Loitering With Intent (Stone Barrington 16) - Page 51
“His mama’s belly, where do you think?”
“Where did he live before South Beach?” Stone could hear some papers shuffl ing.
“Santa Fe.”
“In New Mexico?”
“No, in Alaska. A very hot spot, I hear.”
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“How long was he there?”
“A month, give or take. Same thing with the girls. I hear he’s cute. Lemme give you my P.O. box for the hundred, which you’ve used up.” He gave the number and zip code. “You want to start on a second hundred?”
“You got anything else?”
“No, but I’ll take the second hundred.”
“Thanks, Manny, you’re a prince.” Stone hung up.
“Was he always like that?” he asked Dino.
“Always. Did you call the Swede? You promised.”
Stone sighed and got out his cell again.
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STON E L A Y ON his back, panting. The ceiling fan was a blur above him. For the past two hours, off and on, he and Annika had explored every nook and cranny, every orifice, every nerve ending in both their bodies. To his credit, even she seemed tired.
“Tell me, Stone,” she said, “what do you do?”
They were going to have the fi rst-date chitchat now? “Do you really want to know?”
“I don’t ask what I don’t want to know.”
“I’m an attorney.”
“Why do lawyers always say they are attorneys, instead of lawyers?”
“Because lawyers have a bad name with a lot of people.”
“And attorneys don’t?”
“Oh, no. Attorneys are a different class of people altogether. Much higher up the totem pole.”
“They are Eskimos?”
“Just a fi gure of speech.”
“Americans use a lot of figure of speeches.”
“Yes, we do. You will, too, when you’ve been here a little longer.”
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