a
B
, and a
J.
According to Ric’s notes, Marcy had died just about eighteen months ago. And okay, the final comment he’d scribbled was
daughter dead from drug overdose.
That had to suck.
But then Annie spotted the rate of pay for which Ric had agreed to take this case. “A hundred dollars a day? Are you out of your mind?”
He turned and went back into his office, obviously unable to meet her accusing stare. “Her daughter’s dead, she’s on a limited budget, it’s going to take me fifteen minutes on the Internet to find Brenda…”
Annie followed him. She’d spent some time over the past week that she’d been here trying to talk him into taking her on as a partner—paying her with a percentage of the money that she helped him bring in. Currently, she was on salary, and aside from that reward he’d gotten along with the excess blood in his urine, he hadn’t earned nearly a quarter as much as he’d paid her last week.
“I’m not sure this is going to work,” she told him now. “This partnership thing. But you probably have more experience than I do. So maybe you can tell me, how exactly would you give me a percentage of a blow job?”
Ric looked up from straightening the papers and files on his desk and laughed. And then he stopped laughing. “You don’t really think…?”
“Twenty-seven minutes for a basic locate-the-whereabouts interview…?”
It was possible that she’d rendered him speechless.
“It complicates things,” Annie told him, perching on the edge of his desk. “I mean, if we’re partners and you get a blow job, what do I get?”
“I didn’t get a…She didn’t…I wouldn’t…” Ric was actually flustered, but then he laughed his exasperation as he shooed her off his desk and sat down in his chair. He adjusted his computer monitor and pulled his keyboard drawer out. “What kind of scumbag do you think I am?”
“The male kind?” Annie countered, sinking into the seat that Lillian Lavelle had recently occupied.
“And, by the way, this partnership,” Ric pointed out, literally, with a finger in her direction. “You’re right. It’s not going to work. Because it’s not going to happen.”
“Well, duh,” Annie said. “Because the blow-job thing’s a deal breaker. I mean, unless you can guarantee that every time you get one, I get one, too…Although I’m not sure exactly how to work that into the contract.
If the party of the first part receives fellatio, then the party of the second part—
”
“Not funny.”
“Yeah, actually it is,” she countered. “You’re laughing.”
He tried to stop. “No, I’m not.”
“Yeah, you are.”
“I’m laughing,” he practically shouted at her, “because I can’t believe we’re having a conversation about…this.”
“I can’t help but notice,” she said, keeping her voice a normal volume, “that you haven’t actually denied it. There’s been a lot of blustering and outrage, but—”
“I assure you that I have never had sex of any kind as payment offered for services rendered. Not with Lillian Lavelle or with anyone else.” There was a dangerously hot glint in his eyes as he looked at her. “Although if you really do want me to pay
you
that way…”
The Annie she’d been ten years ago would have flushed with embarrassment at that heat, even though she was well aware it was meaningless. Ric looked at all women like that. With genuine appreciation. Regardless of the woman’s shape or size or age.
Yeah, Ric Alvarado didn’t just look at women. He smoldered at them.
The Annie of ten years ago would’ve rolled her own eyes and backed away. Even the Annie of last year would have mumbled that he was a jerk, before slinking to her desk.
But the Annie that she was today was braver. Bolder. She’d stared down death, so she could certainly hold this mere mortal’s gaze.
And, in fact, he looked away first, closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead, muttering something in Spanish. “I
B
, and a
J.
According to Ric’s notes, Marcy had died just about eighteen months ago. And okay, the final comment he’d scribbled was
daughter dead from drug overdose.
That had to suck.
But then Annie spotted the rate of pay for which Ric had agreed to take this case. “A hundred dollars a day? Are you out of your mind?”
He turned and went back into his office, obviously unable to meet her accusing stare. “Her daughter’s dead, she’s on a limited budget, it’s going to take me fifteen minutes on the Internet to find Brenda…”
Annie followed him. She’d spent some time over the past week that she’d been here trying to talk him into taking her on as a partner—paying her with a percentage of the money that she helped him bring in. Currently, she was on salary, and aside from that reward he’d gotten along with the excess blood in his urine, he hadn’t earned nearly a quarter as much as he’d paid her last week.
“I’m not sure this is going to work,” she told him now. “This partnership thing. But you probably have more experience than I do. So maybe you can tell me, how exactly would you give me a percentage of a blow job?”
Ric looked up from straightening the papers and files on his desk and laughed. And then he stopped laughing. “You don’t really think…?”
“Twenty-seven minutes for a basic locate-the-whereabouts interview…?”
It was possible that she’d rendered him speechless.
“It complicates things,” Annie told him, perching on the edge of his desk. “I mean, if we’re partners and you get a blow job, what do I get?”
“I didn’t get a…She didn’t…I wouldn’t…” Ric was actually flustered, but then he laughed his exasperation as he shooed her off his desk and sat down in his chair. He adjusted his computer monitor and pulled his keyboard drawer out. “What kind of scumbag do you think I am?”
“The male kind?” Annie countered, sinking into the seat that Lillian Lavelle had recently occupied.
“And, by the way, this partnership,” Ric pointed out, literally, with a finger in her direction. “You’re right. It’s not going to work. Because it’s not going to happen.”
“Well, duh,” Annie said. “Because the blow-job thing’s a deal breaker. I mean, unless you can guarantee that every time you get one, I get one, too…Although I’m not sure exactly how to work that into the contract.
If the party of the first part receives fellatio, then the party of the second part—
”
“Not funny.”
“Yeah, actually it is,” she countered. “You’re laughing.”
He tried to stop. “No, I’m not.”
“Yeah, you are.”
“I’m laughing,” he practically shouted at her, “because I can’t believe we’re having a conversation about…this.”
“I can’t help but notice,” she said, keeping her voice a normal volume, “that you haven’t actually denied it. There’s been a lot of blustering and outrage, but—”
“I assure you that I have never had sex of any kind as payment offered for services rendered. Not with Lillian Lavelle or with anyone else.” There was a dangerously hot glint in his eyes as he looked at her. “Although if you really do want me to pay
you
that way…”
The Annie she’d been ten years ago would have flushed with embarrassment at that heat, even though she was well aware it was meaningless. Ric looked at all women like that. With genuine appreciation. Regardless of the woman’s shape or size or age.
Yeah, Ric Alvarado didn’t just look at women. He smoldered at them.
The Annie of ten years ago would’ve rolled her own eyes and backed away. Even the Annie of last year would have mumbled that he was a jerk, before slinking to her desk.
But the Annie that she was today was braver. Bolder. She’d stared down death, so she could certainly hold this mere mortal’s gaze.
And, in fact, he looked away first, closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead, muttering something in Spanish. “I
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