Hang on, I've got a small tape recorder. I'll record you so you can hear yourselves."We did, she did, and Blood Nut and I were shocked speechless. "I think we have got to think on this." You can stay the night if you like." I looked her in the eye with my one eye and she returned the look without a blink. To say I'm not pretty was truly doing me a kindness. On the left side of my face I'm scar tissue from my hairline to under my jaw, courtesy of a piece of shrapnel which also removed the back teeth on that side. My jaw needed to be wired together in a jerry-built repair effort at the time in the field unit. I still couldn't chew on anything tough on that side.The best of this country's plastic surgeons couldn't improve on what was, without removing almost all the skin off my backside; to my unbiased eye the right side was only marginally better and it's au naturel. My whole body was a network of scar tissue and botched operation results. And she was giving me a genuine offer without. Not some stranger’s house.”I’d upgraded him from a small apartment in a mediocre complex to a house. He didn’t correct me. Naturally.“Do you?”“Do I what?”“Want to hook up?”I turned to face him fully. This time he was staring into my baby blues. “Maybe.”Clemson smiled and made a twirling gesture with his finger. Corky looked at me, I nodded.“Maybe is better than no.”“Sometimes.”I had him, so I turned the conversation to tactics. “I’ll finish my drink and leave. Give me 20 minutes, then come to my hotel. Room 705.”I handed him a Marriott card that the hotel didn’t know about. It had the right address, but the phone would be answered by Sarah Cunningham, another of my freelancers. She’d say, “Marriott.” Probably over-planning on my part, but I tend to do that when dealing with cockroaches.I wrote ‘Sally Fields’ and ‘705’ on the back of the card. He read it, simpered and tucked it into his shirt pocket.“Why the 20 minutes?”“I want to shower and change.”“Gotcha.”I left. I had parked out.
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