
"I'm sorry about that, Chris," Max said. "She's not very bright."
"Or very sober," Chris added. "Forget it."
Max pushed some rags that were probably clothes off a chair to the floor. He turned to Chris. "Sit down."
"Thanks," she said. She sat down without looking at the chair. It was easier that way. "Jonathan tells me you've got something that might interest us."
Max snorted. "What do you mean, might?"
Max pulled out a second chair and sat down by the table. He pulled a bottle toward him. "Drink?" he said.
"No, thanks," Chris said. "I'm on the wagon as of this morning's hangover."
"Wish I could say the same," he sighed. "It gets you after awhile." He poured some of the syrupy liquid into a glass with something on the bottom that looked like black coffee. He took a long drink.
Chris waited for a minute, then said, "So what have you got?"
Max leaned his chin on one hand and looked her straight in the eyes. "Ever seen a Glory-of-the-Seas?" he asked.
"Once, in a museum," she said. "There are only a couple of dozen of them
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