Injustice for all

49

The next night, I walk into the Chop House in Kings-port and look around. Her car is in the parking lot, but I don’t see her. I walk through the tables quickly. She isn’t there. When I get back to the lobby, I look into the bar. She’s sitting at a small table in a darkened area of the room. I walk in and sit down across from her. She smiles seductively.

“Damn, you look good in those jeans,” she says.

“Thanks. You look pretty hot yourself.”

She’s wearing a bloodred dress that matches her hair. The neckline dives so deeply that it reveals all but the bottom portion of her large breasts. She’s leaning forward on the table, which makes matters even worse. Or better, depending upon one’s point of view. She’s rubbed cream on her skin, and it shimmers in the candlelight. Her face looks as though it’s been made up by a professional. Her lips are full, her cheeks high, her jaw strong and angular.

Rita Jones, the receptionist at the DA’s office, is one of the sexiest women I’ve ever known. I’ve asked her to do me a favor-a huge favor-and she’s agreed, but with Rita, there’s always a price. Tonight, the price is dinner. She’ll do her best to seduce me, but both of us know it isn’t going to happen. She’s been trying to seduce me for fifteen years, since the very first time I met her. It’s become more of a joke these days than anything, but I’ve been around her long enough to know that if I drop my guard for a second, she’ll have me out of my clothes and into her bed before I’ve realized what’s happened.

“Did you tell your wife where you were going?” she says coyly.

“No. I value my marriage.”

“But isn’t that deceptive?”

“I’d rather think of it as prudent.”

“Are you going to get drunk with me?”

“Not likely.”

“Aren’t you at least going to have a drink?”

A waiter stops by the table and drops off two menus. I order a vodka martini, as much to quiet my nerves as anything else. I’m worried that someone will see me here with Rita and tell Caroline. I’m worried that someone from the office might walk in. I would have never picked this spot to meet, but she insisted.

“This is wonderful,” Rita says. “My favorite restaurant and my favorite man.”

“I’m glad you’re having a good time. Were you able to do what I asked?”

“Of course.”

“Where is it?”

“Not until we’re finished.”

I spend an hour eating and talking with Rita. She regales me with stories of her many conquests and bemoans the fact that she can’t stand the man she’s dating now, a personal injury lawyer named Steve Willis. When I ask her why she’s with him, she gives me an answer that’s pure Rita: “He’s loaded, and he’s hung like a horse.”

She’s funny, down-to-earth, and beautiful, but as she starts on her fourth glass of wine, her eyes begin to glaze over and her speech becomes slurred. The change is sudden, and it isn’t attractive.

“So whaddaya gonna do with this stuff?” she asks.

“What stuff do you mean?” I’m wondering whether there’s a sexual connotation to what she’s saying. There usually is.

“This stuff I brought you.”

“I’m sorry, Rita. I can’t tell you.”

“Well, I hope you nail his hide to the side of the barn with it. He’s a fucking pervert, you know.”

“No. I don’t know. And would you please keep your voice down?”

“Ooooohhh.” She giggles. “Ssshhhhhh!”

“Come on, Rita. Let’s get out of here.”

I pay the tab and manage to walk her out before anything too embarrassing happens. She begins to hiccup.

“You can’t drive,” I say.

“Sure I can.”

“No, you can’t. I’ll take you home. Can Steve bring you up here to pick up your car tomorrow?”

“The lazy bastard will probably pay somebody to pick it up,” she says. “He’s got more money than sense, you know.”

“Yeah, you told me.”

“But he’s got a fantastic schlong. Oops, wait just a second, sweetie. I almost forgot.”

She stumbles across the parking lot toward her car, a sharp little Chrysler Crossfire convertible that I’m sure she’s earned. I hear a beep, and the trunk pops open. She reaches in and pulls out a brown paper bag, then makes her way back toward me. I help her into my truck and pull out of the parking lot.

“I sealed every-” A hiccup catches Rita’s breath.

“I sealed everything in plastic Baggies and labeled it, just like you asked me to.”

“Thanks.”

I take the bag from her hand and put it in the glove compartment. She slides across the seat, cuddles up next to me, and puts her head on my shoulder.

“You don’t mind, do you?” she says. She hiccups again, and within thirty seconds, she’s fast asleep.