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tenth grade. It barely lasted a week.” Another hint of a smile, encouraging me to press on. “So, you were a print model?”
    “Most of the time. I did some high fashion work when I was younger, but I was always too dumpy for the catwalk.”
    I started to laugh, and then realized she wasn’t joking. “But you’re tall and slim!”
    “I’m five-eight and a size ten. That might be tall and slim if you’re a housewife in Granite Bay, but for a model in LA, it’s dumpy.”
    “Well, I always knew people in LA were crazy.”
    She smiled, her lips parting this time. “Crazy is in the eye of the beholder. I think most of the people round here are crazy.”
    “Sounds like you miss LA.”
    “Sometimes,” she said wistfully, her gaze drifting out the window. A gray parade of businessmen and bureaucrats were filing along the sidewalk, tightened for room on the café’s shaded side of the street.
    She turned back to me suddenly. “What do you think is going to happen here?”
    I held her gaze, sensing my opportunity. “I want to see you again.”
    “Are you serious? I told you I’m married.”
    “I know, and to a very rich man by the sounds of it. But do you love him?”
    Lucy stiffened in her seat. “You’ve no right to ask me that.”
    “Maybe not, but I’ve asked anyway. Tell me you love him and I’ll walk away, I swear. I don’t want to break-up a happy marriage.”
    “Jesus! Talk about getting ahead of yourself.”
    “Sorry, you’re right. I’m coming on too strong. I just…I just want to see you again. I can’t stop thinking about you.”
    “This is crazy. You don’t even know me.”
    “You’re right, it is crazy. But there’s a spark between us, I can feel right now as I’m talking to you. It’s like we’re the only two people in the room.” I cringed, hearing my words in playback. “Shit, I’m sorry. I don’t usually sound this corny.”
    Lucy stared at me. The creases softened in the corners of her eyes, and my legs started jiggling under the table, anticipating a hint of interest, a whisper of encouragement.
    Then all of a sudden she stood up, clutching her purse. She raised her free hand, pinning me to my chair.
    “Don’t make this weirder than it already is. I’m a flirtatious person by nature, but that’s where it ends. I’m not about to cheat on my husband.”
    “But you came here,” I protested, my heart sagging. “You must feel something.”
    “Pity,” she said simply.
    I looked down at the froth evaporating in my mug, unable to speak.
    “I’m sorry, Johnny,” she said, her heels clattering over the tiled floor before she vanished into the white glare of the afternoon. 

5. “Is it to do with your scars?”
     
    CC rang my apartment buzzer at 6am, a few minutes after I’d walked in the door. I was in no mood for her professional services, but I let her up anyway, grateful for the company.
    I’d developed a pretty thick skin over the years, but the gruesome plot twist in Sensible Shoes had seriously rattled my nerves. My tormentor was aware of my darkest secrets, things I’d managed to keep buried for years. And he could be fearless – knowing I’d never call the police. It wouldn’t be long before his menacing games turned violent.
    CC was looking worse for wear when I opened the door. Her stage make-up had rubbed off, and tangled strands of blonde hair hung over her face.
    “You look how I feel,” I said, shielding my eyes from the hallway light.
    “Yeah yeah, don’t worry. This isn’t a business call. I just came to crash.”
    She pushed past me and headed for the kitchen, dropping her trench coat to reveal a red tank top and short pencil skirt underneath. She was dressed no differently than the girls who queued outside the clubs downtown, the G-rated clubs, but there was something inherently sexual about the way CC wore a skirt. Like she wouldn’t be in it for long.  
    “I’ve got the worst goddamn headache,” she said, opening the fridge door