The Royal Family Read Online Free Page A

sipping at his Black Velvet, halfheartedly checking boxes on his surveillance report for Brady while he gazed across the street at one of those prismatic Victorian windows aflame with something which tigerishly shone beneath curtains. When he finished the whiskey, the answering machine was still blinking.
    A long, friendly message: Somebody wanted him to spy on her husband to see if he were being unfaithful.
    Tyler called back. —You know, lady, he said, divorce in California is no-fault. You don’t have to prove adultery to file.
    Oh, I understand that, the woman said. I just want to know. I really need to know.
    Knowledge is pretty expensive, said Tyler dreamily, checking boxes on his surveillance report. And I’m booked up shadowing royalty right now. Tenderloin royalty.
    How about a hundred dollars? the woman said.
    A hundred wouldn’t even prime my pump, said Tyler. If you want to prime my pump you have to give me five. And it could run into thousands. What if he only does her once a month? What if he takes her out of town? If he goes out of town then I’ve got to go out of town, too, and that’s going to cost you.
    You’re kind of discouraging, the woman said. Almost insulting, too, I should say.
    I aim to be, said Tyler. I want you to think long and hard before you decide to go through with this. Most people who come to me don’t like what I show them.
    Five hundred is an awful lot of money, the woman said. And you’re not very nice.
    I agree. So why don’t you think about it and go to your teller machine to check your bank balance and look your husband in the eye and decide if you want to hate him even more than it sounds like you already do? You’re welcome to hate me instead. That’s my advice, and it’s free advice.
    Thank you, the woman said palely.
    All right, said Tyler.
    He had another Black Velvet and called his brother’s place, but there was no answer. He started to call Brady at the hotel, but thought better of it and hung up.
     

| 9 |
    He tried to locate Sapphire on three databases, but of the sixteen women he found, two supposedly dwelled in Ketchikan, Alaska, and none of the others showed up in California. Maybe the crazy whore was just crazy. More likely, Sapphire was an unregistered nickname.
     

| 10 |
    I seen you! giggled the next girl. She had reddish-pale hair, and the bulb-light exposed her pimpled cheeks. —You was with that blonde Strawberry. No. That’s not Strawberry. That’s Domino.
    And what’s your name? said fresh-from-Vegas Brady, who always wanted to take charge.
    Why? said the smoothwaxed lips. You datin’? You datin’?
    Of course I’m dating, said Brady, oozing what Tyler considered to be unprofessional glee. My name’s Mr. Breakfast, and this is my friend Mr. Lunch. He says he’s not sexually or emotionally compromised. Do you believe him?
    I never heard names like that before, said the lips. Set just above that pale chin, they almost reached the gigantic sunglasses.
    Well, what’s your name then?
    Kitty.
    Kitty as in pussy?
    Hey, Mr. Breakfast, you got me wrong. I’m not a prostitute. I’ve just fallen on some hard times, that’s all.
    How much?
    How much you got to spend?
    Twenty.
    Uh huh. You wanna feed my kitty? And does Mr. Lunch wanna do somethin’? You can come in my mouth or anything you want.
    Speaking of mouths, Tyler broke in, guess what your friend Domino told us.
    Friend? That bitch ain’t my friend. Any friend she had she stabbed in the back long ago!
    She told us she was the Queen of the Whores.
    She did? Shit! And you believed her? That bitch must’ve been strung out. Too much junk!
    She told us all the other girls worked for her, said Tyler, sounding as stupid as he could. She said she’s the Queen.
    She’s not. There’s no such thing.
    But she said—
    I don’t care what she said. She’s full of shit. She don’t have shit. It’s a man’s world.
    You know, said Brady in wonder, she was really strange. She started getting