Afterward, she slept, but Abel remained awake, thinking about how it had all started. A long time ago, he’d come to Lillian’s house just to do plumbing. But he’d caught her crying, and Abel, ever the sucker for a woman in tears, had given her his shoulder. Somehow they’d ended up in bed. Maybe she’d felt comfortable with Abel because he hadn’t been threatening, missing a leg and all. Whatever the reason had been, Abel had still been shocked when she’d tried to tip him with a hundred-dollar bill. It had been a pity fuck, and both of them knew it, but he hadn’t expected to get paid for it.

He’d stalked off, offended.

She’d called him back that same day, let the phone ring, and ring and ring. Same thing had happened the next day, and the next. He had regarded her as a supreme pain in the ass. But a persistent pain. Maybe that had been why he’d agreed to see her again. Maybe a certain part of him admired her tenacity. Soon they had an arrangement, but the rules from the start had always been clear. Yes, she was paying him, but Abel was calling the shots. And she’d treated him with respect because of it.

He turned to his right, saw her head buried deeply in a down-filled pillow, her lips parted, snoring gently. He chuckled to himself. Good old Honest Abe Atwater, the one with cardiac muscle made of mush. It cost him his girl, his leg…

Lillian snorted, opened her eyes. Abel smiled.

“How was your beauty rest?” he asked.

“Good, thanks.” Her face had softened, had become more feminine. She took his hand and said, “Now that we have all this…business—”

“Plumbing business,” Abel said.

Lillian laughed. “Plumbing taken care of…want to tell me why you came here?”

“Glad to,” Abel said. “I need money, Lil.”

Lillian nodded, her expression fixed. Abel gave her a lot of credit. She knew what they had, what this was all about, and didn’t try to make it anything more. A minute passed, and she said, “I’ve got about two-fifty in my wallet. Will that tide you over?”

“I need fifteen hundred. Cash.”

“Fifteen hundred?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“What for?”

“Bail money.”

“Bail money?” Lillian laughed. “Got yourself in a little bind, did you?”

“A big bind.”

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Abel said. “I fucked a whore. She accused me of raping her—”

“You’re accused of raping a whore?”

“It isn’t the rape part that’s the problem,” Abel said. “She was sliced up. They think I did that, too.”

Lillian’s mouth dropped open. She stared at him for a long time. “Did you?”

“Don’t ask me that,” he said. “It’s insulting.”

“Sorry,” Lillian said. She took out a cigarette. “I’m very sorry. Of course you didn’t.”