Shaw opened his eyes and cleared his throat. “She wanted to hook up.”

“Well, yeah. What’s new? And you told her that a fancy rentboy like you charges five hundred bucks, right?”

“Of course.”

“We could really use that money.”

“Kissing is five hundred. Anything else is a thousand.”

North grinned. “Did you ever wonder what got her so hot on your trail? I mean, I know you play hard to get.”

“I don’t play hard to get.”

“So you’re easy?” North smirked and raised one hand from the wheel when Shaw started to protest. “On the eyes, I mean.”

“I just like to take my time. Get to know someone first.”

“Um, no.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s just your vibe.”

“I had my vibrations checked by Master Hermes last time I went—”

“No, not that vibration and harmonics and aura bullshit. Your vibe. Your—your whole thing. You.”

The patch of Highway 40 ahead looked like it had survived an acid bath, and for the next half a minute neither of them spoke. The Caravan bounced like a carnival ride, and Shaw had to clutch at the door handle and try to keep his lingering hangover from detonating his head like a shaped charge.

When they’d cleared the minefield, though, Shaw said, “What’s my thing?”

“Come on.”

“No, I’m serious. What’s my thing? What’s giving Regina this idea to walk right up and try to jump my bones?”

“You’re joking, right?”

“No, I’m not joking. What is it? What’s my vibe?”

“Master Hermes can tell you.”

“Don’t be an asshole.”

“It was just a joke. All right. Your vibe.” North studied him askew for a moment. “Hippy. The hemp pants, for example. Even if they do make your ass look incredible, they also mark you as a total hippy. And your hair. And the yoga shirt. And when you talk about crystals and coffee enemas—”

“I have never had a coffee enema.”

“You literally could not stop talking about coffee enemas last month.”

“Yeah, I talked about them. I haven’t had one.”

“Ok, prepare yourself for a really big surprise: you come off as a hippy when you talk about stuff like that.”

“And?”

“I don’t know, it’s a whole thing.” North’s lips compressed as though he were holding something back, and then he added, “I think you give people the impression that you’re into that kind of stuff. Like, free love. Swinging.”

“Swinging.”

“One night stands.”

“Nobody has called it swinging since the 70s.”

“They probably call it something else these days. I’m a happily married man, so I wouldn’t know.”

Shaw wasn’t sure why, but that line, delivered by North with his face locked forward and his hands compressing the steering wheel, was the last straw.

“I’m not a hippy.”

“Ok.”

“I don’t sleep around.”

“I know. You play hard to get. But that’s not my point.”

“So what’s your point?”

“My point is that you’ve got this whole come-fuck-me vibe that drives guys crazy, and then you play hard to get. And I’m not saying it’s intentional. You want to take your time and get to know guys. I think that makes a lot of sense, especially after everything you’ve been through—”