Callie’s Last Dance

34.

Willow Breeland.

Las Vegas.

WILLOW STUDIES THE bald spot on the ancient head in her lap and briefly wonders how Carmine managed to upgrade the daily blow job to a full-service girlfriend experience. As he moves his head around she reminds herself to moan when appropriate, as he seems to prefer her low moan to the little gasping sound she usually makes when faking an impending fake orgasm. Thank God he isn’t into the full-blown porn star scream, because her acting range is limited, and it would be embarrassing if the front desk called to complain.

“Mmm,” she says. “Mmm.”

“You like that baby?” he says.

What she likes is the after-sex talks they have, where she learns about his businesses and the people working for him. This is only their third day together, and to his credit, he’s upgraded her from the fleabag motel she was in yesterday to a king room at the Venetian, with full room service and spa charging privileges.

“Mmm,” she says. “Mmm.”

Then-oh, for the love of God!-he starts motorboating her. He’s buzzing her vertical lips with his horizontal ones, thinking he’s driving her crazy.

She’s got to nip this shit in the bud before he turns it into a regular feature. But how do you tell Carmine Porello he’s a sexual moron without offending him?

“Honey, please don’t do that,” she says. “I love it, but…”

“But what?”

“My boyfriend Bobby used to do that. I don’t want to think of him, ever again. I want our time to be special.”

“Bobby did that?”

“Yes. I’m sorry.”

“But that’s my move!”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Shit!”

They’re quiet a moment.

“I shouldn’t have told you that.” She says, with a sigh. “Look, it’ll be okay. I’ll try not to think about him.”

“What? No way! I’m actually glad you told me that. But I swear, I could kill the bastard for ruining your pleasure like this.”

“I know, and he was such a jerk, I’d turn you loose on him in a heartbeat. But like I said, someone else already killed him.”

“Drug deal, right?”

“Right. Like I said, he’s the only man I’ve ever been with. But…can I tell you a secret?”

“Sure.”

“You know what you were doing to me just before that? Down there?”

“Yeah?”

“It was making me crazy!”

He smiles. “You really like that, huh?”

“Far as I’m concerned? That’s your move, baby!”

“Then let me serve up another round,” he says, and does.

“Mmm,” Willow says. “Mmm.”

When Carmine rolls over, it’s Willow’s turn. When she’s done, they lie on the bed together and snuggle.

“This is what I worked for all my life,” he says.

“Me?”

“Yeah. You’re my reward.”

“I feel the same way about you,” Willow says.

“Why?”

“I love your smile. And you make me feel safe.”

He kisses her forehead.

She purrs.

He says, “I don’t want you dancing at the club.”

“Why not?”

“You’re my girl. I want you to save this body for me.”

“But you’ve been so generous. I have to earn my keep.”

“You’ve earned it, believe me. And if we can keep meeting like this, well, let’s just say you won’t be sorry.”

“But I want to help you.”

“You are helping me.”

“In your business.”

He chuckles.

“What?”

“You’re a child. What do you know about business?”

“I’ve got a wonderful business sense. And accounting experience.”

“Accounting experience, eh?”

“Seriously.”

“Well, I’m accounting on you to stay here and be happy. You’ve got your spa, your room service, cable, internet…and me.”

“You’re in the best mood today!”

“I am. Wanna know why?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Roy’s dead.”

“Roy?”

“That motherfucker finally got what’s coming to him.”

“And that makes you happy?”

“Ecstatic! But here’s the twist. I didn’t have nuthin’ to do with it!”

“What are the police saying?”

“They’re saying he got shot while trying to attack someone with a baseball bat. But he obviously picked the wrong guy, ’cause whoever it was put two bullets in him.”

“Are you going after the guy?”

He says, “Can you keep a secret?”

“Better than anyone you ever met.”

“I’ll put the word out whoever did it needs to suffer. But secretly? I hope they don’t find him. Because the guy who whacked Roy deserves a medal!”

“You think they’ll find the shooter?”

“Yeah.”

“Why, were there witnesses?”

“Not yet. But he apparently crashed into the guy’s car, because there’s paint transfer. They’re looking for a burgundy car with the front smashed in. They’ll eventually find it.”

“You think they’ll check the airport parking lot?”

“Yeah, sure. Why?”

“Because that’s where I ditched the car.”

He stares at her face a minute, then starts to laugh.

“You got me!” he says, grinning.