“Nice shirt. You going for your real-estate license?”
“Baby, the only real estate that counts is the pretty grave the other guy goes in.”
“I love it when you talk dirty.”
She walks around the main room, running her fingers over the expensive furniture and paintings.
I say, “Rinko’s doing better?”
“She’s apprenticing with Allegra. Why don’t you let me worry about Rinko.”
“Okay.”
She circles the room to the area I’ve settled into near the chocolate-brown leather sofa, low coffee table, and a couple of overstuffed chairs near the TV.
“This is all yours?”
“I guess so. They keep it for Mr. Macheath. As far as I know, Lucifer is the only Macheath around.”
“So you can do anything you want.”
“Yeah. But I can’t decide between a gun range or a macramé studio.”
Candy jumps onto the sofa and bounces up and down like a kid on a bed, her short hair flapping around her face, her Chuck Taylors leaving soft footprints in the sofa cushions.
“You having fun up there?”
“This is really well built. They usually collapse by now.”
As she jumps she takes off her jacket and throws it at me. Then her shirt. Then her sneakers and her pants.
Still jumping, she says, “Come on. Let’s break it.”
I catch her on a jump and drop her flat on her back. Climb on the sofa and kneel over her. She unbuckles my pants while I take off my shirt.
This time it’s more like when we first stayed at the Beat Hotel together. We smash the coffee table when I flip her over on top of it. We knock over potted bamboos and splinter chairs. But we never make a dent in the sofa.
Later, my phone rings.
“Answer that and you’re a dead man,” Candy says.
“Since when do you ever not answer your phone?”
“That’s not what I mean. I just don’t want a bunch of monsters or demons coming over so I have to get dressed.”
“There are robes in the bedroom.”
“Really? I love robes.”
She disappears down the hall. The phone stops ringing.
She comes out in a maroon terrycloth bathrobe as thick as the Lawrence, Kansas, white pages.
“Is ‘robegasm’ a word?” she asks. “Because if it is, I just had one.”
My phone pings. There’s a text from Kasabian. Someone broke into Max Overdrive.
I pick up the hotel phone and call the front desk.