The Long Path Home - Ellen Lindseth Page 0,3

of drinks, get to know one another a bit. If I’m to discuss creating a mutually satisfactory arrangement, I feel like I should know you better.”

She knew she was babbling but couldn’t make herself stop.

“A couple of drinks.” He gave her a long, considering look.

“Yes. You know, liquid courage and all that.”

Another heart-stopping moment passed in silence. Then he nodded slowly. “All right, if that’s what you want. But I’m not in the mood to be alone tonight, so we’re gonna have those drinks now.”

“I’m not exactly dressed,” Vi pointed out, hoping any delay would give her time to think of a way out of her predicament. “Give a girl fifteen minutes?”

His soulless gaze ran down her body, a dull flush of excitement darkening his cheeks. Vi repressed a shudder. “As much as I prefer you this way, I’ll allow you five minutes. But that’s it. As I said, I’m not a patient man.”

“Five minutes, perfect. And if you wouldn’t mind, I don’t want to hold our discussion in public; nor do I want to disturb my landlady so late at night. Perhaps we could go to your place? I’m fine with taking a taxi home afterward.”

Not that his place was an oasis of safety, but at least it would offer them a little privacy. She didn’t care to become known as Tony’s moll. Her reputation was questionable enough.

Appreciation briefly warmed his obsidian eyes. “That’s what I like about you, Lily—all sensibility, yet with the morals of an alley cat.”

She twisted her lips into what she hoped was a smile. “Such sweet talk, Tony. So romantic! Now if you’ll excuse me, somebody gave me only five minutes, and you’re delaying me.”

Tony chuckled but got the hint and left.

The moment the curtain fell closed behind him, Vi ran back to her vanity and yanked open the bottom drawer. Frantically, she dug through the assorted G-strings and nipple patches until she found a small amber glass bottle. Thank heavens she hadn’t accidentally thrown it out. A gift from her landlady, who had also taught her how to make a decent Mickey Finn with it, the knockout drops had saved her from being raped more than once.

Some fellows just refused to believe she had no interest in selling her body on the side, especially given her line of work. They would accost her backstage, or follow her home, or shadow her around town. Rather than risk being injured by a rejected suitor, which could endanger her career, she would politely agree to a drink, preferably at a hotel or at their place, and then slip them a Mickey Finn at some point in the evening. The next time they met, she always thanked them for a lovely time and then regretfully mentioned she had a policy of no repeat business. It only created attachments that couldn’t go anywhere, as they could well imagine, yes?

Of course, she had turned tricks back at the beginning, when she had been broke and starving. A lot of girls did when they first started out. Food didn’t come cheap in Chicago. But once she had started moving up the ranks from chorus girl to solo stripper to headliner, she had also started earning enough dough to be choosy about her lovers. Very choosy. As in she slept only with fellows for whom cash inducements weren’t needed and whose careers didn’t morally repel her.

Tony failed in both categories.

She held the fragile bottle up to the light. Relief flooded her as she saw there was still a bit of liquid left inside. With any luck it would be enough, though Tony wasn’t exactly a small man.

The trick would be finding a way to hide the bottle somewhere on her person until she was ready for it.

She eyed her garment rack, assessing and discarding dresses in rapid succession. The jade green silk had a lovely low neckline that would make it easy to stash the bottle between her breasts but would also draw Tony’s eyes to her cleavage, which would be problematic if the bottle left a bump.

The black satin, on the other hand . . . was a backless sheath that would guarantee his attention stayed firmly on her derriere. The problem was the bodice was a single piece of fabric from neck to waist, leaving no easy way to access the bottle once hidden, since the whole dress was held up by the thin strap around her neck. But if she tied a sash around her waist, she could