“Well, slick,” she said. “I see nobody chased you off yet.”

“It’s a pretty day, idn’t it?”

“Go on. I’m too expensive for you.”

“I don’t truck with whores.”

“I’d smack your face, it wasn’t too hot to stand. I’m no whore, I’m in the entertainment business. What, were you upstairs preaching Jesus to that wore-out old woman yesterday; was that it?”

He folded his arms and tilted his head back to study her. “Seems to me, an expensive girl like yourself don’t have much ambition. Can’t be much trade for an entertainer along this stretch. Makes me wonder why you’re not uptown. And an aberration don’t make a habit.”

“I’ve heard more ten-dollar words than you can imagine. Likely more than you even know. Any man found out always claims it was that onetime only thing. I’m surprised you don’t try and dress it up like it was her that lured you in there someway. I work nights up at Charlie Bacon’s Supper Club which I doubt you’ve been to or got into yet. And you know, bud, I don’t think it’s going to be me to invite you.”

“No,” he said. “I wouldn’t guess you’d want that.”

“I’ve heard sarcastic before too. Why don’t you go on before you put me to sleep?”

“Sure,” he said. “I’ll git. But you still haven’t explained why I keep seeing you down here, this part of town. You so high-class and all.”

She looked at him a long beat, her brows drawn, deliberating. Then shook her head, more a quiver than any motion distinct. He felt he wasn’t meant to see that. She said, “Some days I like to get some air, see the sun, before I go on to work. Uptown, there’s always some feller who’s seen me sing and comes on pestering me. This place, no one bothers me. At least, it used to be.”

He blinked at her, both eyes slow. Looked at her as if making up his own mind between disregarding her rudeness or her altogether. Then said, “I’d ask you to lunch but I’m meeting a man about a bit of work I’ve got in mind. Perhaps another time.”

“Dishwashers are a dozen to the dime this town. And I wouldn’t want to strain your pocketbook anyhow. At least not being trapped across a table for an hour with you. Fact is, more I see of you the less I think there’s anything of me you can buy at all.”

“You’re a smart little cookie,” he said, and tipped two fingers up against his brow as if he were wearing a hat and stepped away from her. “But you’re not as smart’s you think.”

“A course not,” she called to his back. “Not a one of us is.”

He went on. Ten paces she called out to him. “Joey.”

He stopped and turned, looked back at her, scowling. “That’s not my name.”

“It’s mine. What I’m called. Now don’t be telling people you’re a friend of mine. All I’m being is polite.”