Read Online Naked in LA by Colin Falconer - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Colin Falconer
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can look out for myself. Where’s my clothes?”
“You’ve had a terrible loss, you can’t go home, not like this. You’re staying here.”
“You mean you’ve kidnapped me?”
“No, I haven’t kidnapped you.”
“Then where are my clothes?”
He debated with himself. Then he lost it and threw the pills at the wall. “Jesus H!”
I opened the closet. He’d hung my dress up for me. It hit me then, that he probably did love me, finally, in his own way. Life was a funny thing.
I slipped my dress over my head, found my shoes and put them on. “Where’s the rest of my things?”
“What the hell are you going to do?”
“I’m going to organize a funeral for my papi, and then pack up my things. I don’t have a whole lot to move, so it shouldn’t be hard.”
“And go where? You want me to find you a place? I can get you a nice apartment, right on the beach, a fancy car. You can have a nice life, baby, you won’t have to worry about anything anymore.”
“You want me to be your mistress?”
“Sure, what’s wrong with that?”
“That’s sweet of you, Angel, but I have to pass.”
“You should think about this, it’s a good offer.”
“If I was a ten-dollar hooker, it’s a great offer. Call me crazy, but I’m setting my sights a little higher than that.”
“Yeah, on what?”
“I have this dream. You remember all those actresses used to come to the Left Bank? They were always so glamorous and so assured. It’s the kind of confidence you get from knowing you can make any kind of money you want and you don’t need a man to do it for you. I want to have people shout out my name and I want to see a flashbulb pop when I smile. That’s my dream. Not spending all day in a hair salon and looking in the mirror for wrinkles, worrying about losing my meal ticket. I want the fairy tale, the happy ever after. I don’t want to be anyone’s mistress.”
“Even if you had the fairy tale you’d fuck it up.”
“I’d like to give myself the opportunity. I’m leaving town, Angel.”
“You can’t do that.”
“I can, unless you plan to shoot me and throw me in the river with some of your ex-associates. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I don’t have my father to worry about anymore so there’s no reason for me to stay.”
“You going to run after Garcia, is that it?”
“Where’s my bag and my keys?”
“I asked you a question, is this about Garcia?”
“He thinks I’m crazy, Angel, and you know what? I think he’s right. Now where’s my bag?”
He looked sulky. He leaned against the door. “You’re not leaving here.”
I sat down. “Okay. But you can’t stand there forever. Sooner or later you got to sleep or go out and dump a body in the river or something. So either you get your goons to tie me up and throw me in the trunk, or give me my things and get the hell out of the way.”
“You know your trouble? You don’t appreciate nothing. You know how much I spent on you?”
“I think you got your money’s worth, I got lockjaw to prove it, but if you like I can give you an IOU. What’s the bill?”
His face screwed into a grimace. “Don’t go,” he said.
I touched his cheek, but when he tried to touch me back I held his wrists and stopped him. “I’ve lost you, haven’t I?” he said, like he only just knew it.
I pushed him back on the bed. I would give him this one last time. I took off his clothes and did all the things he liked, with my mouth, with my hands. But I promised myself I would not let him touch me, never again.
I kissed his neck, his chest, cupped him in my fingers, made him groan and twist. Then his eyes went wide; it was all over so quickly. I went into the bathroom to wash up, and when I came back my bag was on the antique oak table in the middle of the room. He was standing out on the balcony, his back to me, staring at the sea.
I opened my purse. The cutting of Reyes and me was gone. I guessed there was no point in
“You’ve had a terrible loss, you can’t go home, not like this. You’re staying here.”
“You mean you’ve kidnapped me?”
“No, I haven’t kidnapped you.”
“Then where are my clothes?”
He debated with himself. Then he lost it and threw the pills at the wall. “Jesus H!”
I opened the closet. He’d hung my dress up for me. It hit me then, that he probably did love me, finally, in his own way. Life was a funny thing.
I slipped my dress over my head, found my shoes and put them on. “Where’s the rest of my things?”
“What the hell are you going to do?”
“I’m going to organize a funeral for my papi, and then pack up my things. I don’t have a whole lot to move, so it shouldn’t be hard.”
“And go where? You want me to find you a place? I can get you a nice apartment, right on the beach, a fancy car. You can have a nice life, baby, you won’t have to worry about anything anymore.”
“You want me to be your mistress?”
“Sure, what’s wrong with that?”
“That’s sweet of you, Angel, but I have to pass.”
“You should think about this, it’s a good offer.”
“If I was a ten-dollar hooker, it’s a great offer. Call me crazy, but I’m setting my sights a little higher than that.”
“Yeah, on what?”
“I have this dream. You remember all those actresses used to come to the Left Bank? They were always so glamorous and so assured. It’s the kind of confidence you get from knowing you can make any kind of money you want and you don’t need a man to do it for you. I want to have people shout out my name and I want to see a flashbulb pop when I smile. That’s my dream. Not spending all day in a hair salon and looking in the mirror for wrinkles, worrying about losing my meal ticket. I want the fairy tale, the happy ever after. I don’t want to be anyone’s mistress.”
“Even if you had the fairy tale you’d fuck it up.”
“I’d like to give myself the opportunity. I’m leaving town, Angel.”
“You can’t do that.”
“I can, unless you plan to shoot me and throw me in the river with some of your ex-associates. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I don’t have my father to worry about anymore so there’s no reason for me to stay.”
“You going to run after Garcia, is that it?”
“Where’s my bag and my keys?”
“I asked you a question, is this about Garcia?”
“He thinks I’m crazy, Angel, and you know what? I think he’s right. Now where’s my bag?”
He looked sulky. He leaned against the door. “You’re not leaving here.”
I sat down. “Okay. But you can’t stand there forever. Sooner or later you got to sleep or go out and dump a body in the river or something. So either you get your goons to tie me up and throw me in the trunk, or give me my things and get the hell out of the way.”
“You know your trouble? You don’t appreciate nothing. You know how much I spent on you?”
“I think you got your money’s worth, I got lockjaw to prove it, but if you like I can give you an IOU. What’s the bill?”
His face screwed into a grimace. “Don’t go,” he said.
I touched his cheek, but when he tried to touch me back I held his wrists and stopped him. “I’ve lost you, haven’t I?” he said, like he only just knew it.
I pushed him back on the bed. I would give him this one last time. I took off his clothes and did all the things he liked, with my mouth, with my hands. But I promised myself I would not let him touch me, never again.
I kissed his neck, his chest, cupped him in my fingers, made him groan and twist. Then his eyes went wide; it was all over so quickly. I went into the bathroom to wash up, and when I came back my bag was on the antique oak table in the middle of the room. He was standing out on the balcony, his back to me, staring at the sea.
I opened my purse. The cutting of Reyes and me was gone. I guessed there was no point in
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