Shot Girl Read Online Free Page A

Rolodex." Jack Hammer bit back a smile. He was still balancing himself next to me—probably all that "dancing" gave him unusually strong muscles. "I won’t say anything," he promised.
    I tucked the card into my bag and thanked Jack Hammer. Instead of going away, like I’d hoped, he moved to the chair where Renee had been sitting. Jesus. Why did everyone think I wanted company?
    "Ralphie was right about you," Jack said.
    I didn’t even want to know. But Jack was hell-bent on telling me.
    "You’re pretty hot, even if you are pushing forty."
    I glared at him. "Don’t look for any dollar bills in your G-string from me, asshole."
    He laughed. Really laughed. Loud enough so heads turned. And I had to admit it—somehow it made him less smarmy.
    "Why do you do this?" I asked after a few seconds.
    "Do what?"
    "Get up onstage and pretend to fuck all those women?"
    "It’s safe sex."
    "I guess that’s one way to look at it. But it’s pretty gross."
    "I’ve got a nice condo on the water, and I drive a Porsche."
    Touché.
    "So why are you here tonight, then, if you disapprove?" Jack Hammer’s eyes were a deep brown, sort of like cows’ eyes, with big lashes, and he seemed really interested. Right. He got paid to seem really interested.
    "Bachelorette shit. I don’t know. Got talked into it."
    "You don’t seem the type to get talked into anything."
    I glanced around. Where the hell was Tom? Last thing I needed was to bond with a male stripper. But that’s exactly what was going on.
    "Is this a regular gig for you? I mean, here at the Rouge Lounge? Did you know Ralph well?" I asked, ignoring his comment.
    He shrugged. "We’ve been here a few times and at other places around the state. I know Ralphie from before."
    "Before what?"
    His eyes narrowed. "You know."
    I shook my head. "No, I don’t know."
    He studied my face for a few seconds, then must have decided I was telling the truth, because he leaned back and crossed his arms in front of his chest before saying, "I met him in lockup."
    I knew about Ralph’s arrest. Priscilla kept up with him and told me. She didn’t tell me much else, and only when I asked, which was rarely. Ralph got nailed with two roommates because suddenly their electric bill went through the roof. Cars came and went at all hours of the day and night at the house they’d rented somewhere in Westchester County in New York. A neighbor had complained.
    Cops found the basement full of marijuana plants, some almost five feet tall because of the fluorescent grow lights. The cops brought all three of them in, and because Ralph was the only one who didn’t have a record, they kept his charge to a misdemeanor and he had to serve only six months of community service. His roommates weren’t so lucky.
    If he’d been into anything else since then—it was about ten years ago—I didn’t know about it.
    "What were you arrested for?" I asked Jack Hammer.
    "Prostitution."
    He said it matter-of-factly, like he was telling me he’d bought a carton of milk at the store. I nodded. "And you and Ralph bonded?" Maybe Ralph and Jack had some sort of thing going, some sort of Brokeback Jail-house. But Jack was one step ahead of me.
    "Not like that."
    "So do you know why someone would gun him down?" How much did this guy really know about "Ralphie"?
    Jack Hammer shrugged. "Everyone loved Ralphie."
    Obviously not. But who was I to mention that?
    "You wouldn’t by chance have a phone on you, would you?" I asked before seeing the stupidity of my question. He was wearing a skintight T-shirt and leather pants that looked like they’d been painted on. Where would he keep it?
    "Sorry, babe," he said. "Back in the dressing room."
    Again with the "babe"? Dressing room?
    Just as I was about to ask him if he could go get it—I really needed to make a call—Tom was standing over me. Where the hell had he come from? One look told me he didn’t have my flip-flops.
    "Hey, I thought you were getting—"
    "Get up, Annie," he