Plugged - Eoin Colfer [4]
Connie smiles a watery smile, but at least it’s something. Better than the despair in her eyes when I came in here.
‘Galloping gobshite. I like that. I gotta visit Ireland; I say it every year. Little Alfredo would love it, and Eva too. Green fields and friendly people.’
‘Not so much of either any more,’ I confide. ‘Not since the country got moneyed.’
‘You could bring us, Dan. Show us around. Give us the authentic tour.’
My stomach flips. ‘Any time, Connie. You know how I feel.’ Connie reaches up and tugs at the band of the black watch cap I wear every waking hour.
‘So how’s it looking, baby?’
I am sensitive on this subject generally, but Connie and me go back nearly two years, which is a lifetime in this business. We got history, as they say. One weekend a few months back, she got a sitter and we had ourselves a fling. It could have gone further but she didn’t want a new dad for her kids. I just want to feel young for a couple nights, Dan. Okay?
Twenty-eight and she wants to feel young again.
Every guy’s dream, right? Couple of no-strings nights with a cocktail hostess. I didn’t push it; now I’m thinking I should have.
‘It’s looking fine,’ I tell her. ‘I got my check-up with Zeb tomorrow.’
‘Can I see?’ she asks, long nails already peeling off the watch cap.
My hands jerk up to stop her, but I force them back down. About time I got an opinion.
She folds the cap into her long fingers, then pushes me back under a recessed spotlight.
‘Zeb did this?’
‘Yeah. He had a few nurses too, preparing the follicles. Students I think.’
‘This is not a bad job,’ says Connie, squinting. ‘I’ve seen plenty of hair plugs before, but this is good. Nice spread and no scars. What is it, rat hair?’
I am genuinely horrified. ‘Rat? Christ, Connie. It’s my own hair. Transplants from the back. They’ll fall out in a couple of weeks, then the new hair grows in.’
Connie shrugs. ‘I hear they’re using rat now. Dog too. Tough as wire, apparently.’
I reclaim the cap, spreading it over my crown like a salve. ‘No canine or rodent. Irish human only.’
‘Yeah, well it looks okay. Another session and you won’t know the difference.’
I sigh like it’s cost me a lot of dollars, which it has. ‘That’s the idea.’
I roll the hat back down and take Connie’s elbow, steering her back to the floor.
A Formica bar, low lighting that’s more cheap than fashionable. A roulette wheel that bucks with every spin, two worn baize card tables and half a dozen slots. Slotz.
‘Here,’ she says. ‘Take fifty. You squeezed it out of him.’
I fold the note back into her hand. ‘It was a pleasure, darlin’. The day he licks my arse is the day I take fifty.’
Connie laughs full and throaty and something stirs in my stomach. ‘Oh, baby. The day he licks your arse is the day I buy tickets to witness the consequences.’
She’s back on an even keel, but it’s temporary; this place really takes it out of decent people. A toll on the soul.
‘You okay to go back on the floor?’
‘Sure, darlin’. You know Victor will dock me for the whole night if I quit now.’
I lean down to whisper in her ear, smelling her perfume, noticing not for the first time how long her neck is. Feeling her peppermint breath brushing my cheek. Remembering.
‘Between the two of us, Victor is also a galloping gobshite.’
Connie laughs again, something I would pay money to hear, then she grabs a tray from the bar and she’s back on the floor, hips swaying like a movie star from back when movie stars had hips worth swaying.
She throws a couple of tantalising sentences over her shoulder.
‘Maybe we got another weekend coming up, baby. Maybe a whole week.’
Connie darlin’, I think, then raise my gaze.
Stick to the code. Eyes up.
Eyes up, for now. But me and Connie have unfinished business.
One more look at the hips, my dark side whispers. Then back to work.
As is often the case, my dark side wins.
I give myself a moment to get my head back in the game. That’s the most common rookie mistake in the security business: complacency. Thinking I’m big and scary and what fool is gonna take