The imposing Hotel Excelsior proclaimed itself the finest in the state. It was surely the oldest, all high rooms, Greek columns, and plaster details picked out in gilt. After Pierce freshened up in his room and made a few calls, he went down to the long, dark bar for a steak and a bourbon.
If Princess wanted to eat, she would probably order room service. He guessed that after a day like today, she wouldn’t have much of an appetite, but you couldn’t ever tell. Things take people in surprising ways.
The bar had no other customers. His steak was thick, juicy and tender, exactly as rare as he liked. After he ate, he moved up to sit at the long, heavy bar.
The bartender, Charlie, was a tall, stacked redhead in a starched white shirt, scooped vest, and well-cut black pants, nipped in at a high waist. When she talked, she shook her red curls, and when she laughed, which she did a lot, she tipped her chin up and let out a sparkling ripple. Her dancing green eyes held him and her tongue often parted her full, ruby lips.
Pierce hadn’t much else to do that evening, and Charlie was making it pretty clear that she’d like to get off when she got off. The thought depressed him.
Then he caught sight of Princess coming down the wide, formal stairs. Her hair was wet and she hadn’t put on any makeup. Her thin dress and boots were fabulously out of place in the grandness of the big hotel.
He felt an urge to run up to her, grab her, and take her out on the town. Find some little place to dance where they could do whatever they liked because neither of them would ever be there again.
What it was that drew him so powerfully to her was a mystery. The girls he usually dated—okay, he didn’t really date, he had to call it what it was—the girls he usually fucked once and never wanted to see again, they weren’t a bit like her.
She didn’t put on an act, she didn’t wear a mask of any kind. What you saw was what you got; she was who she was, and if you didn’t like it, too bad. That was enough for Pierce to respect her right there.
Maybe that was it. He was coming to respect her. Today must have been pretty hard for her, but the only times she made any kind of a complaints were on the drive in the morning, right at the beginning.
When there had been serious situations to face, Princess was cool. He certainly liked that about her.
When the whole deal with Hotsteppa’s was over and it served its purpose, he wondered if maybe there would be some kind of a way. Probably not, he thought. She’s never going to forgive you. Shame. Nice idea.
He took another pull of the bourbon while Charlie told him another outrageous thing that her sister did. Or maybe she did something that outraged her sister; he’d stopped listening a while back. His back lengthened as Princess turned toward the bar.
She saw him and he thought she was going to change her mind and not come. He watched her think about it. Not looking anything like a fashion model or a celebrity. Looking like a real woman.
She decided and approached the bar. “Have a drink,” he offered.
She came nearer. She smelled of soap and fresh strawberries in hay, and an elusive trace of a fragrance that he couldn’t place. When she said, “What?” he was going to say the next thing more quietly, to make her come closer still. He’d done it with a million girls before. But not Princess. He didn’t want to do any of that bullshit with her.
He didn’t think Princess was a girl he would ever get the chance to be himself with, but as he swirled his glass, he found he was wishing.
“Some champagne,” he offered her. “Or maybe a champagne cocktail. Charlie can fix one of those, can’t you, Charlie?”
Charlie pressed the tip of her tongue to the inside of her lip and said huskily, “Like you never tasted.”
Princess scowled. “I’ll have tequila, salt, and a slice of lemon.” Charlie nodded. Princess pointed to the table in the dark, far corner. “I’ll take it over there,” she added, and he watched the sway of her hips as she headed for the corner.
“Make yourself comfortable,” Charlie said briskly. “I’ll bring it to you.”
When Pierce told Princess, “I’ll join you,” Charlie’s face dimmed by about fifty watts.
Over her shoulder, Princess said, “In that case, bring a bottle. With a couple of lemons and a knife.”
They sat, she on the padded bench, in the corner like she had in the car. He took a chair and leaned on the table. “Did you eat?” he asked her. “Do you want something?”
Her head moved once: no. Charlie brought the tequila bottle on a tray with two shot glasses, slices of lemon, and a pile of salt on a plate. She poured two shots. Pierce’s eyes didn’t leave Princess as he thanked Charlie.
As soon as Charlie left, Princess made a fist, licked the side with her thumb, dropped some salt on in a little pile, and licked it straight off. Then she bit into a slice of lemon and sunk the shot.
Without looking up, she poured another and did the same again.
Her voice was steady but thin. “Was he really… I mean, did he do those things?”
“You mean—”
“Don’t say his name, okay?”
Pierce paused. “Yes, he did. There was plenty of evidence for a conviction. There wasn’t any doubt. The police just never found him.”
“But you did.” She was still looking down.
“That was easy. I was looking in the other direction.”
“What do you mean?”
“I found him because I needed the rights on that property, so then I wanted to know who he was and where he came from. Any time I’m making a serious deal—any kind of a deal, really—I want to know everything there is to know about the guy on the other side of the table.”
“Like Dale Horner?”
“Pretty much.”
“You didn’t need to be so generous to him, though.”
“To Dale? I wasn’t generous at all. That’s what I mean about doing the research on the other party. Nothing less would have made him want to sell.”
“The school fees, I get that. You didn’t have to lease the land back to him though, did you?”
Pierce grinned. “You bet I did. He thinks he’s getting a great deal there, but I’m getting the land cared for and looked after for free.” He took his shot, with the salt and lemon.
So, she had followed all of that through. Even after the events of the morning, she kept all of that straight in her head. She was sharp, no doubt about it.
“Well,” he said, pouring shots in both glasses, “I’m glad you came down. I was wondering if you might be in need of a little distraction. Something in the way of recreation.”
Now she looked up. Her eyes were dark and liquid and her voice was absolutely level. She put her hand over his. “If you’re thinking about entertainment, Mr. Agostini, I suggest you get back to Charlie. She’s so hot for you that if she got out of her pants too fast, it would give her the bends.”
Pierce Agostini had never wanted a woman so much in all of his life as he wanted Princess right then.