XXX Shamus (12 page)

He left the emergency room when the attendant wheeled Ivana back through the double doors. No reason to stay now. He called a cab and instructed the driver to pick up the counselor, take her back to school or home, and bill the fare to his credit card plus a twenty dollar tip.

Jesus, the best news of the day was that Yasmin was alive and well, but in Vegas doing porn thanks to her supposed advocate at school. Hopper thought the picture he was getting of an oversexed, overexperienced girl wasn’t exactly the whole truth. It was in Ivana and Figg’s best interests to say so. Plus he’d heard the same from two guys—one who fucked her, one who fingered her—and a couple of teenaged friends. Kristen confirmed that Yasmin was the one asking to use her older sister’s apartment for porn. All this, and yet Hopper was thinking she was more innocent for some reason.

Like he was some guardian of truth and righteousness. Like he was a moral compass, some archangel doing God’s good work on Earth as penance for his own sins.

That, along with fucking your own sister.

It knocked the mental wind out of him. Why was it that as much as he hated that relationship, he couldn’t escape? Before this, before the missed-period psych out, he had compartmentalized it, even accepted it some. New day, new light, new leaf. Hopper wanted his freedom from Sister, from anonymous sex, from lust. He wanted Divinity. If he couldn’t have her…

Well?
Think it, go on.

If he couldn’t have her, he’d end it all. Hold it over her head. Love was a thing to be forced, manipulated, massaged, the definition shifting constantly to fit the one who needed love most. Sex wasn’t doing it for him. It was just a thing that was done.

Like Divinity had said, Hopper’s entire life was a porno flick, but he wished it to be a romantic comedy.

Divinity made reservations at The Venetian—Hopper had given her
carte blanche
on the hotel choice—and danced all the way down Royale to the cookie-cutter zydeco flowing from the souvenir shops.

“I want to play poker like they do on TV,” she said. Her shoes looked like ballet slippers. As usual in summer, she wore a short thin sundress that screamed sexy just in case a passerby wasn’t paying close enough attention. “I’ll wear sunglasses and flirt, mess up their concentration. I’ll
flash
them, too.”

“That can get you thrown out.”

“Then I’ll flash the security guards. Doesn’t matter if I win, though. I’ll fuck a millionaire until he gives me a big pile of chips.”

“And what will I be doing?”

She patted his back. “I’m kidding. I’m not all into money or fame, man. You and me are going to be lucky charms.”

They had finished lunch at a little dive they liked down near Frenchman. The tickets were set for later that afternoon, giving them plenty of time. He’d already been home. The next stop was Divinity’s dorm room.

In the car, Divinity tuned the radio to a college rock station playing something that sounded a little like Hüsker Dü, but Hopper was pretty sure it wasn’t. Divinity nodded along and swiveled her head like she was in a Go-Go’s video. Finally she spun the volume off.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she said.

“Huh?”

“We’re going to Vegas and you’re all glum. I can understand it because you got beat up, on the one hand, but I’m not having a cheery effect?”

“Sure, yeah, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Just, like,
smile
, you know? Like this. Big and wide.” She hooked her fingers inside her lips and pulled them into a whack-job smile, lisping all over the place. “Thee? Ook a’ me! I’m shmileen.”

“It’s the case, that’s all. I’ve been on it two days, and look at me. It’s a missing girl but you’d think I’m in bad with the mob.”

Divinity unhooked her fingers, went “Ew” and wiped them on Hopper’s car seat. “All I’m asking is that you try to relax, have fun watching me have fun if nothing else. And
please
show some enthusiasm when—” she pulled her legs up under her and scooted closer to Hopper, whispered harshly in his ear, “—when we’re in the shower at the hotel and I’m licking the soap off your balls.”

Not an unpleasant thought. Hopper hardened some, said, “I can’t wait.”

“Oh, you want a sneak peek?”

“I mean, I can wait, but—”

Her hand was already unzipping him, holding him, stroking his shaft.

“Like that?” she said.

“You know it’s more than liking it.”

“You
love
that? You love me? My pussy?”

He could barely steer straight. “Please, let’s wait.”

“You didn’t think I was going to let you come while you’re driving, right?” Her hand slipped away. “Although I’ll bet you were close.”

He glanced down at his jeans, now spotted wet with his natural lube. Divinity was right. Even though he had plenty of endurance and the patience of a monk while fucking, what Divinity had done in ten seconds nearly had him jizzing all over the car.

Hell, if she’d ever tell him she loved him, it wouldn’t even take the touch of her skin.

While Divinity shoved sundresses into her backpack, Hopper sat on the roommate’s bed and spun through how he was going to approach the Weedgardners once they arrived. If Ivana didn’t blow the whistle on him, and there wasn’t a good reason to think she would, then maybe he’d try acting as an interested distributor. Maybe ask Divinity to dig some research on what that entailed. D babbled on as if this were all a vacation.

“I want to see that Cirque de Soleil show, and, oh, there’s a roller coaster on
top
of a hotel, isn’t that cool?”

The door to the room opened slowly, a smooth pale face peeking in, plastic framed glasses and wavy chocolate-brown hair. Pretty tall. Divinity looked up quickly, expression frozen blank. The girl stepped inside. She wore loafers, plain khakis, and a blue denim shirt tucked into her pants. Very prim, the class lonelyheart with the big brain. But her eyes were wide and her lips thin and moist. Hopper thought his heart literally skipped a beat—always a fan of the “nerd girl.”

“What?” Divinity said.

“Class let out early.” The voice was timid, a little bit of Victoria Jackson from Saturday Night Live. “I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, that’s my fault.” Divinity went back to packing. “If you could give us a few minutes. Hey, I’m gonna be gone a few days.”

