The star on a door at the end of the corridor told him where she was, and he tapped with a long, glossy fingernail.
Gilda opened the door.
She had on a pale-green wrap that enhanced her colouring, and it was as much as he could do not to make a grab at her.
She looked him over; her great green eyes cold and steady.
“Yes?”
Louie remembered she had given him that look before. Before she had
become an established singer she had once sung at his club and he had tried to proposition her without success. His leering little smile stiffened.
This wren would have to be taught a lesson, he told himself. He would take a lot of pleasure knocking the starch out of her when he got her where he wanted her.
“I saw Johnny last night,” he said, leaning against the doorpost. “Want to talk about it?”
That cracked her veneer, he noticed. She lost the high-hat look and the anxious expression that came into her eyes gave him confidence.