“What? I have grandchildren so I don’t have sex?” Mira asked.
“Yes. No. I don’t know. That’s the point.”
Mira poked a finger at Eve’s arm. “You have such a charming streak of prude. As I was saying, Dennis, given the right stimulation, can still go for two. When you’ve been married as long as we have, there are often stretches where warmth, comfort, the life rhythm stand in for sex. I wish that for you, Louise. The warmth and the comfort of a long life together, with the two rounds to surprise you both. Dennis is The Owl. Wise and quiet.”
“What’s Charles?” Nadine demanded. “The suave licensed companion turned sexual therapist. The sex has to be amazing.”
“Isn’t it just?” Louise gave a slow, satisfied smile that put a glow in her gray eyes. “He’s The Leopard. Elegant, graceful, strong—and believe me, he can travel across the mesa. And back again.”
“Leopards, puppies, owls—even snakes are sexy,” Nadine complained. “I get a limp turtle. Your turn,” she said to Eve, then wagged a finger when Eve shook her head. “Then I’ll project. Panther. Sleek, mysterious, coiled, with an elegance and purpose of movement.”
“Okay.”
“Not fair! Okay, what’s the record? How many times?”
“If you can count them, he didn’t drop you out.”
Nadine groaned, shuddered, grinned. “Bitch.”
Amid the laughter, Louise opened the next gift. Eve sipped her coffee. “Wolf,” she murmured, without thinking.
“Yes.” Beside her, Mira patted her hand. “They mate for life.”
When the last present was sighed over, Trina got to her feet. “Okay, girls, back to your stations. Next round of treatments.” She turned, bared her teeth at Eve. “I pulled you.”
“No. I’m not—”
“Yeah, you are. Everybody plays. Somebody get this woman a drink. The hair. It’s mine.”
She could handle a haircut. Probably. Particularly since there was no escape. “I don’t want a body treatment,” Eve began. “I don’t want a face treatment. I don’t want—”
“Yeah, yeah, blah, blah. Sit.” Someone passed Trina a Bellini, which she pushed into Eve’s hand. “I saved you for last, first round anyway. We’re here for the duration if anybody wants to go again. It’s nice what you’re doing here.”
Eve narrowed her eyes suspiciously as Trina arranged her torture tools. “What am I doing here?”
“Having everybody here like this. Louise is okay. Real okay. Got a solid base. Me, I don’t have a lot of no-fucking-ways, but I couldn’t’ve fallen for an LC and stuck. Not the big fall, you know? But she did, because he was the guy. And now she’s got the whole piñata and all the candy inside. It’s nice to have everybody here to get a bang out of it.”
Just as Eve relaxed, as she considered there might be some skinny patch of common ground here, Trina turned, and her eyes went to slits. “Now what the fuck have you done to my hair? Hacked at it didn’t you? Just couldn’t let it alone or call me in to deal?”
“I didn’t—I only. It’s my hair.”
“Not once I put the scissors to it, sister. You’re lucky I’m a genius, and a humanitarian. I’ll fix it, and I won’t shave it bald down the center to make my point.”
Trina grabbed a bottle and began to spray a mist on Eve’s hair while she worked it with her fingers. “Plus you need a facial and an eye boost. You got some fatigue.”
“It’s not fatigue, it’s alcohol. I’ve been drinking.”
“I say you got fatigue, you got fatigue. I know about Morris’s lady. Sick about it because that’s one prime man—on all counts. You’re going to get the bastard, but you’re not going to do it with hacked-up hair and tired skin. I got standards.”
“You want the hair? Take the hair, but leave the rest of me alone. I’ve got—”
Her ’link beeped. Eve struggled to get her hand under the miles of cape, into the pocket of her dress. Trina just nipped in, pulled it out. “She’s busy,” she snapped even as Eve cursed her.
“Unrecognized voice print. Transmission for Dallas, Lieutenant Eve.”
“Give me that, goddamn it.” Eve grabbed, shoved. “Dallas.”
“Dispatch, Dallas, Lieutenant Eve. Report to 509 Pearl Street. Officers on-scene. Body on second floor visually identified as Sandy, Rod, subject of your APB.”