Read Thrill Kill for Free Online
Authors: Brian Thiem
Francisco and other parts of the Bay Area who were lucky enough to get a parking spot at this station. But on Sundays, trains only ran every thirty minutes, and the lot was nearly empty. Sinclair pulled a Macanudo Robusto cigar from his breast pocket and held it up. “Do you mind?” he asked Tanya.
“Baby, a man buys me dinner, he can smoke crack while I eat if he wants.”
Sinclair lowered the front windows, turned the heat up a notch, and lit the cigar with the old Zippo lighter he’d bought at the Army PX in Baghdad five years ago. “When did you last see Blondie?”
“Maybe last summer. On this side of the street between Thirty-Third and Thirty-Fourth.”
“Is she out there much?” Sinclair asked.
“These days just to visit. I remember when she was fresh off the farm in Iowa. She comes out here, watches the pros, and in a week, she’s got the walk and the talk down. Then she’s gone for a year, then back a few months. After a while, we girls figure out she’s mostly doing regulars and calls.”
“When was this?”
“I don’t know—a while ago. I just remembers she was working the stro more nights than not. Sometimes for just an hour, then her phone rings and she says she gotta go—she got an appointment, gots to go home and freshen up for some real money.”
Sinclair puffed on his cigar and blew the smoke out the window. “You think she got those calls from regulars?”
“Oh, yeah, she had regulars. Sometimes tricks pull up and I think they want some of Tanya’s sweet chocolate bubble butt, but they ask for Blondie.”
“It’s been a while since I worked the girls and dope, but do johns call you all for dates these days?”
“You know, Sinclair, some girls just like the street. I pick my hours and pick my johns. Don’t nobody call me to suck his dickwhen I’m off duty. But most girls dream of being escorts or call girls. They give out their numbers to tricks all the time, hoping to score enough regulars so they don’t need to work the corner.”
“You think that’s what happened with Blondie?”
“I think she so movie-star pretty that some john paid to keep her, like Richard Gere did with Julia Roberts. But that movie’s a fairy tale. Rich men might pay to keep a ho for a while. But pretty soon, she stop being a ho for the man and think she a lady. If a rich man wants a lady, he don’t come to the stro looking for one or dial one up from an escort service.”
“How long’s it been since she worked the corner?”
“Four, five years, maybe more.” Tanya stuffed the last bite of cheeseburger in her mouth, wadded up the wrapper, and threw it on the floor. “Blondie was always chirpy happy. Never a bad day. A sweetie pie. Always get along with everybody. I think that even when she had lots of regulars and was making plenty of money, she came out here for fun. You know—the thrill of a new dick. Just like with you, Sinclair. I bet when they make you chief of police, you still get in your po-lize car and come out here.”
“You don’t have to worry about me making police chief,” Sinclair said with a grin. “Who else might know what she’s been up to recently?”
“Talk with your friend Jimmy.”
“Jimmy?”
“Yeah, you know. Sheila’s old man.”
“I thought Jimmy was still in Santa Rita.”
“He been out at least a month.”
“Where’s he hanging?”
“Down here or maybe at the Palms.”
“What will Jimmy tell me when I talk to him?”
“He might tell you that he knows Blondie ever since she got off the bus. He watched over her back then. When Blondie stopped working the corner and she still come out here, most the time it was to check on him. Couple years back, Jimmy wastweaking bad, shooting a hundred dollars a day. Blondie makes some calls and gets him into a thirty-day program in Napa. People say she paid for it.”
“So Jimmy was her pimp back in the day?”
“Maybe at first, but she probably went independent quick.”
“Did she have any
“Baby, a man buys me dinner, he can smoke crack while I eat if he wants.”
Sinclair lowered the front windows, turned the heat up a notch, and lit the cigar with the old Zippo lighter he’d bought at the Army PX in Baghdad five years ago. “When did you last see Blondie?”
“Maybe last summer. On this side of the street between Thirty-Third and Thirty-Fourth.”
“Is she out there much?” Sinclair asked.
“These days just to visit. I remember when she was fresh off the farm in Iowa. She comes out here, watches the pros, and in a week, she’s got the walk and the talk down. Then she’s gone for a year, then back a few months. After a while, we girls figure out she’s mostly doing regulars and calls.”
“When was this?”
“I don’t know—a while ago. I just remembers she was working the stro more nights than not. Sometimes for just an hour, then her phone rings and she says she gotta go—she got an appointment, gots to go home and freshen up for some real money.”
Sinclair puffed on his cigar and blew the smoke out the window. “You think she got those calls from regulars?”
“Oh, yeah, she had regulars. Sometimes tricks pull up and I think they want some of Tanya’s sweet chocolate bubble butt, but they ask for Blondie.”
“It’s been a while since I worked the girls and dope, but do johns call you all for dates these days?”
“You know, Sinclair, some girls just like the street. I pick my hours and pick my johns. Don’t nobody call me to suck his dickwhen I’m off duty. But most girls dream of being escorts or call girls. They give out their numbers to tricks all the time, hoping to score enough regulars so they don’t need to work the corner.”
“You think that’s what happened with Blondie?”
“I think she so movie-star pretty that some john paid to keep her, like Richard Gere did with Julia Roberts. But that movie’s a fairy tale. Rich men might pay to keep a ho for a while. But pretty soon, she stop being a ho for the man and think she a lady. If a rich man wants a lady, he don’t come to the stro looking for one or dial one up from an escort service.”
“How long’s it been since she worked the corner?”
“Four, five years, maybe more.” Tanya stuffed the last bite of cheeseburger in her mouth, wadded up the wrapper, and threw it on the floor. “Blondie was always chirpy happy. Never a bad day. A sweetie pie. Always get along with everybody. I think that even when she had lots of regulars and was making plenty of money, she came out here for fun. You know—the thrill of a new dick. Just like with you, Sinclair. I bet when they make you chief of police, you still get in your po-lize car and come out here.”
“You don’t have to worry about me making police chief,” Sinclair said with a grin. “Who else might know what she’s been up to recently?”
“Talk with your friend Jimmy.”
“Jimmy?”
“Yeah, you know. Sheila’s old man.”
“I thought Jimmy was still in Santa Rita.”
“He been out at least a month.”
“Where’s he hanging?”
“Down here or maybe at the Palms.”
“What will Jimmy tell me when I talk to him?”
“He might tell you that he knows Blondie ever since she got off the bus. He watched over her back then. When Blondie stopped working the corner and she still come out here, most the time it was to check on him. Couple years back, Jimmy wastweaking bad, shooting a hundred dollars a day. Blondie makes some calls and gets him into a thirty-day program in Napa. People say she paid for it.”
“So Jimmy was her pimp back in the day?”
“Maybe at first, but she probably went independent quick.”
“Did she have any