Myron smiled. “So I’ll lie,” he said. “I’ll tell them you slept with him.”
“I did not!” she screamed. “That’s, like, so unfair.” Myron shrugged helplessly.
She crossed her arms and chewed her gum. Her version of defiance. It didn’t last long. “Okay, okay, I’ll go.” She pointed a finger at Myron. “But I don’t want Tit to see me, okay? I stay in the car.”
“Deal,” Myron said. He shook his head. Now they were after a man named Tit. What next?
The Parker Inn was a total redneck, biker, skeezer bar. The parking lot was packed with pickup trucks and motorcycles. Country music blared from the constantly opening door. Several men in John Deere baseball caps were using the side of the building as a urinal. Every once in a while one would turn and piss on another. Curses and laughter spewed forward. Fun city.
From his car parked across the street, Myron looked at Mindy and said, “You used to hang out here?”
She shrugged. “I, like, came here a couple of times,” she said. “For excitement, you know?”
Myron nodded. “Why didn’t you just douse yourself with gasoline and light matches?”
“Fuck you, all right? You my father now?”
He held his hands up. She was right. None of his business. “Do you see Tito’s truck?” Myron just couldn’t call him Tit. Maybe if he got to know him better.
Mindy scanned the lot. “No.”
Neither did Myron. “Do you know where he lives?”
“No.”
Myron shook his head. “He deals drugs. He wears a swastika tattoo. And he has no ass. But don’t tell me … underneath all that, Tito is really sweet.”
Mindy shouted, “Fuck you, all right? Just fuck you.”
“Myron,” Esperanza said by way of warning.
Again Myron put his hands up. They all sat back and watched. Nothing happened.
Mindy sighed as audibly as possible. “So, like, can I go home now?”
Esperanza said, “I have a thought.”
“What?” Myron asked.
Esperanza pulled the tail of her blouse out of her jeans. She tied it up, making a knot under her rib cage and revealing plenty of flat, dark stomach. Then she unbuttoned her top to a daring low. A black bra was now visible, Myron noticed, trained detective that he was. She pulled down the visor mirror and began to apply makeup. Lots of makeup. Far too much makeup. She mussed up her hair a bit and rolled up her jeans cuffs. When she finished she smiled at Myron.
“How do I look?” she asked.
Even Myron felt a little weak at the knees. “You’re going to walk in there looking like that?”
“That’s how everyone in there dresses.”
“But everyone doesn’t look like you,” he said.
“Oh, my, my,” Esperanza said. “A compliment.”
“I meant, like a chorus dancer in West Side Story.”
“ ‘A boy like that,’ ” Esperanza sang, “ ‘he keel your brother, forget that boy, go find another—’ ”
“If I do make you a partner,” Myron said, “don’t dress like this at board meetings.”
“Deal,” Esperanza said. “Can I go now?”
“First call me on the cellular now. I want to make sure I can hear everything that goes on.”
She nodded, dialed the phone. He picked it up. They tested the connection.
“Don’t go playing hero,” he said. “Just find out if he’s there. Something gets out of hand, you get out of there pronto.”
“Okay.”
“And we should have a code word. Something you say if you need me.”
Esperanza nodded, feigning seriousness. “If I say the words premature ejaculation, it means I want you to come.”
“So to speak.”
Esperanza and even Mindy groaned.
Myron reached into his glove compartment. He snapped it open and pulled out a gun. He was not going to be caught unprepared again. “Go,” he said.
Esperanza hopped out of the car and crossed the street. A black Corvette with flame decals on the hood and an extravrooming engine pulled up. A gold-chain-enmeshed primate raced the engine and leaned his head out the window. He smiled greasily at Esperanza. He hit the gas again, giving off a few more deep vrooms. Esperanza looked at the car, then at the driver. “Sorry to hear about your penis,” she deadpanned.
The car drove off. Esperanza shrugged and waved at Myron. It wasn’t an original line, but it never failed her.
“God, I love that woman,” Myron said.
“She’s, like, totally hot,” Mindy agreed. “I wish I looked like her.”
“You should wish to be like her,” he corrected.
“What’s the difference? She must, like, really work out, right?”
Esperanza entered the Parker Inn. The first thing that hit her was the smell—a pungent combination of dried vomit and body odor, only less olfactorily pleasing. She wrinkled her nose and continued inside. The floor was hardwood with lots of sawdust. The light was dingy, coming off the pool table ceiling fixtures that were supposed to look like imitation Tiffany lamps. The crowd was probably two-to-one men over women. Everyone was dressed—in a word—cheesy.
Esperanza looked around the room. Then she spoke out loud so that Myron would hear her through the phone. “About a hundred guys in here fit your description,” she said. “It’s like asking me to find an implant in a strip club.”
Myron’s phone was on mute, but she’d bet he was laughing. An implant at a strip club. Not bad, she thought. Not bad at all.
So now what?
People were staring at her, but she was used to that. Three seconds passed before a man approached her. He had a long, kinky beard; bits of coagulated food were lodged in it. He smiled toothlessly, looked her up and down unapologetically.
“I’ve got a great tongue,” he said to her.
“Now all you need is some teeth.”
She pushed past him and made her way to the bar. Two seconds later, a guy jumped toward her. He wore a cowboy hat. Cowboy hat. Philadelphia. What’s wrong with this picture?
“Hey, sweetheart, don’t I know you?”
Esperanza nodded. “Another line that smooth,” she said, “and I may start to undress.”
The cowboy whooped it up like it was the funniest thing he had ever heard. “No, little darling, I’m not handing you a line. I’m serious here.…” His voice sort of drifted off. “Holy shit!” the man cried. “It’s Little Pocahontas! The Indian Princess! You’re Little Pocahontas, right? Don’t deny it now, darling. It’s you! I can’t believe it!”