Page 43 of Speak of the Devil (New Hope 3)

“You're asking if he was a client?”

“Is that what they're called?”

“Pretty much.”

I don’t know what to say.

“I would never divulge that kind of information. Just so you know. Discretion is at the heart of everything I do.”

She says it in a way that makes it sound dirty. Illicit.

“But, no, he wasn't a client. He’s a friend from church.”

“Church. Of course. I should have guessed.” She could've said anything, and I would've expected it more than that. “And your husband?”

“You’re asking if he knows?”

I shrug because I don’t know what I was asking. I only know that he’s a fool. “Sure.”

“What makes you think I could hide something that big?”

“I think women can hide a lot of things.”

“Interesting,” she says, looking away toward the bar.

“So how do you determine the price? Is there like a fee schedule?”

“A fee schedule. That’s cute.”

“Is it?

“What makes you so interested in price?”

“I just want to know what you think you’re worth.”

She doesn’t answer but I can see I’ve struck a nerve.

I try another angle. “

Do you charge by the hour? By the service?”

“By the hour.”

“How much for the whole night?

“Well,” she says, tapping her phone, bringing it to life. “It’s 8:00 p.m. right now…which leaves four hours to midnight. At $300 an hour, that's $1,200.”

“Wow. Not even a break for the whole night?”

“A break?” she laughs. “You’re suggesting I take less of a cut?”

“Suggesting feels like a strong word.”

“Fine. Are you asking for a discount?”

I shrug again. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

“Why would I do that when I can just book extra clients? This isn’t science,” she says. “This is business. ”