Stalker. Faye Kellerman
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“About what?” Rhonda asked.
Cindy said, “He’s a little slow with his footwork.”
Hayley said, “You know, rumor has it that Slick Rick Bederman requested a transfer because of that. He was wrestling with a perp who had a knife. By the time Beaudry got there, the perp almost sliced an ear off. I’m not saying Beaudry’s not a good guy. Just telling you the pitfalls. So don’t go thinking I’m talking against him.”
“Not at all.” Still, Cindy felt uncomfortable. “I appreciate it. But I’m okay with him.”
“Suit yourself.” Hayley finished her glass of wine. “Are you just drinking tonight or what?”
“I’ve got nothing special on my roster.”
“We’re going to have some grub. You’re welcome to join us.”
Cindy smiled. “Well, there is that two-day-old bowl of pasta in my fridge.”
Hayley finally smiled. “That’s pathetic.”
Rhonda said, “You young ones just don’t cook anymore.”
Cindy said, “I can cook.” A pause. “I just choose not to—”
“Uh-huh,” Rhonda said.
“It’s a volitional thing,” Cindy said.
Hayley said, “Now, Rhonda, if you’re dying to cook for us—”
“After four kids, I’ve had enough with feeding mouths. Only mouth I want to feed right now is my own.”
Cindy said, “What’s good here?”
“How hungry are you?” Hayley asked. “Sandwich hungry? Or steak or chop hungry?”
“More sandwich than chop.”
“Try the beef dip,” Hayley said.
“Maybe I’ll have the beef dip,” Rhonda said. “Although I should have the turkey dip. I’m watching the fat.”
“Turkey dip’s not as good as the beef dip.” Hayley turned to Cindy. “It’s very dry.”
Cindy said, “You know, Rhonda, I’ll have the beef dip, and we can split, if you want.”
“If you’re having the beef dip, then maybe I’ll have the tuna,” Hayley said. “You don’t mind if I steal a little from you … although tuna and beef dip don’t exactly go together.”
“Well, it’s not steak and lobster,” Cindy said.
“Maybe I’ll have the pastrami on rye,” Hayley said. “Do you like pastrami, Cindy?”
“I love pastrami.”
“Now I’m not touching that!” Rhonda said. “Talk about fat.”
“That’s no good,” Hayley said. “If you want to split, Ro, I’ll take something else. How about ham and cheese?” She turned to Cindy. “You like ham and cheese?”
“Not really. I don’t eat ham. I’m Jewish.”
“Oh …” Hayley thought for a moment. “So you’re kosher?”
“No, I’m not kosher, I just don’t eat ham. We never had it growing up. Although sometimes we did have bacon.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“I know.” She shrugged.
Hayley said, “So if I had a club, you’d split that?”
“Yeah, I’d split that.”
“And that’s okay with you, Ro?”
“What’s in a club?”
“Turkey, bacon, and avocado.”
“Skip the avocado. It’s not that I don’t like avocado.” She patted her sizable middle. “It doesn’t like me.”
Hayley pouted. “But that’s the best part.”
“All right, so keep the avocado.”
Cindy said, “What are we ordering? I’m confused.”
“I’ll handle it.” Hayley motioned Jasmine over. She said, “A beef dip with extra onions and lots of gravy, French fries and slaw, a turkey dip with extra cranberries, mashed potatoes instead of stuffing, and slaw, and a club on toasted rye, half with avocado, half plain.”
“You want fries with that, Marx?”
“Yeah, you can give me fries.”
“Refill on the wine?”
“Yeah.”
“Another Miller Lite for you, hon?”
Cindy thought a moment. “Better make it a Diet Coke.”
“Why?” Hayley asked. “How many beers have you had?”
“I just finished number three. I’m okay, but let’s not tempt the booze fairy.”
“I’m also on number three.” Hayley made a face. “Make mine a Diet Coke, too.”
“Got it.” Jasmine looked over the order, then at Cindy. “Which order is yours?”
“Why?” Hayley asked.
“Because hers is on the house.”
Rhonda and Hayley started hooting.
“Why?” Cindy smiled. “What’s so funny?”
Hayley said, “Doogle is at it again.”
“Who is Doogle?”
“The horny leprechaun who owns the place.”
Jasmine said, “Don’t listen to them, honey. They’re just jealous. Now what’s your order?”
“What is my order?” Cindy asked the others. “The beef dip?”
“What’s the most expensive item we have?” Rhonda asked.
“The club.”
“Hers is the club.”
Jasmine laughed. “You guys!” She turned and walked away.
Cindy said, “Who is this Doogle?”
“A very little man.” Hayley marked about two feet off the ground with her hand. “Hits on all the women.”
“On cops?”
“On anything with a moo-moo,” Rhonda said.
“A moo-moo?”
Hayley said, “He could suck my pussy standing up if I’d let him.”
“How tall is he?”
“’Bout five three. Maybe fifty years old—”
“He sounds perfect,” Cindy said. “Actually, he sounds like my last blind date.”
“He’s got money,” Rhonda said.
“Well, that part isn’t bad.”
“Those types are always stingy,” Hayley said. “You know, I make it, I spend it. You lick my balls, and maybe I’ll give you meter money.”
Cindy laughed. “Been there, done that.”
Hayley laughed, too. “Are we sounding drunk yet?”
“No, just plain bitter,” Cindy said.
“Uh-oh!” Hayley said. “Look who just walked in. Ole sleaze in a bottle.” She gave him a little wave. “Look out, he’s coming our way.”
Cindy