She put her hands on the mattress behind her and leaned on them and looked at him. “Being chief of police?”

“No. Knowing all the ins and outs of this little burg. It’s not that great an accomplishment. You shouldn’t feel so superior over it.”

“Stop looking at my thighs.”

He was quiet a moment, then said, “They’re right there.”

She did not change position. “The smart thing is for me to get out of town. The problem is I need to wait until dark so I can go back uptown and figure a way to sneak into my room and get my stuff. I’ve got two valises of clothes I’d rather not give up and a roll of bills in my closet that I need pretty much to go anywheres. If nobody’s found it yet”.

“You think someone’s gone through your room?”

“Could be. I’d bet a dollar there’s at least some young beat-cop camped out in the hallway waiting for me to show up, probably hoping he can get a blowjob before he hauls me in anyway.”

“I wish you wouldn’t talk that way.”

“Facts of life bother you that much?”

“No. You don’t need to impress me. I figure you came here because you thought I could help. I’ll do what you need done. That’s all.”

“I came here because there was nowhere else to go.”

“Isn’t that what I just said?”

“Not really.” She looked away from him. And then back. “I’d have come down even if you wasn’t here. This is where I grew up.” Then she stopped, as if having said already more than planned.

“You don’t look Italian.”

“I’m not”.

“You got family here?”

“No.”

They were quiet. Finally he looked away from her to the window. It was afternoon but still early; the light fell into the room at a slight angle.

“What’re you thinking?”

He didn’t look at her. “Trying to figure this out.”

“I know I’m trouble pretty much all the way around.” She said this flat, her voice old and bereft of anything.

He looked at her. “Hey there, Joey.” Reached and touched her bare knee. The round cup of knee seeming to him an eye opened onto the world.

She drew her legs up and stepped off the bed. Went to the side of the window and looked down on the street. Reached up and touched her broken nose and then the bunched eye. Then turned and pointed to the package on the chair. “What’s this?”

“A dress.” Watching her.

“For me?”

“I figured your other one wasn’t any good anymore.”

She took the package up and looked at him. Then opened it, dropping the string and tearing off the paper with quick movements and he felt he was seeing her, that she was showing herself, for the first time. She shook the dress out and held it up before her, facing him. “It’s yellow.”

“I thought it might look good on you. I always seen you in those dark colors. It’s just to get by.”