Straits of Fortune - Anthony Gagliano [16]
“I’m looking for someone to train my father,” she said. “You’d have to come to the house. It’s quite nice there, really. Would that be a problem?”
I was glad she was talking to me mainly, because it gave me an excuse to look at her without being impolite. She had the glossy black hair of a Chinese, but she looked mixed, maybe Eurasian. Everything about her seemed to come from someplace else.
“Mind if I ask you a question?” I said.
“Not at all.”
“That’s almost a British accent you have, but not completely.”
“I went to school in England when I was little. I guess I haven’t lost it yet—the accent I mean. Well, what do you think?”
“About what?”
“Training my father. What did you think I meant?”
Cal had come back into the office, and I was conscious of him sitting back in his swivel chair watching us.
I laughed. “I thought you were asking me about your accent. I mean, what I thought about it.”
“Well?”
“Keep it. It’s nice.”
She smiled. “Thank you.”
“Let’s stick to business, okay, kids?” Cal said mercifully. “I’m trying to make a living here.”
“Where does he live?” I asked. “Your father, I mean. We have to tack on a bit for the travel time.”
“Not a problem. He’s out on Sunset Beach.” She studied me to see what effect the address was going to have on me. I wasn’t surprised. She had the look of money without being obvious about it. Everything top-shelf but inconspicuous—Cartier watch, small diamonds. Was it old money? I didn’t think so. It didn’t have that musty, old-book smell to it.
“Sunset Beach? Sure, I’ve been there,” I said. “Except they always make me leave when it gets dark.”
She looked at me for a long moment, as though I’d said something strange or more revealing than I had intended. Then she laughed.
“I think my father will like you.”
“Really, why so?”
“You’re in disguise. You have secrets. He likes that. People look at you, but they don’t see you. But my father will see you. And I see you.”
“I see you, too.”
She looked around. “I guess smoking in here is out of the question.”
“I don’t think Cal would like that. He smokes his cigars outside.”
She studied me for a moment. “I’ve seen you before,” she said. “Do you go to the clubs?”
“I did when I worked at one.”
“Which one?” she asked. “I’ve been to all of them.”
I told her.
“Let me guess: You were a bouncer. Don’t take it personally, but you’re the type they’d stand by the door.”
“Really?” I said. “I thought of it more as public relations. The darker side, of course.”
“You see?” Vivian said triumphantly. “I told you, another disguise,” she said. “Tell me, who are you really, Jack Vaughn?”
I decided to give her a serious answer. “I don’t know,” I said truthfully. “I really have no idea.”
“Jesus Christ,” Cal said. “All this talking is killing me.” He sprang out of his chair and stalked out of the office. I was glad to see him go.
Something in my tone must have convinced her that I was telling the truth. We stared at one another for a moment. I sensed a certain hunger in both of us to keep up the conversation. She was the kind of person you could really talk to.
“I know what you mean,” she said, looking around the room. “Sometimes I think that perhaps I’ve traveled too much. After a while everything seems foreign.” She looked at me earnestly as though to see what I would make of her statement.
“I think I know what you mean,” I said.
“Yes, I think you do.”
Then Cal had come back. I know the three of us talked, but I don’t know if I made any sense that day. She wanted someone she could trust to come out to the house and train her dad, a Colonel Patterson. It didn’t matter, though. I would have buried dead mules in her backyard with a tablespoon if she had asked me to. We had known each other for a thousand years. It was just a question of getting reacquainted. No need to rush.
When she had gone, Cal frowned at me for long moment. He twirled a pencil