She was nine kinds of beautiful and there were no two ways about it. She walked into my life like a breath of fresh air, a 5’8″ leggy brunette with a gaze of steel and the grace of a swan, the body of a goddess, hair done up tight in a way that meant business but promised pleasure later. Classy broads like her didn’t walk into my life every day. Hell, I’da been lucky to see a dame this good twice, ever. And what’s more, t’day, she needed me. Nothing gets a hold of a man’s ego like being needed by a lady, and she had me twirled around her finger like spaghetti ’round a fork.
Rose Luciatto, her name was. Exotic as that body. I glanced again at the photo, memorising the face, fixing it in my head like the dartboard on the back on my door. It was part of the job to recognise faces, even in dirty dark places. Slip up once, twice, bam, you were no better than any other schmuck off the street and good luck getting business.
I’d seen Rose before, a month ago, in passing. She walked past right here, at my home-away-from-home. Someone else had me in their pocket at the time, but part of the job was spending a lot of time twirling thumbs waiting for something to happen, and I got to liking looking out for people like rose.
Gawd, did I say she was Aphrodite made flesh or what?
I glanced at my watch. Swiss movement, best in the damn world. It was showtime. The femme fatale would come around the corner in the next minute, bag in hand and broad-brimmed hat set at exactly that reckless angle that got the attention of every Joe Schome in the room. I pulled on my gloves and hat, and as if on cue she rounded the corner. Time to make your move, Scully.
“Excuse me – Miss Luciatto? I’m Scully, and-”
“The driver Papa sent right? I’m going to stay at the City Hilton. My bags are still back round the corner.”
“Yes Ma’am. Right away Ma’am. This way Ma’am.”
She walked into me life like a whirlwind, and out just as quick, but damn me if she wasn’t the finest to sit in my limo-for-hire.