Decker looked at the teenaged whore. Her right cheek had been bandaged where the knife wound was. The rest of her face was undeniably pretty. She was light-skinned, with amber almond-shaped eyes that slanted upward, giving her a hint of the Orient. Her jawline was long and sleek, her complexion smooth. Her lips were thick, her nose broad and poreless, her shoulder-length hair jet black, unruly and coarse, giving her a wild and sexy look. She had the sheet pulled up to her neck, until she noticed Decker’s eyes upon her. She lowered it, allowing him to see her open hospital gown, see large mounds of coffee-colored breasts.

“Like brown sugar, honey?” Her voice was hoarse.

Decker didn’t answer.

“Can always use more fuzz in my pocket,” she said.

“How many of us do you have?”

Myra smiled. “Why don’tchu join the club and find out?”

“Amazing you’re still going back to the trade after what happened to you.”

Myra was silent. She covered herself.

“Your main man pressing you a little hard, Myra?” Decker said. “You don’t work, it’s fewer pennies in his pocket.”

“Pennies?” Myra laughed. “Honey, I make more in a month than you do in a year.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Decker said. “But everyone knows it’s not what you get, it’s what you keep.”

Myra’s smile disappeared. “Fuck off. I’m not gonna do it and that’s that. So don’t try to convince me no more, or I’m gonna get real pissed and drop the whole case.”

Decker didn’t say anything, just tried to assimilate what he’d just heard. Drop the whole case? Myra seemed to misunderstand his silence.

“Look,” she said. “I sayed all this before, but I’ll say it again. Ain’t the first time I’ve been cut up—been the worst time, but it ain’t the first time. I go testify and ’spite all yo’ double-talk about none of my past history comin’ out, it’s gonna come out.”

Decker had to improvise. “The jury will be instructed to exclude any of your sexual history—”

“Shit, shit, and more shit,” Myra said. She took out an emery board from her nightstand drawer. Her eyes glanced at the clock. “What the hell do you think you doin’, botherin’ me with your shit at six-thirty in the morning? I didn’t even brush my teeth yet.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“I bet,” Myra said. She sawed her nail tips furiously. “Go away.”

Decker said, “I just want—”