Page 103 of Road Queens
“So are you gonna keep up with the boning or what?” Cassandra asked.
“That’s up to him,” she replied stiffly.
“It really isn’t,” Cass said. “Or at least, not just up to him.”
“I think it’s cool that this isn’t about sport fucking,” Sidney said. “And he seems okay. Keep banging, get to know him, have fun, maybe some babies in a bit.”
“I’m getting married before I have babies. And for his own safety, I’ll have to insist Sean take my surname. Sean Miller sounds much safer than Sean Beane.”
“Good call.”
“But we’re getting ahead of ourselves.” Amanda turned to Dave. “Don’t you think?”
“I’m just sitting here pretending to read my niece’s book because this conversation is making me uncomfortable.” Dave slammed the book shut. “But listen. And I’m not just telling you this in a desperate ploy to change the subject. Marcus is a nice guy ... well. Not nice exactly. Polite, though, and intense, like I said earlier. I’ll get you in, but just ...”
“Spit it out, Dave, time’s not our friend. Lots to do; confronting a possible killer’s only one item on a long list.”
“What I’m saying is, if you get all up in his face, he’ll shut down or he’ll shut you guys down. Or he’ll give you the boot, and then I’ll have to explain why I brought a bunch of nosy strangers to ask him if he’s a killer.”
“Got it, got it,” Sidney said. “Don’t worry. We’ll be so fuckin’ cool, we’ll be the definition of cool. Like a penguin chillin’ on an ice floe cool.”
“That sounds like a lie,” Dave said glumly, but let it go.
“Amanda.” Cass turned her head, then reached back. “Gimme your hand.”
“I told you I don’t believe in fortune-telling,” she replied even as she obliged. “My palms are not a gateway to my past, present, or future. Their main function is to facilitate high fives.”
“Naw, I just wanted to check ...” Cass reached out, took Amanda’s hand, grinned at what she saw. “I thought I saw you with this. Never change.”
“No worries. I’m far too lazy.”
“Why? What’s wrong with your hand?” Dave asked.
“Not one thing. You’ve seen me use this at the store.” Amanda showed him her fingers. She was wearing a thick steel ring; one side of it was smooth save for a small bump. She pushed the bump, and a tiny razor slid out.
Twine cutter. She’d gotten the idea from an Andrew Vachss novel; the DA working with the main character routinely carried one to discourage any potential scumbag with a grudge. Slice it across someone’s face, Vachss had posited, and you were playing “got your nose!” for real.
“What’s Beane think about the fact that you sometimes walk around with a razor on your hand?”
“He doesn’t care; he was glad it wasn’t a wedding ring. This’ll sound nutty, but he seems to like everything about me.”
She waited for mocking laughter and/or one of Sidney’s bitchy observations. Instead, she got silence.
“You guys heard that, right?”
Sidney caught her gaze in the rearview mirror. “You’re awesome, you silly bitch. Didn’t you know? Sorry, I know the word’s overused—”
“‘Bitch’ or ‘awesome’?”
“Both, but I meant ‘awesome.’ Of course the Beane Machine thinks you’re nifty.”
She laughed. “Swear you’ll never call him that again.”
“Nope. That’s the new nickname. But listen, is it just that he looks hot in Dockers? Not that there’s even one thing wrong with that; he’s a great-looking fuck. But ... is that all there is? Maybe it’s too soon to tell.”
“He gets it,” Amanda said. “That and a big dick are all I require. Not that I’m a size queen. It’s all about the aesthetic.”
“Excellent. Keep it simple.”
