next one.
“Does this concern for my well-being mean you’re on board with my Russian pimp theory?” Trina asked.
“No. Not even if he walked out in a white fedora with a purple feather.”
“Ooh, that would be a great look for me, though.” Trina let the camera fall back to her chest. She pulled out her phone and typed in a note. Her apprenticeship with a fashion designer only lasted half a year. The high-pressured atmosphere of that world hadn’t been a good fit. But Trina had discovered a natural talent on the sewing machine. Whenever an idea came to her, she jotted it down and a few weeks later would have a new outfit to wear. “With purple leather pants, and maybe a white lace halter. What do you think?”
Darcy elbowed her in the side. “I think your guy’s on the move.”
Ivan, still in his white shorts topped with a faded OC tank top stretched to its limit across his belly, was easy to spot. He gave his now-signature double-handed squeeze to the ass of a skinny girl young enough to be his granddaughter. Only the sticky humidity of the night kept Darcy from shivering in disgust at his skeeziness as she watched. The circle of girls around him opened, and he waddled toward the exit.
Trina rushed forward all of two feet to peer around a crepe myrtle awash in pink blooms. “Let’s wait for him to hit the street, so we can figure out which way he’s headed. Then we’ll run for it.”
Great. Already Darcy’s hair clung to her damp neck. A thunderstorm must be rolling in, because it felt like the air had been soaking in wet paper towels. Running in her flip-flops sounded just peachy. She left the cave and started down the pebbled path. The smell of chlorine assaulted them as they crossed in front of a too-blue waterfall. “Running isn’t very stealthy, Trina. Better to play it casual.”
“Oh. You’re right. Well, come on then, we’ve got to catch up.” It didn’t take much hustling to get close to Ivan. Probably due to his girth, he trundled down the sidewalk about as fast as a sedated turtle.
“So if you don’t think he’s a pimp, why’d you come with me? Couldn’t stand to pout over Coop all by your lonesome?” Trina asked in a saccharine, sing-song voice.
“First of all, I’m not pouting.” Well, not much. Not that she’d admit to, anyway. “Secondly, Coop didn’t stand me up. I’m sure I’ll see him tomorrow, and we’ll give it another go.” The way the sparks had flown between the two of them, Darcy worried they were responsible for all the static electricity in the air tonight. Coop had a valid reason for cutting the night short. She respected his sense of responsibility. But why oh why couldn’t that call have come five minutes later? After a kiss that showed all the potential of being one heck of a brain scrambler?
“I wonder if the cousin that’s coming into town is as cute as he is. Maybe we could double date.” Trina turned to face Darcy, hopping backward in a tiny dance.
Putting a hand on her bouncing butt, Darcy turned her back around so Trina could actually watch the man she was tailing. “Aren’t you too busy tracking evil to spare any time for something as mundane as dating?”
“James Bond screwed every woman he tripped over. The bad ones and the good ones. If he had time for it, so do I.”
They were headed south. Of course, the majority of Ocean City sprawled south of them for one hundred and thirty-eight more blocks. It didn’t really narrow the possibilities of where Ivan was headed next. “I think I’d prefer you to choose a role model who isn’t almost killed three times in every movie. How about Miss Marple?”
“She didn’t have any sex. Geez, let me live a little.”
“You live plenty. Whereas I’ve been dateless in Africa for months. So how about you let me enjoy at least one night alone with Coop before you start horning in with talk of hypothetical double dates?”
“Fine.” Trina contorted half her face in an elaborate wink.
“Does this concern for my well-being mean you’re on board with my Russian pimp theory?” Trina asked.
“No. Not even if he walked out in a white fedora with a purple feather.”
“Ooh, that would be a great look for me, though.” Trina let the camera fall back to her chest. She pulled out her phone and typed in a note. Her apprenticeship with a fashion designer only lasted half a year. The high-pressured atmosphere of that world hadn’t been a good fit. But Trina had discovered a natural talent on the sewing machine. Whenever an idea came to her, she jotted it down and a few weeks later would have a new outfit to wear. “With purple leather pants, and maybe a white lace halter. What do you think?”
Darcy elbowed her in the side. “I think your guy’s on the move.”
Ivan, still in his white shorts topped with a faded OC tank top stretched to its limit across his belly, was easy to spot. He gave his now-signature double-handed squeeze to the ass of a skinny girl young enough to be his granddaughter. Only the sticky humidity of the night kept Darcy from shivering in disgust at his skeeziness as she watched. The circle of girls around him opened, and he waddled toward the exit.
Trina rushed forward all of two feet to peer around a crepe myrtle awash in pink blooms. “Let’s wait for him to hit the street, so we can figure out which way he’s headed. Then we’ll run for it.”
Great. Already Darcy’s hair clung to her damp neck. A thunderstorm must be rolling in, because it felt like the air had been soaking in wet paper towels. Running in her flip-flops sounded just peachy. She left the cave and started down the pebbled path. The smell of chlorine assaulted them as they crossed in front of a too-blue waterfall. “Running isn’t very stealthy, Trina. Better to play it casual.”
“Oh. You’re right. Well, come on then, we’ve got to catch up.” It didn’t take much hustling to get close to Ivan. Probably due to his girth, he trundled down the sidewalk about as fast as a sedated turtle.
“So if you don’t think he’s a pimp, why’d you come with me? Couldn’t stand to pout over Coop all by your lonesome?” Trina asked in a saccharine, sing-song voice.
“First of all, I’m not pouting.” Well, not much. Not that she’d admit to, anyway. “Secondly, Coop didn’t stand me up. I’m sure I’ll see him tomorrow, and we’ll give it another go.” The way the sparks had flown between the two of them, Darcy worried they were responsible for all the static electricity in the air tonight. Coop had a valid reason for cutting the night short. She respected his sense of responsibility. But why oh why couldn’t that call have come five minutes later? After a kiss that showed all the potential of being one heck of a brain scrambler?
“I wonder if the cousin that’s coming into town is as cute as he is. Maybe we could double date.” Trina turned to face Darcy, hopping backward in a tiny dance.
Putting a hand on her bouncing butt, Darcy turned her back around so Trina could actually watch the man she was tailing. “Aren’t you too busy tracking evil to spare any time for something as mundane as dating?”
“James Bond screwed every woman he tripped over. The bad ones and the good ones. If he had time for it, so do I.”
They were headed south. Of course, the majority of Ocean City sprawled south of them for one hundred and thirty-eight more blocks. It didn’t really narrow the possibilities of where Ivan was headed next. “I think I’d prefer you to choose a role model who isn’t almost killed three times in every movie. How about Miss Marple?”
“She didn’t have any sex. Geez, let me live a little.”
“You live plenty. Whereas I’ve been dateless in Africa for months. So how about you let me enjoy at least one night alone with Coop before you start horning in with talk of hypothetical double dates?”
“Fine.” Trina contorted half her face in an elaborate wink.
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