Ken looked at him.
“You mean some woman ?”
“Some woman! How right you are. Old Hemmingway put me on to this dish. Everything’s very discreet; no danger of being seen, and everything taken care of. She’s a hostess. You needn’t be more than friendly if you don’t want to. She takes care of lonely guys like you. You pay her, of course. You can take her out for the evening and leave her at her apartment if you feel like it, or if you don’t you can go in. She’s a damn convenient and very safe outlet.” He took out his billfold, scribbled something on one of his cards and put it on the table. “That’s her phone number. Her name’s Fay Carson. All you have to do is call her, tell her you want to see her, and she’ll give you an appointment. She rates a little high, but she’s worth it.”
“No, thank you,” Ken said sharply.
“Take it and don’t be a mug,” Parker finished his drink and stood up. “I’d like to do her a good turn. I promised her I’d recommend her to my friends. I always keep a promise.”
Ken flicked the card off the table towards the fireplace.
“No, thanks,” he said again.
“Keep it by you. Take her out. She’s fun. She’s just what a lonely guy needs. Take her out tonight to a show. What’s the matter with that? She’s really something. I wouldn’t put you onto a cheap floosie. This girl’s got everything.”
“I’m sure of that,” Ken said curtly. “But I’m not interested.”
“Well, it’s your funeral. See you tomorrow. Thanks for the drink.” Parker nodded to the card lying in the hearth. “Don’t leave that about. Lock it up somewhere for future reference.”