Part 37 (2/2)
”Yum,” I said.
”Use that complimentary card I sent you?”
”I haven't.”
”Really?” she said, her eyes widening in surprise.
”Really.”
”Why not?”
”I don't know. Maybe I've got some scruples I didn't realize I still had.”
”Need some more time to think about the job?”
”I do,” I said, hoping I could learn more by stringing her on.
”Okay, but don't take too long. Our offer won't last forever.”
The waiter arrived to replenish our drinks, rattle off the specials, and take our orders. She asked for the Chinese chicken salad. I ordered the club sandwich.
”So, Mulligan,” she said, ”how long before the Dispatch goes out of business?”
”Don't know. A couple of years, maybe.”
”Dad's been reading your stuff online. He says you don't write well enough to hook on with a slick magazine or make a living writing books.”
”I'm afraid he's right about that.”
”What will you do if you don't take our offer?”
”No idea.”
”Public relations?”
”Christ, I hope not. I'd rather dig graves than write press releases for Textron or flack for the governor.”
Vanessa shook her blond tresses and giggled. ”Scruples suck, don't they?”
”They do. I've tried to run them off, but they keep crawling back.”
The entrees arrived, and we both dug in.
”You said you wanted us to get to know each other,” I said. ”Is that a two-way street?”
”Got some questions about me, do you?”
”I do.”
”So ask them.”
”How come you live with your parents?”
”I didn't always. In my twenties, I was married for a couple of years, but that didn't work out. For obvious reasons. I moved back home, and I've been living there ever since.”
”Doesn't cramp your style?”
”I've got my own entrance. My lifestyle isn't an issue with Mom and Dad. And our main office is in the house, so my daily commute is a ten-second walk down the stairs.”
”What's it like being a woman who runs a business that exploits women?”
”It doesn't.”
”Come again?”
”I know you've been in our clubs, Mulligan. Have you watched the girls interact with the customers?”
”Sure.”
”The way they flirt to get the men to spend money on them?”
”I've watched them grind on laps and stick b.o.o.bs in faces. Had it done to me once or twice, too, but it didn't occur to me to call it 'flirting.'”
”And who do you think is being exploited in these situations?”
”Ah,” I said. ”I see what you mean.”
”There's always gonna be prost.i.tution, Mulligan. As long as men have cash and women have p.u.s.s.ies. Some of the girls do it because it's easier than working for a living. Some do it because it's the only way they have of making a living. We give them a safe, clean place to work. They get free medical checkups once a month. And we protect them from street pimps who would abuse them, hook them on heroin, and take most of their money.”
”You make it sound like a public service.”
Vanessa sighed and ran her finger around the rim of her empty c.o.c.ktail gla.s.s.
”Dad and I talked about closing the clubs after Attila the Nun's bill pa.s.sed,” she said. ”The money they bring in really isn't worth the ha.s.sle. But then we thought about what would happen to the girls if we closed up shop.”
”King Felix would happen,” I said.
”And a dozen more like him, yeah. So we decided to stay open.”
”By paying off the cops,” I said.
”Can you prove that?”
”Not yet, but I bet I could if I tried.”
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