The woman took a deep drag from his Pall Mall and passed it back, stained red with caked lipstick. Harlan made no effort to conceal his irritation. Thick smoke floated above the bed and mixed with the stale odors of a room that he figured, like the hooker, was most profitable when rented by the hour. She raised her arms above her head to stretch, and Harlan took in the sight as she arched her back so all that touched the dingy cotton sheets were the bottoms of her tiny feet, the smooth blades of her shoulders, and the cheeks of her round perfection. In terms of her vocation, Harlan believed she had chosen wisely.
“Give me another drag.” She reached out, but Harlan snatched the cigarette away, his elbow striking hard against her bare breast.
“Back off, bitch. For what I’m payin’, you can buy your own damn smokes.”
“Jeez. You got a mean streak.”
She clutched her chest in pain, and Harlan surmised she was unaccustomed to such rough treatment. A genuine and verifiable redhead, she’d earned her wages and then some, although probably not under the cordial relations she preferred. Harlan sensed her intent to wrap things up and be on her way. He had other plans, and he spoke to correct her thinking.
“I’m gonna finish my smoke in peace. Then we’ll get back it at. Go clean up some. I want it fresh.”
“This ain’t no all-you-can-eat buffet. You want another helping, it’ll cost you.” Harlan saw her calculating the dollars against what she must know would be another rough ride. He could almost see the price going up.
“Don’t worry about the money. You’ll get what you earn, but right now you carry the stink of used whore. I said, clean up.”
“You’re an asshole,” she mumbled as she strolled naked to the bathroom, massaging her still-aching breast. “Why don’t you watch some TV or something? You need to relax.”
Harlan took her advice and flipped through the channels, stopping when he came to a news broadcaster talking about the arrest of a local businessman. Sitting up in bed, he listened closely as the reporter spoke of a federal investigation that led to the arrest of Henry Lipinski, owner and operator of Big Henry Used Auto Sales. The reporter mentioned that Lipinski was a former law enforcement officer; his arrest was sending shock waves throughout the community of Chippewa Falls. The twenty-two-year-old prostitute stepped out of the bathroom, dripping wet from the shower and wrapped in a towel. She looked on as a disheveled, irate man was roughly shoved into a police car by several uniformed officers.
“Hey, I know him. That’s Big Henry. He’s one of my regulars.” She sat on the edge of the bed, and her towel dropped to her waist.
The reporter continued, “Hundreds of pornographic images have been retrieved from the computers of Lipinski’s auto dealership, and according to authorities, there is ample evidence that Lipinski is associated with a child pornography operation that may have spanned the country and beyond.”
“Aw, Jeez. I just can’t believe that. Wow. He didn’t seem like that kind of a guy to me.” The sympathy in her voice touched a nerve, and Harlan felt his anger start to build.
“Yeah? Well, last last I checked, dick-smokin’ hookers don’t get picked for jury duty. Maybe you could be like a character witness or something.”
She pulled up her towel and spoke with what Harlan figured was her attempt to change the tone. “I guess you just never know about people, huh? He sure fooled me.”
“I guess you don’t.” His attention was drawn away from her and back to the screen. “He don’t look all that smug now, does he? Ask me, he looks scared shitless.”
She slid up close, smelling of soap, and began to work him with her hands. Harlan went on, “Yeah. He’s a son of a bitch, all right. Former sheriff Henry Lipinski of Florence County, Wisconsin. He and few of his associates locked my ass up for life. At least that’s how they had it figured.”
“Wow. Prison, huh? That explains a lot.” There was admiration in her voice. She teased him with her tongue. “It don’t seem to have hurt you any.”
“I did seventeen years in their bullshit joint and I coulda done another seventeen. They ain’t gonna take nothin’ out of me I don’t wanna give ’em.” He gestured to the television. “But this jerk-off? He’s going to the joint as a cop and a kiddie-porn dealer. They’re gonna have fun with him. I give ’im a year tops.”
She looked at the screen, her expression and tone of voice betraying her sympathy for the arrested man. “I don’t know. Times I was with him, he seemed like a real gentleman.”
“He ain’t gonna be nobody’s gentleman now. Give ’im a couple months, and I wager he’ll be downright giddy to suck a cock just to avoid the alternative.”
She scrunched her face at the crude image, then looked up from her kneeling position with doubt in her eyes. “How come you know so much?”
“’Cause I set his ass up. That prick is going down because of me.” He glared. “Sorry if that’s gonna fuck up your weekly earning capability.”
She slowed her work, and Harlan, already regretting his own loose tongue, knew she was considering the exchange. A john who spoke so loose was trouble, especially one careless enough to boast about his misdeeds. She looked at him, and he gave her a hard stare.
“You’ve got a pryin’ nature considerin’ your line of work.” He pushed down hard on the back of her head. “Just shut up and get at it. I gotta get on the road.”
Her hands shook with nervousness, and he knew she sensed danger closing in. She backed off and her voice cracked with fear.
“You can have whatever you want. I won’t charge you. It’s okay. I don’t even know your name.”
Harlan said nothing, knowing he had already run his mouth plenty. He’d fucked up and he knew it. No question what had to be done, but no reason to interrupt the girl’s work. She practically read his thoughts, and tears welled in her eyes before she finished him off with her mouth.
He lay back for a moment, spent, eyes shut. He felt her slide from the bed and knew she was trying for her clothes. She didn’t get three feet before he grabbed her by the hair and threw her onto the bed. Her skull banged sharply on the wooden headboard. Before she could scream, Harlan brought a pillow down hard over her face. A ruthlessness overtook him and the menace in his voice surprised him.
“So he’s a little gentleman friend of yours, huh? What are the odds of that? I pick up a streetwalkin’ whore who’d stoop so low as to fuck that fat piece of shit.”
Her screams were stifled, but it took his full weight to keep her on the bed. For a small gal she demonstrated a good bit of scrap. She flailed at the air for a moment as if to get her bearings, then balled up her fist and delivered a blow flush on his chin.
Harlan laughed, unhurt but impressed by her effort. He put his full weight on the hand holding the pillow and reached for his backpack with the other. She must have heard the rip of the holster’s Velcro, and that brought on a whole new reaction. Her muffled screams grew more intense, and Harlan felt the violence of her kicks that were strong enough to elevate her entire body off the bed. He held firm.
Harlan kept up the smothering weight and then added a tight circle of pressure just about where he figured the bridge of her nose would be. She stopped thrashing and raised her arms. Her muffled screams turned to desperate sobs. Harlan picked up on her attempts to beg but couldn’t take a chance on anything more merciful than a quick end. When he pulled the trigger, Harlan figured at worst she heard the muffled crack, but more than likely she didn’t feel a thing.