[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
the next set, and Trish abandoned the girl for the stage.
The kid finished the food in about three seconds flat. Tannim had never seen a
kid put away food so fast, and the way she cleaned up every crumb argued that
it might well have been the first meal she'd had today. She lingered over the
dregs of her cola until Trish was obviously wrapped up in her song. Then a
look of bleak determination passed over her face, and she slid out of her
seat; and without a single glance at Tannim or even in his direction, she went
back to the bar.
Tannim sighed, half in relief, half in exasperation. All right, he said to
himself. She's genuine. Now what am I going to do about her?
CHAPTER FIVE
Just as Tannim asked himself that question, the girl found a mark.
It wasn't one of the regulars, and Julie hadn't even bothered to try to find
the jerk a table. He was holding up the bar, more than two sheets to the wind,
and up until the kid cruised by, he'd been insisting that Marianne, the
barkeep, turn on a nonexistent television. He jumped all over her tentative
overture, so much so that it was obvious to half the bar that he'd picked her
up. The guys on either side of him gave him identical looks of disgust when
they saw how young the girl was, and turned their backs on the situation.
Unfortunately, Tannim wasn't going to be able to do that. Not and be able to
look himself in the mirror tomorrow. Hard to shave if you can't do that. . . .
Well, he knew one sure-fire way to pry her away from Mr. Wonderful. And it
only required a little magic. With a mental flick, he set the two tiny spells
in motion. With the first, a Command spell, he cleared people to one side or
the other of a line between his table and her. With the other, a simple look-
at-me glamorie, he caught her eye.
At precisely the moment when she looked his way, down the open corridor of
bodies, he flicked open his wallet, displaying his Gold Card, and nodded to
her. Her eyes were drawn to it, as if it was a magnet to catch and hold her
gaze. Only after she looked at it did she look at him. She licked her lips,
smiled, and started toward him.
Tried to, rather. The drunk grabbed her arm.
"Hey!" he shouted, rather too loudly. "Wa-waitaminit, bitch! You promised me
some fun!"
All eyes went to the drunk, and none of the looks were friendly. Kevin Barry's
was not the kind of pub where the word "bitch" would go unnoticed.
So much for taking care of this the easy way.
Tannim was up and out of his seat before the girl had a chance to react to the
hand gripping her arm. He grasped the drunk's wrist and applied pressure. The
drunk yelped, and let go. "I think she's changed her mind," he said, with
deceptive gentleness.
The drunk yanked his hand away, and snarled aggressively, "Yeah? And what's a
faggot artsy punk like you gonna do about it? Huh?"
His hands were balling into fists, and he swung as he spoke, telegraphing like
a Western Union branch office. Tannim blocked the first blow with a little
effort; the second never landed. Three patrons landed on the drunk, and
"escorted" him outside. And that was all there was to the incident; Kevin
Barry's was like that. Tannim was family here, and nobody messed with family.
And nobody even looked askance at Tannim, for guiding a kid barely past
training bras back to his table. It would be assumed that, like Trish, his
intentions were to keep the kid out of trouble, and maybe talk some sense into
her. He caught Sam's eye as he made a show of pulling a seat out for her; the
old man was anything but stupid. "I'll be at the bar," he said as Tannim sat
down. "I can hear the band better over there."
That was a palpable lie, since the bar was far from the stage, but the girl
didn't seem to notice. Sam vanished into the crowd, leaving Tannim alone with
the girl. She looked around, nervously; tried to avoid his eyes.
But then, young hookers are always nervous.
"So, what's your name, kiddo?" he asked quietly, projecting calm as best he
could, and regretting the fact that he wasn't an Empath.
"Tania," she said, so softly he could hardly hear her.
"Tania. Okay, my name's Tannim. We've both got the same first syllable in our
names, that's a start." She looked up at him, startled, and he grinned. "Well,
heck, it's not much of a line, but it beats 'Come here often? What's your
sign?' "
She smiled back a little. "Wh-what do you want me to do?" she asked bluntly.
"W-we could go to your car and-"
My car. So she hasn't even got a place of her own. The thought sickened him.
