Page 49 of Reaper
The irony of looking for a guy named Big Dick in a topless club was not lost on me, and I figured I needed a little fortification before I started a fight, so I went over to the bar where the prettiest girl in the building, who was also the most dressed, was pulling beers.
“What’ll it be?PBR is on special—two-dollar tallboys.”She was maybe twenty-five, with red hair and sleeves of tattoos that were way better than the bouncer’s.There was a hardness around her eyes that told me she had either a baseball bat or a twelve-gauge under the bar, or maybe both, and she knew how to use them.
“What’s your best Scotch?”I asked.
“Shitty,” she said.“None of the guys who come in here know the difference between Glenlivet and Wild Turkey, so the boss just fills expensive bottles with crap bourbon.We’ve got good tequila, though.The guys in the corner like their agave, so the top shelf tequila’s real.”
“Gimme four shots of Don Julio, then,” I said, sliding another picture of Old Ben across the bar.“Keep the change.”
“Cop, fed, or cartel?”she asked as she poured the shots.
I knocked back two and raised an eyebrow at her.“What gave it away?”
“You haven’t been staring at my tits, so you’re here for something besides sex, you sound like you’ve at least walked past a college once, so you’re more educated than anyone else in the building besides maybe me, and you’re flashing cash in a way that’ll get you killed in here most nights, but you don’t look nervous, so you’re either packing or you’re backed by somebody scarier than Dick and his boys.”
“Or both,” I said, draining the next two shots.“Fed.And believe it or not, I don’t want any trouble.And I don’t want to arrest anybody.”
“Too bad,” she said.“Been a while since I got to put Ethel to work.”
“Ethel the bat under the bar?”
“Yeah.”
“Is the shotgun named Fred?”I asked.
She smiled, and I liked her.“Yep.Ethel does most of the work.Fred’s usually just loud, but when he needs to throw down, he can.”
“If I go over there and talk to Big Dick, is he going to give me any shit?”
“Depends on how many of those Benjis you’re willing to throw around,” she said.“Dick’s exactly what his name implies, but he’s a cheap dick.If you just want information, five hundred oughta get you out without a fight.If you really want shit to go peaceful, take this bottle with you.”She slid the Don Julio over to me.
“How much?”I asked.
“Get me a job interview.I was only working here until I finished my degree at UNCC, and that was a few months ago.So I’m looking for a new gig.Preferably one that smells less like body glitter and bad decisions.”
I passed her my business card, which was really Becks’ card with her name scratched out and mine scribbled over it.“Call this number and ask for Deputy Director Flynn.”
“You mean like the Deputy Director Flynn whose card it really is?”
I like her, said the very same Deputy Director Flynn in my mind.
Me too,I replied.She might be a good addition.
Dunno if we want to bring a mundane into our world, Harker.
Yeah, but it worked out alright with you,I said.And you could always get her a gig somewhere else in Homeland.Somewhere she might not have to fight werewolves on the regular.
“Yeah, that Deputy Director Flynn.Tell her Quincy Harker referred you to her.I’ll make sure she’s expecting your call.What’s your degree in?”
“Criminal Justice with a minor in Psych.I want to be an FBI profiler someday.”
“Well, good luck with that,” I said.“But call Flynn.She’s good people.”
“And good luck with Dick,” she replied, then giggled.“That didn’t sound good.”
No, it didn’t, but I was going to need all the help I could get with Dick and the boys he was hanging with, so I carried the bottle of Don Julio over to the rope and looked at the massive biker.
“Big Dick?”
