Chapter Two

Ziggy’s in my apartment by eight in the morning—way too soon to be civil to her. She’s disappointed she can’t tell me her tale right off because I’m too drowsy. Instead, she curls up next to me on top of my covers and falls asleep.

“You smell like sex,” she says when we open our eyes again. She’s fingering my hair and I swear I can feel that touch electrify every follicle on my head.

“I should,” I say.

“Humm,” her eyebrows arch with interest, as her soft palm reaches to caress my face. She smells like apricots while I carry the redolence of two men. “You going to tell me, or keep me in the dark?”

“A guy in the skyscrapers ordered cigars from Henry. Turns out he knows Rico, and wanted my ass last night. They took me at the same time.”

“Hey, you don’t fool around.” I can see she’s impressed.

“Surprised me, too.”

“And your new friend? You’ve got some magic in your eyes.”

“Never met a man as beautiful or sexy. If you felt my crotch right now it would wet from just the thought of him.”

“And he took your ass?”

“Best fuck yet.”

“I’m sure not getting that.” She looks at me thoughtfully wondering. “Could he be your secret pal.”

“Oh, please no.”

“But he could be.”

“He wouldn’t be that sleazy. Besides, it makes so sense. The notes don’t mean anything.”

“Going to see him again, you think?”

I don’t want to answer that question, thinking that if I do, it will jinx the prospect of another meeting. Fact is, I’m doubtful. Back to my theory of great looking guys not having relationships—particularly with women like me—I don’t want to entertain a lot of fantasy that’s only bound to disappoint. I shrug for Ziggy, and draw her cl