How long had she been turning tricks in strange men's cars?
"What's your rate?" he asked, just as bluntly.
She didn't bat an eye. "Sixty an hour."
Right. You wish. And you'd take sixty a night. He raised an eyebrow,
cynically. "Give me a break. That's for somebody with a little more experience
than you've got."
She wilted faster than he expected. "Forty?" she said, tentatively.
He watched her over the top of his drink, as Trish belted out one of her own
compositions, the notes sailing pure and clear above the crowd. "Sixty and
forty. Okay, that makes a hundred. Let me tell you what you're going to do for
a hundred."
She looked frightened at that, and she might have tried to get up and run
except that he was between her and the door. He wondered if she'd gotten an
"offer" like this before. And if she'd gotten away relatively undamaged.
Yes to the first question, from the look of fear in her eyes-and no to the
second. It was all he could do to keep up the pretense; to keep from grabbing
her hand and dragging her to his car, and taking her straight to Keighvin.
"No, I'm not a cop," he told her; "and I'm not going to bust you. I'm not into
S and M and I'm not going to hurt you." A little of the fear left her eyes,
but not all of it, not by any means. "I am a pushover."
He looked up long enough to signal Julie with his eyes. She hustled over to
his table as soon as she'd set down the other customer's beer. Tannim's tips
were legendary in the River Street bars and restaurants, and that legend
ensured him downright eager service.
"Julie, I need four club sandwiches with everything-to go." He nodded
significantly and she winked at him, turning and heading towards the kitchen
with the order. He turned back to Tania.
"Okay, that's a hundred dollars for tonight; the first time. You take it, you
go home if you've got one. You get off the damn street, at least for tonight.
You get a room if you don't have a home." He slid the five twenties he fished
out of his wallet across to her. She looked at them, but didn't touch them.
"Use what I gave you for seed money; start putting a real life together for
yourself. I come here a lot. You find me here and ask me for help, you get
another hundred to keep you going-but only if you aren't doing drugs. Believe [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl rafalstec.xlx.pl
the next set, and Trish abandoned the girl for the stage.
The kid finished the food in about three seconds flat. Tannim had never seen a
kid put away food so fast, and the way she cleaned up every crumb argued that
it might well have been the first meal she'd had today. She lingered over the
dregs of her cola until Trish was obviously wrapped up in her song. Then a
look of bleak determination passed over her face, and she slid out of her
seat; and without a single glance at Tannim or even in his direction, she went
back to the bar.
Tannim sighed, half in relief, half in exasperation. All right, he said to
himself. She's genuine. Now what am I going to do about her?
CHAPTER FIVE
Just as Tannim asked himself that question, the girl found a mark.
It wasn't one of the regulars, and Julie hadn't even bothered to try to find
the jerk a table. He was holding up the bar, more than two sheets to the wind,
and up until the kid cruised by, he'd been insisting that Marianne, the
barkeep, turn on a nonexistent television. He jumped all over her tentative
overture, so much so that it was obvious to half the bar that he'd picked her
up. The guys on either side of him gave him identical looks of disgust when
they saw how young the girl was, and turned their backs on the situation.
Unfortunately, Tannim wasn't going to be able to do that. Not and be able to
look himself in the mirror tomorrow. Hard to shave if you can't do that. . . .
Well, he knew one sure-fire way to pry her away from Mr. Wonderful. And it
only required a little magic. With a mental flick, he set the two tiny spells
in motion. With the first, a Command spell, he cleared people to one side or
the other of a line between his table and her. With the other, a simple look-
at-me glamorie, he caught her eye.
At precisely the moment when she looked his way, down the open corridor of
bodies, he flicked open his wallet, displaying his Gold Card, and nodded to
her. Her eyes were drawn to it, as if it was a magnet to catch and hold her
gaze. Only after she looked at it did she look at him. She licked her lips,
smiled, and started toward him.
Tried to, rather. The drunk grabbed her arm.
"Hey!" he shouted, rather too loudly. "Wa-waitaminit, bitch! You promised me
some fun!"
