"Not for Spielberg, but for assholes like that, yeah. We gave 'em everything. Mikes, props, fake blood, filters, misters, eye chamois, coffee makers, cups, tables, the fuckin' works. The big items were a dolly and a couple of cameras- old gear, no studio would touch 'em, but still they cost. Supposed to be a ten-day rental. They had no history with us and it was obviously like a virgin voyage, so we demanded double deposit and they gave us a check that we verified was covered. I got I.D., everything by the book. Not only didn't they pay up, they fucking split with the equipment. When we tried to cash the deposit check, guess what?"

He bared his teeth. Surprisingly white. Behind them, something glinted. Pierced tongue. No click when he talked-the voice of experience. Were pain thresholds rising among the new generation? Would it make for a better Marine Corps?

I said, "What made you think it was a virgin voyage?"

"They putzed around, didn't know what they were doing. What pisses me off is I guided them, man, told them how to get the most for their money. Then they go and screw me."

"You got blamed?"

"Boss said I did the transaction, I was assigned to find 'em, try to recover. I couldn't find shit."

"You say 'they,' " said Milo. "How many people are we talking about?"

"Two. Guy and a girl."

"What'd they look like?"

"Twenties, thirties. She was okay-looking, blond hair- light blond, like Marilyn Monroe, Madonna, when she was like that. But long and straight. Nice body, but nothing special. Okay face. He was tall, older than her, trying to play hip."

"How old?" said Milo.

"Probably in his thirties. She was maybe younger. I wasn't really paying attention. She didn't say much, it was mostly him."

"How tall was he?" said Milo.

"About your size, but skinny. Not as skinny as me, but nothing like you either." Smirk.

"Hair color?" said Milo.

"Dark. Black. Long."

"Like yours?"

"He wished, man. His was curly, like a perm, maybe went to here." He touched his shoulders.

"Platinum blond for her," said Milo, writing. "Long and curly for him. Maybe wigs?"

"Sure they were," said Hair. "It's not exactly hard to tell, man."

"What kind of clothing did they wear?"

"Regular. Nothing special."

"Any other distinguishing marks?"

Hair laughed. "Like '666' on their foreheads? Nope, unh-uh."

"Could you identify them if you saw them again?"

"I dunno." The pierced tongue slid between his upper and lower teeth. The mannerism formed his mouth into a tragedy-mask frown. "Probably not. I wasn't really paying attention to their faces. I was concentrating on getting them the most for their money."

"But maybe you could recognize them?"

"Why, you have a picture?"

"Not yet."

"Well, bring one if you get it. Maybe, no promises."

"The fact they were wearing wigs," said Milo. "That didn't bother you?"

"Why should it?"