Page 51 of Rastor

Yeah, I realized that my own house was three times the size, but my own situation wasn't exactly normal.

"What kind of people?" I said. "You mean like renters?"

He laughed like I'd just said something funny. "Sure, if you wanna call 'em that. As for me, I call 'em clients."

Clients? What the hell didthatmean?

Before I could ask, he motioned me closer and said in a low voice, "You give any more thought to my business proposition?"

I had a pretty good idea what he meant, but I wanted to make him say it. I shook my head. "What business proposition?"

He gave an oily laugh. "You know…the girls."

I recalled his words from the last time."If you call in the professionals, you get what you want – blond, brunette, bald, you name it. You pay for the stuff you want, and kick 'em to the curb when you're done. Easy-peasy."

Easy-peasy, my ass.

From the driver's seat, he grinned over at me. "I've got this one girl, she'll suck your dick like a fuckin' vacuum cleaner." He laughed. "I'm talking industrial strength. I call her Hoover. Swear to God, you'll be thinking, 'Man, is she gonna suck this thing clean off, or what?'"

At the sound of his laugh, I swear, I felt my own dick shrivel up inside my jeans. The guy had a messed-up vibe, and I hated the fact that he was here, where Chloe lived. Did she really know this guy? She must. Thiswaswhere she lived, after all.

I stared down at him, wondering what the hell I should say to that. The plan had been to keep it civil. But the more he talked, the more I wanted to drag him out of his car and beat the answers out of him.

Right, becausethatwould show Chloe that I wasn't a psycho.

I tried for a casual shrug and listened as he told me about this other girl who went by the nickname of Spanky.

I heard myself ask, "Giving or receiving?"

"That's up to you," he said. "So, you interested?"

I was a lot of things, but not interested. There was only one girl I wanted, and her name wasn't Spanky. Or Hoover, for that matter.

It was Chloe, the girl I loved. But standing there, my thoughts started churning with details that I didn't want to consider. Chloe wasn't just the girl I loved. She was a hot girl in a fancy neighborhood. She lived in a house that was off-limits for reasons that I still didn't get.

And now, looking at the guy in her driveway, a sick feeling grew in my gut. I tried to shove it aside. But I couldn’t. Finally, I asked myself the question that I'd been avoiding for too long.

Is Chloe involved with this guy?

No. She wasn't. She couldn’t be. Whether for business or pleasure, she wasn't like that.

The guy was an ass-wipe, plain and simple. Probably, he had a string of properties a mile long, all mortgaged to the hilt. I knew the type. I'd seen it before – guys getting in over their heads and trying all kinds of crazy schemes to claw their way out.

Fuck it. I was done listening to his bullshit. The way it looked, he wasn't going to tell me a damn thing that was useful – unless I went on the offense. And I couldn’t. Thanks to my own stupidity, I was still on Chloe's shit-list, bigtime.

As of now, I wasn't even her boyfriend. I was a guy who'd already messed up once. If I were smart, I'd end this conversation now, before I dug myself a deeper hole. "I don't need any girls," I told him.

"Well, sure you don'tneedany girls," he said, giving me a look this side of creepy. "I mean, look at ya."

Yeah. Look at me. Standing on the side of the road talking to a scumbag.

"I'm just saying," he continued, "sometimes we want something special." He grinned. "Like extra-trashy. The dirty stuff, you know?"

Been there, done that. Those days were over, and if I stayed one more minute, I'd be going for the guy's throat. "I've gotta go," I said, turning away.

I'd gotten maybe two or three steps when he called out after me, "Hey! What about nice girls?"

Slowly, I turned to face him. "What?"