All eyes went to the drunk, and none of the looks were friendly. Kevin Barry's
was not the kind of pub where the word "bitch" would go unnoticed.
So much for taking care of this the easy way.
Tannim was up and out of his seat before the girl had a chance to react to the
hand gripping her arm. He grasped the drunk's wrist and applied pressure. The
drunk yelped, and let go. "I think she's changed her mind," he said, with
deceptive gentleness.
The drunk yanked his hand away, and snarled aggressively, "Yeah? And what's a
faggot artsy punk like you gonna do about it? Huh?"
His hands were balling into fists, and he swung as he spoke, telegraphing like
a Western Union branch office. Tannim blocked the first blow with a little
effort; the second never landed. Three patrons landed on the drunk, and
"escorted" him outside. And that was all there was to the incident; Kevin
Barry's was like that. Tannim was family here, and nobody messed with family.
And nobody even looked askance at Tannim, for guiding a kid barely past
training bras back to his table. It would be assumed that, like Trish, his
intentions were to keep the kid out of trouble, and maybe talk some sense into
her. He caught Sam's eye as he made a show of pulling a seat out for her; the
old man was anything but stupid. "I'll be at the bar," he said as Tannim sat
down. "I can hear the band better over there."
That was a palpable lie, since the bar was far from the stage, but the girl
didn't seem to notice. Sam vanished into the crowd, leaving Tannim alone with
the girl. She looked around, nervously; tried to avoid his eyes.
But then, young hookers are always nervous.
"So, what's your name, kiddo?" he asked quietly, projecting calm as best he
could, and regretting the fact that he wasn't an Empath.
"Tania," she said, so softly he could hardly hear her.
"Tania. Okay, my name's Tannim. We've both got the same first syllable in our
names, that's a start." She looked up at him, startled, and he grinned. "Well,
heck, it's not much of a line, but it beats 'Come here often? What's your
sign?' "
She smiled back a little. "Wh-what do you want me to do?" she asked bluntly.
"W-we could go to your car and-"
My car. So she hasn't even got a place of her own. The thought sickened him.
How long had she been turning tricks in strange men's cars?
"What's your rate?" he asked, just as bluntly.
She didn't bat an eye. "Sixty an hour."
Right. You wish. And you'd take sixty a night. He raised an eyebrow,
cynically. "Give me a break. That's for somebody with a little more experience
than you've got."
She wilted faster than he expected. "Forty?" she said, tentatively.
He watched her over the top of his drink, as Trish belted out one of her own
compositions, the notes sailing pure and clear above the crowd. "Sixty and
forty. Okay, that makes a hundred. Let me tell you what you're going to do for
a hundred."
She looked frightened at that, and she might have tried to get up and run
except that he was between her and the door. He wondered if she'd gotten an
"offer" like this before. And if she'd gotten away relatively undamaged.
Yes to the first question, from the look of fear in her eyes-and no to the
second. It was all he could do to keep up the pretense; to keep from grabbing
her hand and dragging her to his car, and taking her straight to Keighvin.
"No, I'm not a cop," he told her; "and I'm not going to bust you. I'm not into
S and M and I'm not going to hurt you." A little of the fear left her eyes,
but not all of it, not by any means. "I am a pushover."
He looked up long enough to signal Julie with his eyes. She hustled over to
his table as soon as she'd set down the other customer's beer. Tannim's tips
were legendary in the River Street bars and restaurants, and that legend
ensured him downright eager service.
"Julie, I need four club sandwiches with everything-to go." He nodded
significantly and she winked at him, turning and heading towards the kitchen
with the order. He turned back to Tania.
"Okay, that's a hundred dollars for tonight; the first time. You take it, you
go home if you've got one. You get off the damn street, at least for tonight.
You get a room if you don't have a home." He slid the five twenties he fished
out of his wallet across to her. She looked at them, but didn't touch them.
"Use what I gave you for seed money; start putting a real life together for
yourself. I come here a lot. You find me here and ask me for help, you get
another hundred to keep you going-but only if you aren't doing drugs. Believe [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]