Deadly Lullaby by Robert McClure Read Free Book Online

show of affection may or may not be heartfelt.
    One obvious reason for my uncertainty is that she is a working girl and will say and do what needs to be said and done in order to keep living in the manner in which she has become accustomed.
    And I would be fine with this.
    The thing is, I am beginning to suspect she truly digs me above and beyond our business relationship—is falling in love with me, if you will (or thinks she is)—and is chasing the universal dream of all hookers, the one of landing a financially secure man to rescue her from the carnal drudgeries of her life. It is the subtle things she says and does: the way she expresses concern over my high-calorie diet (we eat one meal together almost every day, usually at landmark joints that serve burgers and steaks, ethnic); the starry-eyed way she stares at me after we have screwed, all flushed and giggly, seemingly surprised at her euphoric postcoital state; and the chatty text messages she sends me 24/7.
    Could be, too, I freely admit, that my conceit has overwhelmed my common sense and I have fallen for the oldest act in the world. Maggie is a part-time acting student, after all (or claims to be), and her madam said she specializes in providing the service known as the “GFE,” or “Girlfriend Experience,” meaning she is an expert at pretending she genuinely loves her john.
    If she truly desires to elevate our so-called affair beyond business sex, I will be concerned. She is a rare catch and would make a fine companion, at least for a while. My concern is how the life I live would ultimately impact the one I would share with her. The one wife I took got caught up in my world and turned against me. A whore never has.
    My curiosity over her true feelings was one reason I did not cancel the supposed Asian I had originally planned for Leo.
    The women walk to the other side of the car.
    Maggie tells me to sit tight and opens the back door for her friend, slams it shut after her. When Maggie slides into the front passenger seat, the leather seat welcomes her superior ass with a teasing rustle and a soft
phoosh
as she settles in.
    “This is Ronni, without an
E,
” Maggie says to me.
    I flash her a smile through the rearview. “I am Babe, Ronni,
with
an
E.
Pleasure to meet you,”
    Ronni reaches from the backseat to pat my shoulder. “Hi ya, Babe. What’s shakin’, hunk?”
    My gaze hardens. “Hey, you sound like a Jersey girl. You are supposed to be Asian.”
    “Maaan, you
dinky dau
or what?” Ronni nudges her Gucci sunglasses down to reveal her eyes. “I’m a hundred percent Asian. Mom’s Vietnamese and my old man was a Nip.”
    I nod approval.
    She smiles, nods back with a wink, and fingers her shades back in place.
    Maggie flips down the vanity mirror behind the visor to touch up her lipstick. “Where are we picking up your son?”
    Here goes: “There is not going to be my son now. Now it is just us three.”
    She halts the lipstick midstroke and slowly turns her head to me. “Just us three,” she says, nothing in her voice.
    I knew she would be jealous. I
knew
it.
    “Yeah,” I say. “He just called to say he had an emergency to tend to. I did not want to ruin Ronni’s plans on such short notice”—a shrug—“so…”
    “You didn’t even
know
Ronni until a minute ago.” She throws the lipstick into the open purse in her lap, shuts it with a brisk
snap,
and glares straight ahead. “How could you
possibly
be concerned about her plans?”
    “I figured she was a friend of yours, and a friend of yours is a friend of mine, right?”
    “Me and Maggie just met,” Ronni says from the back, rummaging inside a purse that seems half the size she is, “but I can already tell we’re gonna hit it off.” She looks up. “I can tell the same thing about you, too, Babe.” She tilts down her glasses, winks at me again in the rearview. “So, you know, all the pieces fit. I’m cool with a threesome.”
    “I
bet
you are,” Maggie