Las Vegas Noir by Jarret Keene Read Free Book Online

straightened her skirt, shot a toxic glance at Natalie that said: Your mother can’t protect you. “Now what quantity are you here for? I have things to do.”
    Sergeant Becker called Jimmy in, told him to close the door. He was a big man, the kind who could lord over you even sitting down. “This Pitney thing, I’ve gone over the reports.” He picked up a pencil, drummed it against his blotter. “Your buys are light.”
    He stared into Jimmy’s whirling eyes. Jimmy did his best to stare right back.
    “I’m a gentleman. I always offer the lady a taste.”
    “She needs to sample her own coke?”
    “Not sampling, indulging. And there’s always some lost in the field test.”
    “Think a jury will buy that? Think I buy that?”
    “You want me to piss in a cup?”
    Becker pretended to think about that, then leaned forward, lowering his voice. “No. That’s what I most definitely do not want you to do. Look, I’ll stand up for you, but it’s time you cleaned house. You need some time, we’ll work it out. There’s a program, six weeks, over in Bullhead City, you can use an assumed name. It’s the best deal you’re gonna get. In the meantime, wrap this up. You’ve got your case, close it out.”
    Jimmy felt a surge of bile boiling in his stomach—at the thought of rehab, sure, the shame of it, the tedium, but not just that. “Like when?”
    “Like now.” Becker’s whole face said: Look at yourself . “Why wait?”
    Jimmy pictured Sam in her sundress, face raised to the light, hand in her hair. Moisture pooling in the hollow of her throat. Lipstick glistening in the heat. He said, “There’s a kid involved.”
    Becker stood up behind his desk. They were done. “Get CPS involved, that’s what they’re there for. Make the calls, do the paperwork, get it over with.”
    “For chrissake, don’t overthink it. Sounds like the last nice guy in Vegas.”
    It was Mandy talking, Sam’s old best friend at the Roundup. She’d stopped by on her way to work, a gram for the shift, and now was lingering, shoes off, stocking feet on the coffee table, toes jigging in their sheer cocoon. They were watching Natalie play, noticing how her focus lasered from her ball to her bear, back to the ball, moving on to her always mysterious foot, then a housefly buzzing at the sliding glass door.
    “Dating the clientele,” Sam said, “is such a chump move.”
    “Rules have exceptions. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be rules.”
    Natalie hefted herself onto her feet, staggered to the sliding glass door, reached for the fly—awestruck, gentle.
    “He’s got a bit of a problem.” Sam tapped the side of her nose.
    “You can clean him up. Woman’s work.”
    “I don’t need that kind of project.”
    “If you don’t mind my asking, how long’s it been since you got laid?”
    Admittedly, sometimes when Jimmy was there, Sam felt the old urge uncoiling inside her, slithering around. “To be honest, I do mind you asking.”
    They weren’t close anymore, just one of those things. To hide her disappointment, Mandy softly clapped her hands at Natalie. “Hey, sweetheart, come on over. Sit with Auntie Man a little while.” The little girl ignored her, still enchanted by the fly. It careened about the room—ceiling, lampshade, end table—then whirled back to the sliding glass door, a glossy green spec in a flaring pool of sunlight.
    “She doesn’t like me.”
    “She can be persnickety.” Sam glanced at the clock. “Don’t take it personally.”
    “You think if you let this guy know you were interested, he’d respond?”
    Sam felt another headache coming on. Each one seemed worse than the last now. “It’s not an issue.”
    “You’re the one playing hard to get, not him.”
    Jimmy’s last visit, Sam had almost thrown herself across his lap, wanting to feel his arms around her. Just that. But that was everything, could be everything. “I’ve given him a few openings. Nothing obvious, but since when do you need to be