She nodded. “I can relate.” “Come on, you’re way too young and pretty to be

alone.” She waved this off. “My dad died in prison. He popped a drug dealer who

gave him some bad coke. My mom smoked crack for breakfast till she croaked.” He

shot her another glance. “You’re shitting me?” She grinned. “Maybe I am.” Her

smile vanished. “Or maybe I’m not. I know I’ve been on my own since I was

thirteen.” “So you didn’t go to college, then?” “I went to East Carolina. And

let an idiot screw me because I was bored. But then you know about that.” She

laughed but then turned serious. She reached her hand across and laid it on top

of his. The look on her face was crystal clear as to her intent.

 

Still, it took Rogers a few moments to pick up on this. He was taken aback.

“Come on, I’m an old ugly fart who needs a face-lift.

 

Said so yourself.” She just continued to stare at him and stroke his hand.

 

Rogers looked back at the road. “When was the last time you were with a woman?”

she asked.

 

He glanced over to find her watching him. “It’s been a while.” “I could tell.”

Rogers looked back at the road. He didn’t know this woman. She was working for

Ballard. She was screwing Quentin. Apparently she was screwing whoever wanted to

do her. He didn’t know why he’d defended her at the breakfast place. It was none

of his concern. But he had done it nevertheless. “Paul?” she said. “Maybe we

should pull off the road.” He parked behind a boarded-up strip mall, put the van

in park, and looked at her. For the first time he really looked at her. Not as a