Trust by George V. Higgins

fine, but not nine.’ At the time I thought: ‘Geez, this dame is old. Looks good, but she is old. Ah, what hell. Long as she sucks the cock.’ I was nineteen, twenty, all right? These old broads
were
old. Some of them almost twenty-five. But to me, they were old.
    “Okay,” he said, “this was New York. A little higher speed. Boston? Maybe ten years later, but no more’n that. You don’t believe me, just ask Nancy. Nasty, but the facts.
    “Now,” he said, “the next time Allen has a birthday with a zero in it, the first digit’s gonna be six. All right?”
    “Allen’s in good shape,” she said lazily, her eyes still shut. “His stomach’s flat as a rock. He doesn’t drink like you do, and he treats me very nice. You should look as good as he does, you get to be his age. You should look as good as he does,
now.
Let go my arm.” She shrugged it.
    Earl let go of her arm and turned in his seat. Her breasts rose and fell under the white sweater. She had a small smile. “He treats you like a toy,” he said. “An expensive toy, but a toy. The next birthday you see with a zero in it’s gonna have a three in it, too. He’s going to the island now, be with his lovely wife. His
third
lovely wife. How old is she? Probably close to forty. Twelve years or so older’n you are. You think that when you’re thirty-five, Allen’s still gonna be interested? Fat fuckin’ chance he will, thirty-five-year-old honey. I know you give great blow jobs, and that’s what Allen likes. But sucking cocks is not a job you need much training for. Couple outings, any broad can doit. I hear some guys can do it, too. There was talk like that in prison. What matters to guys like Allen is that the broad is
young
, and her tits’re high, and she looks like a fresh young tender piece of ass that only a rich man can buy. And then later on, replace. You got two years at the maximum before he goes and clumps you. You either get the bundle before he does that, or you go fuckin’ without. Try to find some other pigeon, when you’re thirty-three. You’ll be hanging around lounges. Looking out for plainclothes guys, and hoping for a trick. That’ll at least pay the room, so you got a place to sleep.”
    She opened her eyes. “Got lucky last night, huh?” she said.
    “I got laid,” he said, “if that’s lucky. Doesn’t take a lot of talent.”
    “Thanks a lot,” she said. “I’m coming home, you’re picking me up, but while you’re waiting, you screw.”
    “Well,” he said, “at least I didn’t have Allen’s dick in my mouth. Like some people that I could name.”
    She slapped him. “Earl,” she said, “I did it for you. You were the one, thought of it. It was all your idea, I start sweet-talking him. ‘Hey, this looks like love to me, Allen. How ’bout if I stop taking calls, stop going out to hotels?’ And he went for it. Well, it was a good idea. So far, at least, it has been. But if it turns sour, that’s not my fault. Wasn’t me that thought it all up. Wasn’t Allen, either. The whole thing was all your damned idea.”
    “Well,” he said, “and it was a good one. So long’s you remember the whole thing. The first thing’s a good thing, but it’s temporary. Guy doesn’t hurt you. Pays you in cash. Doesn’t need you around all that often,and the cops don’t care about that shit. Very good thing all around.”
    He slapped her. “But then comes the second part,” he said. “The big reason for this whole idea. You pick up some dingbat in some bar someplace, and you go his room with him, haul his ashes. And he’s a nice guy. He’s grateful. He does not beat you up. He gives you a big hundred bucks. Well, that’s great, but it’s like buying neckties wholesale for a buck, and selling them for fifty cents: You can’t make a profit on volume. And you can’t retire on what you make, turning tricks night after night, when Allen spots a new model.
    “You also,” he said, as she rubbed her left jaw,