Strip Tease

Garcia wondered why people with JESUS stickers on their bumper always drove twenty miles per hour under the speed limit. If God was my co-pilot, he thought, I'd be doing a hundred and twenty.

But Erin let it slide. The child was only four years old; she had a whole lifetime to learn about sadness. Today was for Dalmatians, ice cream and new dolls.

First, I put his ass in jail,” García said, “then I married his wife.

She said there was no tactful way for a naked person to cope with a runny nose, especially while dancing. Orly grudgingly agreed.

When Erin arrived, she saw an old man stretched out on the floor. He was surrounded by young medical technicians in blue jumpsuits. One of them knelt beside the lifeless form, thumping the man's chest in perfect time to Janet Jackson's 'Rhythm Nation,' which was playing on the club speakers.

The first time the boy asked when his real dad was getting out of jail, Garcia took the small hand and said: 'Never, Andy.' When the boy asked why, Garcia said: 'Because your daddy shot a man between the eyes.' Andy appreciated the seriousness of the situation. His sister, Lynne, who was either a year older or a year younger, said maybe her dad had a good reason for shooting the other guy. A hundred thousand reasons, Garcia had said, but none good enough. Just then Donna had come storming in from the kitchen and ordered them all to hush up, or else.

Montana turned out to be better than he had expected, wide-open and friendly, with a few exceptions. A desk clerk at the motel in Missoula shot him a hard look when she saw the name on the credit card. Being a Garcia from Miami wasn't easy these days. Some people automatically assumed you had six kilos in the trunk and a loaded Uzi under the front seat.

Erin thought, ludicrously, of how disappointed her mother would be. When one's only daughter is hacked to death wearing a sequined bra top and a G-string--well, there's really no way to explain it to one's friends at the orchid club.

Shad pointed to the book on the cocktail table. 'The guy in this story, he turns into a motherfucking centipede. Wakes up one morning and bingo! He's a bug. Sounds asinine, but it sure makes you think. People change overnight, they're not careful.

Miklos said he's applied to be night clerk at a Ramada Inn near the beach. He said the waiting list was two pages long. 'But I got more experience than most.' 'You're not kidding,' Garcia said. 'Good luck with that job.' 'Thank you,' Miklos said. 'Good luck with your murder.

Neighbors were divided on the question of whether Mrs. Braden had been excessive in her reaction. Witnesses agreed that Jesse had been a prodigious sinner, and often conducted himself in a manner that invited homicide. The shooting itself was not so much at issue as Mrs. Braden's selection of anatomical targets. The men in the crowd, sober and otherwise, felt that the mere spilling of an alcoholic beverage--and subsequent insensitive laughter--failed to justify three bullets through the penis.

Erin said, 'I'll ask you what you've been dying to ask me: how in the world can you do it?' 'Do what?' 'Your job. Dead bodies, day after day. I couldn't take it.' The detective said, 'hey, it's a growth industry. The state could sell fucking bonds.

She said, 'you think I'm a whore?' 'Don't be ridiculous.' Erin stepped back from the water. 'But you wouldn't want your daughter doing what I do.' 'My daughter,' said Garcia, 'is not leaving the house until she's thirty years old.

Guess what I got in the trunk? An Igloo cooler. And guess what's in the cooler? A human head.' Shad violently expelled the cigar out the window. He wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his camo jacket. 'No joke,' Garcia said. 'Property of one Francisco Goyo, deceased. I can't begin to tell you how much gas I've wasted on the case. The fat prick got dumped in a dozen different zip codes.' 'Why,' Shad asked, 'do you got his head in an Igloo?' 'So it won't stink up the car.

Eventually Garcia asked what it was like to work in a nude dance club. Shad puffed out a heavy grunt. 'After a while, you don't notice.' 'Come on.' 'Really. I'm to the point where I get excited when they put their clothes on. That's what happens after too long.' Garcia said, 'I know guys who would kill for your job.' 'They can have it. Being around naked women all day is bad for your outlook. After a while it's just tits and ass and nothing special. Like if you worked an assembly line making Ferraris. Before long, they're just cars and that's all.

As she grew older, Erin accepted the fact that her mother was a restless gold digger who would never be happy, never be satisfied. On the other hand, her husbands knew exactly what they were getting and didn't seem to care. It taught Erin one of life's great lessons: an attractive woman could get whatever she wanted, because men were so laughably weak.

For political reasons, the government's payout to the sugar industry was patriotically promoted as aid to the struggling family farmer. True, some of the big sugar companies were family owned, but the family members themselves seldom touched the soil. The closest most of them got to the actual crop were the cubes that they dropped in their coffee at the Banker's Club.

Killian won't go for it. The mother won't go for it. Hell, Davey, I've got no morals whatsoever, and I wouldn't go for it! It's the worst goddamn thing I ever heard.

Would he go for a bribe? Straight cash?' 'He says it's against his principles,' David Dilbeck said. 'But he's amenable to a free blowjob.' A pulse became visible in Moldowsky's neck. 'Let's see if I understand. Only if the lady goes down on the judge does she get custody of her child?' 'He says he'll consider it, that's all. 'Brownie points' is the way he put it.' 'David, I'll say this: you're one terrific negotiator. They needed you at the fucking SALT talks.

In appearance though, Darrell seemed anything but a criminal. Erin was still naive enough to believe that all crooks had bad teeth, greasy hair and jailhouse tattoos. She assumed that cleancut, good-looking men enjoyed the same natural advantages as cleancut, good-lucking women: the world treated you better, and consequently there was no reason for unwholesome behavior.

Malcolm J. Moldowsky could see the ugliness unfolding. It would take all his subterranean talents to save the sugar bill, and he couldn't do it if Dilbeck got caught in a sex scandal. After years of slithering through political gutters, Moldowsky was still amazed at how primevally stupid most politicians could be, on any given night.

Those who ignore history are doomed to get their nuts cut.

But she's just a stripper.' Moldowsky grabbed Dilbeck's shirt. 'Fanne Fox,' he said, 'was just a stripper. Donna Rice was just a model-slash-actress. Elizabeth Ray was just a secretary who couldn't type. Gennifer Flowers was just a country singer. Don't you get it? Ask Chuck Robb. Or that horny idiot Hart. Teddy Kennedy, for pity's sake. They'll all tell you the same: in politics, stealing is trouble, but pussy is lethal.

Malcolm J. Moldowsky did not hesitate to address United States Congressman Dave Dilbeck as 'a card-carrying shithead.

In five minutes Urbana Sprawl was due to wrestle in a vat of cooked linguini.