Page 60 of Dirty Reads

SEVENTEEN

Jess

“WHERE are we going?”

“I told you, we’re going to meet someone. We need to see him before you try and buy that diamond back. I need to see if he knows anything.”

I loved being linked to the underbelly of the city. The criminal side of things. It excited me to no end to not know what was going on with Dick and his illicit activities. I preferred formulating my own version in my head. In my mind we were solving mysteries and stealing for the betterment of mankind while the bad guys were one small step behind us.

And I loved it.

I imagined being captured, kidnapped, held hostage and slapped around. Not a lot. No broken teeth or bones, just a good hard slapping from some sweaty guy who had a dingy tee shirt, four day’s growth of beard, and a beer belly. Dick would break the door down, kick the shit out of him just in time to save me, and we’d speed off in the Ferrari. Thinking about our criminal endeavors made me almost as wet as thinking about Dick’s big dick.

Not knowing was killing me. “So who is this guy?”

He turned the corner and shot me a glare. “You’ll see.”

I wondered if it was Duc or Drake, but I doubted it. Duc looked scary at the restaurant, and Drake was just fucking weird. I really hoped it wasn’t the guy with the creepy mustache, but I didn’t think Dick knew who he was for sure, unless he found out and didn’t tell me.

“It’s not that creepy fucker with the mustache, is it?”

“Yeah, it’s mustache man.”

“Seriously?”

“No, it’s not the guy with the mustache. I have no idea who that fucking guy is.”

I released a sigh of frustration. Not a big one. But a necessary one. “Okay.”

“When we go in here, don’t stare at his scar,” he said.

“He’s got a scar?”

“A big one. On his neck. It goes from right below one ear almost to the other ear. It’s pretty bad, just don’t stare at it.”

“Oh my God, what happened?”

“Guy tried to kill him. Cut his throat. Then, he crawled out into the street, and some lady almost fucking ran over him. She ended up taking him to the hospital. Saved his life.”

The guy who got his throat cut probably didn’t think so, but I thought it was an awesome story. “No shit?”

“No shit.”

I often felt that I was more sensible than most people. “Why didn’t she just call an ambulance.”

“They were in Mexico.”

“Oh.”

“Just remember, no staring. Look past him. At the wall or something.”

“Okay. I won’t stare.”

“He’ll probably try to get you to get high, too. Just tell him you don’t smoke.”

“I don’t.”

“Tell him that. Be adamant.”