Cherry Bomb

Sammy puts both arms around her daughter, cradling her face. “Our neighbor watches the bug. I only work four nights a week.”

“Money that good?”

“It’ll do till I get my business degree. I’m taking some classes during the day, when she’s in school.”

No husband, no mother, and a stripper to boot. She’s almost perfect.

“If to night isn’t good, maybe sometime later?”

“Definitely. Let’s trade numbers.”

Sammy digs a pen out of her purse, writes down Alex’s cell phone number on the back of a McDonald’s receipt. She rips the paper in half, and gives Alex her number.

“One more thing, Sammy. And this is embarrassing. When I was working, sometimes the customers would want a little extra attention, and I got busted. As a condition of my parole, I’m not allowed to associate with any known criminals. If you’ve got a record…”

Sammy shakes her head.

“I’m clean as a whistle. High Rollers gets stung all the time, under-cover cops coming in, trying to get the girls to do more than dance. Two of my friends got nailed, so I don’t do that. Not that I think it’s wrong or anything. Just can’t risk getting arrested when I’ve got Melinda to look after.”

“Cool. Good luck to night. Make some money.”

“I always do. Hopefully we can hook up soon, Gracie.”

Alex smiles her half smile and pats Melinda on the head.

“You can count on it.”

CHAPTER 15

PHIN WORE JEANS and a white T-shirt, an outfit I’d seen him in many times. When he was bald from the chemo, it made him look like Mr. Clean, right down to the broad chest and narrow hips. He was currently in remission and his hair was back, blond and cut short.

He was leaning over the pool table, lining up his shot using a bridge. I’d never seen him use a bridge before, but when I eased through the throng of bar patrons and got closer I saw the reason. His left arm was in a sling.

Phin glanced up at me, looked back down at the table, and worked the stick. The cue ball hit the six, which knocked the nine into a side pocket, wi

“Lucky shot, crip. Let’s go again.”

Phin laid down the cue and the money disappeared into his jeans.

“Some other time, pal. I’ve got some other competition.”

“Like hell. We’re going again. I got money to win back.”

“I said later.”

“I said now!”

Mean Eyes grabbed Phin by his bad arm, high on the biceps. Phin spun, so fast he was a blur, coming up behind the guy and snatching his hair. He yanked, flipping his attacker over an outstretched leg and onto his back. Phin placed a boot heel on his throat as Mean Eyes flailed his arms. The flailing stopped when Phin raised the cue, directly over the man’s eye.

“I beat you at nine ball one-handed. You want me to kick your ass one-handed?”

Mean Eyes attempted to shake his head. Tough to do, when someone is stepping on your neck.

Phin raised his foot, and the guy scrambled away, pushing through the gawkers. Then Phin tilted up his head at me. My dress was still damp and clingy, and his stare lingered on my body in an unmistakably male way. I’d been gawked at by men all day, but this time it didn’t bother me. Truth told, it made my skin flush, which warmed me up for the first time in hours. When Phin’s eyes finally met mine, they were kind.

“Hi, Jack. Latham was a good guy. I’m sorry I couldn’t go to the funeral.”

I had expected Phin to make an appearance, after all we’d been through together. But my earlier chat with the Feebies explained his absence.

“Too many cops there,” I said.

“Not my kind of crowd.”

“Last time we spoke, you told me you weren’t wanted for anything.”

“You had enough on your mind, Jack. Didn’t want to burden you.”

I should have been pissed, but the smile was already on my lips.

“Road flares?”

Phin’s face stayed blank.

“What are you referring to, Lieutenant?”

“You want to play coy? You weren’t coy for the bank cameras. The Feds showed me a nice picture of you waving.”

“Must have me confused with some other handsome guy.” His voice betrayed nothing, but his eyes crinkled at the edges.

“You don’t trust me, Phin? Think I’m wearing a wire?”

“I know you’re not.” His eyes moved down. “Not the way that dress is hugging you.”

I blushed harder, hoped he didn’t notice it, then wondered why I cared one way or another. Phin was a friend, and nothing more. He was also a criminal. Our relationship went as far as playing pool, and doing each other occasional favors. Sex was not among those favors, and it should have been the last thing on my mind at the moment.

I came closer, resting my hip against the table.

“How’d you hurt your arm?”

“Dislocated elbow. Happened that night with Alex.”

“You never told me.”

“You had enough on your mind. Didn’t want to burden you.”

He moved a step closer, until we were less than a foot apart. His expression was friendly, playful. In the bar lighting his blue eyes appeared deep purple.

“You here for a game?”

“No time. How bad is the elbow?”

Phin removed the sling, stretched out his arm. I watched his face. If he was in pain, I couldn’t tell.

“I’m supposed to keep it immobile, but I have a full range of motion.”

“Painkillers?”

“Nonprescription. Alex back?”

I nodded.

“Who’s on our side?”

“Just me and McGlade.”

“So now we’re three. When are we starting?”

“Now. You free?”

Phin leaned in, until our bodies were almost touching. His friendly stare became something else.

“I’m always free for you, Jack.”

His breath was warm, and smelled faintly of ci

“We need guns,” I said.

Phin took the hint, gave me some space. “I know a guy.”

I gri

“Haven’t had much practice. But I’m a quick study.”

“I meant with your injury.”

“I’m good at coping. But I need to pick up some things first.”

“No time. Latham’s paying for this. We can get you clothes and toiletries at the store.”

“Some things aren’t for sale at the store.”

I wondered what he meant, then wondered if I really wanted to know.

“We need to go now, Phin.”

“Okay.” Phin dug his hands into his pockets. “I’m yours.”

We made our way through Joe’s, weaving through laughing, happy people, and one who wasn’t laughing or happy.

“Liar! You ain’t crippled!”

Mean Eyes broke through the crowd and launched himself at Phin. I caught a glimpse of something in his hand, and my leg whipped around in a spin kick, my head snapping back to take aim. I planted my foot dead center in the guy’s gut, as hard a blow as I’ve ever landed. He fell to his knees, dropped his knife, clutched his belly, and began puking up beer. I should have arrested him, but I didn’t have my badge on me, didn’t have any handcuffs, and didn’t have the time.

I bent down and grabbed his knife, a four-inch folder with a serrated blade. Phin squatted next to me and picked up my heel, which had broken off.

“Nice. Red is my favorite color.”

I didn’t understand what he meant, because my dress and shoes were black.

Only when we walked outside did I remember that my pan ties were red. My dress must have ridden up while I was kicking.

I felt myself flush, embarrassed, even though I had no reason to be. Phin was a friend. Nothing more.

I kept saying that to myself, over and over, as we walked back to the Crimebago.