Read Online Everybody Pays by Andrew Vachss - Free Book Online Page A

on you?”
    “No, Lester,” the blonde said. “I know you’re a man of honor.”
    The man flushed under his gray complexion. “You think you’re better than me? You’re a phone whore—I’m a phone pimp. I don’t
make
nobody do nothing. You don’t like the deal, you can just haul your fat ass out of here, go find a place where they’ll treat you better.”
    “I’m sorry, Lester,” the blonde said softly. “I was only playing.”
    “Don’t play like that, bitch!” the gray man said. “You don’t insult a man’s honor in his own place. You know better than that.”
    “I
said
I was sorry, Lester,” the blonde replied. She took a step forward, leaning one hip against the front of the desk. “You running a new ad?”
    “That’s right,” the man said, only slightly mollified. “And this ain’t for no sex stuff either. You know what’s hot now? Psychics. Astrologists. Tarot cards. All that stuff.”
    “But you can get all that on the street,” the blonde said, a puzzled tone in her voice. “Why would they want—?”
    “Look, everybody knows, the Gypsies, they’re just gonna rip you off. Besides, what if you want to talk to someone, say, two in the morning? Who’s open then?”
    “Yeah, but . . .”
    “We got this all on
computer
now, would you believe that, Delva? Square business: You tell your birthday, all they got to do is push some buttons and they got like a whole
report
on you. Computers, it’s like magic. They got
everything
on them. It’s amazing.”
    “Yeah. I guess so, but . . .”
    “What?”
    “You ever try it? For yourself, I mean?”
    “How could I—”
    “You know what I mean, Lester,” the blonde said. She stepped back from the desk, and began to walk in little circles, round and round, as if she were on a turnstile. The gray man’s eyes followed—his gaze never reached her eyes. “You give everyone a tryout, right?” she said. “The way you did with me? You get their home number, then you call them and you act like a trick. So you can see how they do.”
    “What’s that got to do with—?”
    “You try them
all
, right? Even this little girl—what’s her name again?—Lolita?”
    “That’s not her
real
name, for Chrissakes! What’s wrong with you?”
    “Me? Nothing. I was just thinking. You always have to test people, right? See how they do on the real thing?” The blonde stopped mid-stride, her back to the gray man, peering over one shoulder. “I just thought you could call one of those psychics,” she said, “find out what’s going to happen to you.”
    “Happen to me? What—?”
    “Like are you going to win the lottery; stuff like that.”
    “Oh. Yeah, well, why should I? It’s all bullshit, like you said.”
    “I meant, just to see how they come across. Look, forget I mentioned it—it’s probably a stupid idea. Give me my money and I’ll get out of here. What time is it anyway?”
    “Exactly two-sixteen a.m.,” the man said, pulling back a cuff to display a gold watch with diamonds circling the face. He started to paw through a metal box which held a number of index cards. “Let’s see. You were on Monday and Tuesday, then you—”
    “I sure hope this thing works,” the blonde said, fumbling in her purse.
    “What works?” he asked, looking up.
    “This,” the blonde said, pulling a semi-automatic pistol from her purse. “The silencer, I mean,” tapping the long tube that extended from the front of the barrel.
    “Delva, look . . .” The gray man’s voice spasmed.
    “Keep quiet, Lester. Keep
real
quiet. You keep quiet, you
stay
quiet, and I’m out of here in a minute, no harm done.”
    “It’s in the safe,” he said, a resigned tone in his voice. “If you needed cash, you could’ve always—”
    “No, it’s not in the safe,” the blonde said. “It’s in your records. I want this ‘Lolita’s’ real name. I want her mother’s name. I want where they live. I want it all—everything you got, okay?