“Let me drop off my stuff, then.” She crossed the room to where Hopper sat, and he remembered he was on her bed. She set her books and legal pads down beside the hulk on her sheets, tried to grin but it came across like a tic.

She stuck out her hand. “You must be Hopper. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Hopper took her fingers, shook gently, an eye on Divinity, who seemed to have stopped packing and was picking over things on the closet floor. She was listening hard.

“Emily,” the nerd girl said.

“Nice to meet you finally. I’m Divinity’s boss.”

“Yeah, she said.” Emily’s cheeks flushed a little. So his secretary was kissing and telling, as he guessed she had. “Sounds fun, doing private eye work.”

He let go of her fingers. “It’s a job, kind of boring sometimes.”

“It looks like it gets a little rough.” Emily reached for his face, then pulled back, touched her own. Her voice was a little thick. “Bad day?”

Her noticing his bruises made them sting. He was a little woozy from her. He spun through a mental back-and-forth:

This is a test. Resist her. Spill your heart to Divinity, stop being so afraid.

It’s your nature to take them all. This one is into you. She wants to know if what Divinity is telling her is true. Show her. Add Emily to the list.

Do you have any willpower at all? I mean, just
try
monogamy for a weekend at least, for god’s sake.

Fuck the world.

Love Divinity.

D stood up and swirled, probably freaked by the quiet. She probably expected to turn and find Emily sucking Hopper’s tongue. “Ready when you are, boss.”

Teasing.
Boss
.

Emily crossed her arms and hugged tight like she was cold. Couldn’t help herself, eyes blinking fast like snapshots, recording every inch of Hopper’s body for her memories.

He stood, towered over both girls. “Guess we’d better catch that plane.”

“Hope you get the bad guys,” Emily said, reaching out her hand again. Hopper held her fingers longer this time because she obviously didn’t want to let go. “Have a safe trip.”

“I’ll bring her back safe and sound.”

Divinity looped her arm around Hopper’s and pulled him towards the door. “Time is money.”

Dragged him out of the room. Hopper had a strong suspicion that Emily would rub one out as soon as the door shut behind them. In fact, two steps away, he heard the deadbolt click into place. Felt good making a girl cream her pants like that.

In the elevator, Divinity leaned on the opposite side, as far away as she could get.

“What?” he said.

She sighed. “Nothing.” Ten seconds. “Don’t do that in front of me.”

“What?”

“Don’t be…you. Whatever it is that makes women fall for you. Don’t do that in front of me anymore, please.”

“I swear I’m not doing anything.”
And I’d find a way to stop if you’d be mine forever.

“Better not tell lies. You do it to me.”

He crossed the elevator to her. “Whatever I do to you is something I don’t do to anyone else.”

She sulked some more before looking into his eyes. “Better not.”

“Promise.”

The doors opened and she was out of the elevator fast. Friends and admirers said hello, and she stopped three times before they made it to the front door. One of the guys she spoke with had obviously been inside her before. Maybe recently. Another case of casual college sex satisfying the moment.

On the plus side, it was the first time Hopper had seen D’s jealousy in full.

As his secretary hugged the boy, him sneaking a glance to see if it pissed her boss off, Hopper whispered to himself, “I’m not getting the good end of this deal, am I?”

Divinity tossed her backpack into the backseat of Hopper’s Plymouth and dropped into the passenger seat. Hopper stood behind his open door thinking he’d caught a look at something not quite right. Not another of Divinity’s male admirers, although there were plenty. This was more sinister. Like they were being watched by someone with hostile intent. Hopper felt pretty safe, ready to rev the car and get out of town, but he was also a little scared of the feeling for another reason.

Guilt, maybe?

Guilt. Fear. Not being as clean as he would like to be on this case.

Then his cell phone rang. It sounded far away. That’s because he’d given it to D, let her carry it around to answer calls like a real administrative assistant might.

“He’s right here, hold on.” Then to him, “You getting in? Head’s up.”

The cell bounced off his thigh and landed on the floorboard. He knelt to pick it up, eyes still checking the parking lot, the horizon, the nearby buildings.

“Yeah?”

“Where’s Figg?” A man’s voice, young, familiar. Hopper couldn’t place it at first.

“Excuse me?”

“Ivana doesn’t know and then she hung up on me. You did something.”

The voice fell into place. Ernie Depp.

Hopper said, “I’m sorry. You’d better leave the whole thing alone.”

“Son of a bitch, you’ve cracked my kneecap and now I can’t find my best friend. All you had to do was play along, but look at this shit. Where’s Figg?”

“Finding Yasmin isn’t the game you or Figg or Ivana think it is. I’m not doing theater here. It’s real. Walk away.”

Having the voice on the phone helped Hopper hone in, across the street in a parking lot near the library. The lawyer’s Chrysler, the lawyer in the driver’s seat and Ernie in the back, hands-free headset letting him talk while he held up binoculars.

“Found me. Good job, Sam Spade.”

Hopper scratched his eyebrow. The kids these days, never taking responsibility but always looking for someone to blame.

“I have no idea where Figg is,” Hopper said. He meant it. Maybe physically the guy was in Villeponteaux’s bedroom by now, the nub doctored in the most painful way possible, hands cuffed to the bedpost while the old cop readied his castration tools and fixed up a colostomy bag. But as to the state of his mind, the location of his sensibilities, it felt more honest to tell Ernie, “No clue.”

“You’re lying. Once I find out—”

“I’ve got to go, Ernie. I’m sorry. Really.”

He closed the phone, turned it off, and climbed into the car. He’d have to drive right past Ernie on the way out, hoped the kid wouldn’t force a scene. Hopper reached under the seat. He knew the revolver wouldn’t be there—it had been stolen half a year ago and Hopper never replaced it. He needed to reach for it anyway.