Motor Mouth (Alex Barnaby 2) - Page 81

“Making conversation. I read somewhere that men like it when you seem interested in their work.”

More smiling. “The guy I work for is in the import-and-export business. I facilitate movement.”

“What does he export? Carburetors?”

“Maybe we should take this conversation somewhere else,” he said. “Like over to the bar.”

The night’s game plan. Get the dumb chick liquored up. “Sure,” I said.

We walked a short distance and went up the stairs that led to the outdoor bar attached to Monty’s. We wrangled a couple stools and ordered drinks. I looked over Simon’s shoulder and saw Hooker watching from an alley, making signs like he was going to hang himself.

“Excuse me,” I said. “I’ll be right back.”

I followed Hooker down the alley and around the corner.

“What was that all about?” I asked him.

“Did you order a drink?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh man, you’re gonna get drunk, and then I’ll have to rescue you from King Kong there. He’s got about thirty pounds on me. It’s going to be ugly.”

“I’m not going to get drunk.”

“Darlin’, you’re just about the worst drinker I’ve ever seen. You get drunk on fumes when you open a bottle of merlot. What did you order? I bet you got one of those froufrou drinks with the fruit and the umbrellas.”

“I got a beer.”

“Lite beer?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Do you want me to try to get information out of this guy, or what?”

Hooker stood hands on hips. Unhappy. “The only reason I’m agreeing to this is because I know how good you are at saying no.”

I returned to the bar. “So, talk to me,” I said to Simon. “Tell me about this importing and exporting. I imagine you import and export race cars.”

“Race cars?”

“You’re visiting on the Huevo boat, so I assumed you were involved in racing.”

“Not even a little. Huevo Industries has their finger in a lot of pies.”

He was drinking Jack Daniel’s on the rocks. He slugged his down and glanced at me. I was sipping my beer like a lady. He looked like he wanted to tell me to hurry up, but he got himself under control and ordered another Jack.

“What do you do?” he asked.

“I sell ladies’ undies.”

I have no idea where that came from. It just popped out. And from the expression on his face, it was a good choice. A lot better than telling him I was a mechanic, for instance.

“Like at Victoria’s Secret?” he asked.

“Yep, that’s me. I’m a Victoria’s Secret lady.”

He belted back the second Jack. “I always wanted to meet a Victoria’s Secret lady.”

“Well, this is your lucky day.”

Tags: Janet Evanovich Alex Barnaby Mystery
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