Read Online Strip by Thomas Perry - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Thomas Perry
Tags: Suspense & Thrillers
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dark-colored T-shirts. He was sure that five minutes from now nobody would remember him, because in five minutes he would be replaced ten times by the next guys who looked just like him. One of the things he loved about L.A. was that there were a million of everything.
Jeff drove to the Siren Club and checked the parking lot for Lila’s shiny little red Honda. It was there, right where she liked to park it, under the bright lights mounted along the edge of the roof. Jeff turned south and west and drove to the diner he liked best because hardly anybody else did. He wanted a chance to be by himself and think through the acts he was going to have to perform later.
In the only stint he had ever done in prison, he had met a man named Girard. He preferred to be from France, but when he spoke French it didn’t sound like the French that Jeff’s teachers spoke. He was about sixty years old, but he could still do all sorts of gymnastics. During exercise periods he would do flips and cartwheels, and when he was in his cell he would walk around on his hands. He told Jeff that walking upside-down on his hands was the secret of his strength. It was true that he had very muscular arms and shoulders. He also told Jeff that his way to do anything difficult was to visualize it first, step by step in proper order. The method didn’t work very well for Jeff, because he usually did things on impulse and was very easily distracted. But he was determined to try again tonight.
He went into the diner and sat down facing away from the door. When the waitress came, he ordered a turkey dinner with gravy and potatoes and green beans, looked up at the mirror that ran the length of the back wall of the restaurant, and watched her walk away to hand in his order. Then he began the work of visualizing. He would arrive near the bank at 1:30 A.M. and spend some time studying the area to be sure there were no cops watching the building. He would then place himself in the parking garage near the back of the bank.
He looked straight ahead and saw the reflection of two young women walking in the front door. They were both about twenty-two or twenty-three, and they wore tight, low-cut, straight-leg jeans, and tops that had a little lace along the edge and straps like camisoles. They both had long brown hair with highlights streaked in to look like the effects of the sun, and skin that probably hadn’t been exposed to direct sunlight since they were nine. They saw the sign that said PLEASE SEAT YOURSELF, walked deeper into the restaurant, and stopped at the table right behind him. They both looked into the mirror briefly—first at themselves, then at him. His eyes met theirs and they looked away, kept smiling at each other and talking, and sat at that table anyway.
Jeff’s consciousness opened and filled itself with the two women until there was room for nothing else. His mind was captive. He listened only to them. The waitress brought his turkey dinner, and he was glad because it drew the attention of the two women, whose eyes followed it to his table. He cut his food into half-inch bits so he could eat slowly, letting his eyes move upward to the mirror at varying intervals to stray across the women. The one in the lime-green camisole had no trouble catching him at it every time. The first couple of times she pretended to give him a reprieve, looking away as though she thought he might actually have met her eyes accidentally. The third time she looked directly at him, gave him a quick smile, and raised her eyebrows in a question.
The woman seated with her back to Jeff glanced at her companion, half-turned to verify that the one she was silently communicating with was Jeff, then leaned forward to whisper to her. She set her napkin by her place, stood up, and walked past Jeff to the stairway that led to the restrooms. Jeff was aware that everything was some kind of test, so he willed himself not to watch her.
“I’m sorry if she looked at you in a
Jeff drove to the Siren Club and checked the parking lot for Lila’s shiny little red Honda. It was there, right where she liked to park it, under the bright lights mounted along the edge of the roof. Jeff turned south and west and drove to the diner he liked best because hardly anybody else did. He wanted a chance to be by himself and think through the acts he was going to have to perform later.
In the only stint he had ever done in prison, he had met a man named Girard. He preferred to be from France, but when he spoke French it didn’t sound like the French that Jeff’s teachers spoke. He was about sixty years old, but he could still do all sorts of gymnastics. During exercise periods he would do flips and cartwheels, and when he was in his cell he would walk around on his hands. He told Jeff that walking upside-down on his hands was the secret of his strength. It was true that he had very muscular arms and shoulders. He also told Jeff that his way to do anything difficult was to visualize it first, step by step in proper order. The method didn’t work very well for Jeff, because he usually did things on impulse and was very easily distracted. But he was determined to try again tonight.
He went into the diner and sat down facing away from the door. When the waitress came, he ordered a turkey dinner with gravy and potatoes and green beans, looked up at the mirror that ran the length of the back wall of the restaurant, and watched her walk away to hand in his order. Then he began the work of visualizing. He would arrive near the bank at 1:30 A.M. and spend some time studying the area to be sure there were no cops watching the building. He would then place himself in the parking garage near the back of the bank.
He looked straight ahead and saw the reflection of two young women walking in the front door. They were both about twenty-two or twenty-three, and they wore tight, low-cut, straight-leg jeans, and tops that had a little lace along the edge and straps like camisoles. They both had long brown hair with highlights streaked in to look like the effects of the sun, and skin that probably hadn’t been exposed to direct sunlight since they were nine. They saw the sign that said PLEASE SEAT YOURSELF, walked deeper into the restaurant, and stopped at the table right behind him. They both looked into the mirror briefly—first at themselves, then at him. His eyes met theirs and they looked away, kept smiling at each other and talking, and sat at that table anyway.
Jeff’s consciousness opened and filled itself with the two women until there was room for nothing else. His mind was captive. He listened only to them. The waitress brought his turkey dinner, and he was glad because it drew the attention of the two women, whose eyes followed it to his table. He cut his food into half-inch bits so he could eat slowly, letting his eyes move upward to the mirror at varying intervals to stray across the women. The one in the lime-green camisole had no trouble catching him at it every time. The first couple of times she pretended to give him a reprieve, looking away as though she thought he might actually have met her eyes accidentally. The third time she looked directly at him, gave him a quick smile, and raised her eyebrows in a question.
The woman seated with her back to Jeff glanced at her companion, half-turned to verify that the one she was silently communicating with was Jeff, then leaned forward to whisper to her. She set her napkin by her place, stood up, and walked past Jeff to the stairway that led to the restrooms. Jeff was aware that everything was some kind of test, so he willed himself not to watch her.
“I’m sorry if she looked at you in a
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