JК
The Laughing Corpse :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 142 из 213Her skin looked very dark against the white lace ofhis shirt. Her fingernails were painted a bright pink, like Easter basket grass.
"Sorry to interrupt," I said, "but we don't have all night."
"This is not the one you seek then," he said.
"No," I said.
He gripped her arms just above the elbows and pushed her away. She struggled just a bit to reach him again. Her hands grabbed at his arms, trying to pull herself closer to him. He held her straight-armed, effortlessly. He could have held a semitruck effortlessly.
"I'll do you for free," she said.
"What did you do to her?" I asked.
"Nothing."
I didn't believe him. "Nothing, and she offers to do you for free?" Sarcasm is one of my natural talents. I made sure that Jean-Claude heard it.
"Be still," he said.
"Don't tell me to shut up."
The woman was standing perfectly still. Her hands dropped to her sides, limp. He hadn't been talking to me at all.
Jean-Claude took his hands away from her. She never moved. He stepped around her like she was a crack in the pavement. He took my arm, and I let him. I watched the prostitute, waiting for her to move.
Her straight, nearly naked back shuddered. Her shoulders slumped. She threw back her head and drew a deep trembling breath.
Jean-Claude pulled me gently down the street, his hand on my elbow. The prostitute turned around, saw us. Her eyes never even hesitated. She didn't know us.
I swallowed hard enough for it to hurt. I pulled free of Jean-Claude's hand. He didn't fight me. Good for him.
I backed up against a storefront window. Jean-Claude stood in front of me, looking down. "What did you do to her?"
"I told you, ma petite, nothing."
"Don't call me that. I saw her, Jean-Claude. Don't lie to me."
A pair of men stopped beside us to look in the window. They were holding hands. I glanced in the window and felt color creep up my cheeks. There were whips, leather masks, padded handcuffs, and things I didn't even have a name for. One of the men leaned into the other and whispered. The other man laughed. One of them caught me looking. Our eyes met, and I looked away, fast. Eye contact down here was a dangerous thing.
I was blushing and hating it. The two men walked away, hand in hand.
Jean-Claude was staring in the window like he was out for a Saturday afternoon of window-shopping. Casual.
"What did you do to that woman?"
He stared in the storefront. I couldn't tell exactly what had caught his attention. "It was careless of me, ma … Anita. My fault entirely.
"Sorry to interrupt," I said, "but we don't have all night."
"This is not the one you seek then," he said.
"No," I said.
He gripped her arms just above the elbows and pushed her away. She struggled just a bit to reach him again. Her hands grabbed at his arms, trying to pull herself closer to him. He held her straight-armed, effortlessly. He could have held a semitruck effortlessly.
"I'll do you for free," she said.
"What did you do to her?" I asked.
"Nothing."
I didn't believe him. "Nothing, and she offers to do you for free?" Sarcasm is one of my natural talents. I made sure that Jean-Claude heard it.
"Be still," he said.
"Don't tell me to shut up."
The woman was standing perfectly still. Her hands dropped to her sides, limp. He hadn't been talking to me at all.
Jean-Claude took his hands away from her. She never moved. He stepped around her like she was a crack in the pavement. He took my arm, and I let him. I watched the prostitute, waiting for her to move.
Her straight, nearly naked back shuddered. Her shoulders slumped. She threw back her head and drew a deep trembling breath.
Jean-Claude pulled me gently down the street, his hand on my elbow. The prostitute turned around, saw us. Her eyes never even hesitated. She didn't know us.
I swallowed hard enough for it to hurt. I pulled free of Jean-Claude's hand. He didn't fight me. Good for him.
I backed up against a storefront window. Jean-Claude stood in front of me, looking down. "What did you do to her?"
"I told you, ma petite, nothing."
"Don't call me that. I saw her, Jean-Claude. Don't lie to me."
A pair of men stopped beside us to look in the window. They were holding hands. I glanced in the window and felt color creep up my cheeks. There were whips, leather masks, padded handcuffs, and things I didn't even have a name for. One of the men leaned into the other and whispered. The other man laughed. One of them caught me looking. Our eyes met, and I looked away, fast. Eye contact down here was a dangerous thing.
I was blushing and hating it. The two men walked away, hand in hand.
Jean-Claude was staring in the window like he was out for a Saturday afternoon of window-shopping. Casual.
"What did you do to that woman?"
He stared in the storefront. I couldn't tell exactly what had caught his attention. "It was careless of me, ma … Anita. My fault entirely.