Read Online Nick's Trip by George P. Pelecanos - Free Book Online

were a marked-down dress, then crossed one lovely leg over the other.
    “So,” she said. “Been peeping in any windows lately?”
    “It’s very pane-full.” I drew out the last word so she could get it, but humor wasn’t her shtick. In fact I had never seen hersmile. I lit a cigarette because I knew she didn’t like it and childishly bounced the match off the side of the crystal ashtray that was next to the coaster. Some smoke drifted her way and she made a small wave of her long, thin hand, like she was shaking off a bug. Mercifully, that was when Jackie walked into the room.
    She was wearing an above-the-knee black evening dress with multicolored Mylar buttons down the front and gold piping around the neckline. Above the curve of the neckline was the top of her firm cleavage, the ridge of her sternum, and the tightly muscled traps of her shoulders. She had on patterned black stockings, and on the ends of those stockings were medium-heeled black pumps. There was a black patent leather belt that was tight enough to showcase her thin waist and the curve of her hips. Her black hair was swept up on one side and held in place by a thin diamond barrette. I thought I could see a bit of the flames from the fireplace reflecting off her bright brown eyes.
    “How do I look?” she asked.
    Sherron said, “Hot.”
    I said, “I’ll say.”
    Sherron ignored that, and I finished the rest of my drink while they kissed. Sherron helped Jackie on with her cashmere coat, smoothed the front it, and walked us to the door. We said our tearful good-byes and then Jackie and I were alone and out in the hall. We walked to the elevator, called for it, and waited.
    “You do look good,” I said.
    “So do you,” she said. “You clean up very nicely.”
    “I don’t think Sherron likes me too much.”
    “She’s really nice, Nick. But you can lay on that Peck’s Bad Boy act a little thick. And she’s probably a little jealous. Wouldn’t you be?”
    “Yep.”
    The elevator arrived and we got into it. I closed the accordion gate and through it watched the marble staircase as it appeared to rise while we descended through its center.
    “I used to love these things when I was a kid. The old Dupont Building, where Connecticut and Nineteenth meet at the Circle, had a gated elevator and a uniformed operator to go with it.”
    “Me too,” she said. “I think this elevator was what closed the deal for me on this place.”
    “So who am I supposed to be tonight?”
    “Anyone you want. Let ’em guess. These company Christmas parties get pretty rowdy, and I figured I could use an escort.”
    “Rowdy accountants?”
    “Yeah. Once a year they’re expected to cut loose.”
    “Sounds like my meat,” I said.
    “Do me a favor, Nick. Don’t be an asshole.”
    THE PARTY WAS IN the penthouse of a new office building on the east edge of Alexandria and on the river, past National and just past Dangerfield Island. We parked Jackie’s Subaru in the garage and, with a couple of foxy receptionists who had arrived at the same time, took the elevator up as far as it would go.
    A mustachioed young man tediously took our coats when we stepped off the elevator. I retrieved my cigarettes and switched them to my jacket pocket, and we entered the party room. It was situated on the northeast corner of the building, and two of the walls were thick glass. The north view stretched past the lights of National to the Mall and the major monuments. The east view shot over Goose Island in the Potomac to Bolling Air Force Base and then into Anacostia and P.G. County.
    The floor was shiny and veined to approximate black marble. There were several freestanding Corinthian columns scattered about the room that looked to be made of papier-mâché, their shafts painted a poinsettia red. Thick green ribbons were tied and bowed around the columns that I assumed had been rented for the affair. A swing combo situated on a narrow balconywas playing jazzy Christmas standards.