Irrevocable (Evan Arden 5)

“My apologies.” Her nod tells me I’m forgiven for my language.

“The work a man does can impact other areas of his life,” Lele says. “It is not an easy life you live, and it is hard on you and those close to you. Perhaps I brought her here too late for some, but I hope she will be able to help those who cross our path in the future.”

I think about it for a moment and wonder if she’s right. If Lia had someone to talk to about what I did, would she have been able to cope with the ramifications? I’m not so sure.

“People who aren’t in this life shouldn’t try to be a part of it,” I say.

“You may be right,” Lele says softly, “but sometimes we can’t help but wish they could be.”

“Because there’s no way out of it.”

“No, Evan dear, there isn’t. You just have to make the best of what you have.”

At first, I think she’s talking about me, but as I watch her fingers twist together, I know this is self-reflection on her part, and I don’t like it. Maybe she’s willing to put up with Rinaldo’s infidelity for the sake of peace, but that doesn’t make me any less pissed off about it. Despite her words, I know Lele feels hurt.

Betrayed.

If Rinaldo is my father figure, Lele is as close to a mother as I’ll ever have. Seeing her hiding her distress doesn’t sit well with me. If this situation continues, I might have to do something about it.

*****

Three weeks.

I’ve been driving up and down certain well-known streets of Chicago and searching for the perfect hooker for three weeks straight. I’ve taken seven of them back to my apartment and fucked three of them, but none of them knew what to think about me just wanting to sleep. The whole idea seemed to freak them out, as if my plan were to wait for them to doze off so I could slit their throats. I tried finding a random hook-up at a few of the bars and nightclubs around the Loop, but those didn’t work out for the same reason.

Tonight is no different. I’ve passed up three prospects for various shortcomings—flat asses, gum chewing, and probable drug use. I don’t need that kind of annoyance. If I were to wake up to find a chick banging heroin in my bathroom, I would probably kill her.

Ralph is hanging out at every street corner. Sometimes he points out one of the girls. Mostly, he annoys me. I wish he would just sit in the back seat or something so I could at least yell at him over the Camaro’s engine.

I’m about to give up on whores altogether when I drive down one last street. There are three girls on the corner. There’s no pimp in sight, but I’m sure there’s one close by. There always is. I recognize one of the whores as Loretta, the girl I took home the previous week. Dark-skinned and tall, she wouldn’t have anything to do with just sleeping in my bed. She left without even being paid.

One of the others is small and blonde. She looks more like a prepubescent boy than a woman and does nothing for me physically. I doubt she’s even eighteen yet. The third catches my attention. She has long legs and light brown hair that reaches almost to her rounded ass. She’s wearing tights under her short skirt and a jacket open enough that I can see her cleavage. I’m somewhat impressed that she doesn’t seem as willing to freeze her ass off like the others appear to be.

Loretta walks up to the window of my car as I pull over. As soon as she looks in, she shakes her head.

“No way,” she says as she places her hands on her hips. “I ain’t playin’ your games!”

“I want to talk to her.” I point to the one with the really long hair.

“Fine with me,” Loretta says as she steps away from the window. She calls out to the other girls and motions to them. “He wants Alina.”

I take note of the long-haired girl’s name, hoping I have enough cognitive function to commit it to memory. She walks up to the edge of my car, then looks over her shoulder at her comrades before leaning over and looking through the window at me.

“What are you looking for?” she asks.

“All night,” I tell her. “I’ll bring you back here in the morning.”

Alina looks over to Loretta, who turns her head to one side and raises her hands in a gesture of surrender. Alina examines the car for a moment before looking back inside at me.

Her eyes are bright blue. I stare straight into them while she contemplates. If her hair were darker, she would look a lot like Lele did in her younger years. A moment later, she nods over to the group and tosses her purse up over her shoulder. She opens the door and slides into the passenger seat. When she settles, she runs her hands over her skirt to straighten it before reaching back to find her seat belt.

“I’m Evan,” I tell her as I pull back into traffic.

“Alina,” she responds quietly.

I merge onto I-90 and then catch the Stevenson to make my way north to Lake Shore Drive, passing Soldier’s Field and all the museums. As I slow down to turn onto Wacker, she speaks.

“Would you mind if we stop at a drugstore?”