The blonde continued to eye us. She couldn’t make up her mind which of us to concentrate on.
“Well, sugar plum,” Hoskiss said, “that’s a nice face and body you’re wearing, but I’d hate to share you with anyone. Isn’t there some frill who’d take care of my boy friend so we can be alone together?”
“Isn’t he big enough to find his own frill?” she asked in a drawling voice. “The joint’s lousy with girls.”
“There you are,” Hoskiss said to me. “Don’t horn in on my discovery. Take a look around. Peach blossom says the girls’ joints are lousy.”
I gaped at him. He was certainly relaxing.
The Cuban shoved the whiskies at us, asked twice their worth.
Hoskiss waved to me.
“This is your party,” he said. He nodded to the Cuban. “My friend will pay. That’s the only reason why I go around with him.”
I slid five bucks to the Cuban. The blonde leaned against me. I smiled. The five spot had decided for her who she was going to be nice to. Hoskiss regarded her sadly.
“You leaning against the wrong man, or did you know?” he said.