BooksBarbecue
Back Sex, Lies, and Serious Money
Chapters (65)
  1. Cover
  2. BOOKS BY STUART WOODS
  3. Dedication
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. 56
  60. 57
  61. 58
  62. 59
  63. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  64. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  65. What’s next onyour reading list?

The kid reporter stopped to ask Laurence another question, but Faith got him by the collar and moved him toward the door on his tiptoes. “You’d better watch your ass, Chip Arnold,” she said. “One of my security guys nearly plugged you last night.” She closed the door firmly behind him and followed Laurence into the living room. “Great job, kiddo. I wish all my clients could handle them that way. That should get them off your back for a while.”

“Do I have to go to California,” Laurence asked, “or can I stay here in your house?”

“Sweetie, you’re welcome in this house anytime. Make yourself at home. Now, is there anything else I can do for you?”

“What’s my next move?”

“Get a haircut and a shave from Betty and be returned to your former glory. I’ve got an eight o’clock flight to New York, and my car’s waiting.”

“Did you come all the way out here for this?” he asked.

“Of course. Stone called me last night, and I was on a plane at daybreak.” She shrugged. “It’s what I do.”

“And you do it very well,” Laurence said, giving her a hug, then he went and submitted himself to the tender ministrations of the estimable Betty.

And shortly, he was himself again.

30

BUTCH HAD JUST taken Theresa’s boxes to the Fairleigh and left them with the concierge, when the doorbell rang.

Curly stood there, his bulk filling the door frame. “Hi, Butch. You moved and didn’t mention it to me.”

“Theresa is out of town for a few days and offered me the place. I’d ask you in, but I promised her I wouldn’t have visitors.”

Curly brushed him aside, as if he were a pesky insect, and entered the apartment. “I see she took a lot of her stuff with her. Where’d she go for a few days?”

“Out of town. What do you want, Curly?”

“I need some money, not much—a few grand.”

“You got a hundred and fifty grand out of our caper, just like me. In fact, I paid our expenses, so you did better.”

“Well, I had a little run-in with some ponies.”

“You’ve been going to the track? You don’t know anything about the horses.”

“You don’t have to go to the track—there’s a telephone service available, called a bookie.”

“Oh, shit. How much did you lose?”

“How much did I have?”

“Not the whole hundred and fifty grand!”

“A little more than that. That’s why I need the twenty-five grand.”

“You lost . . .” Butch’s mind boggled.

“The bookie also has a pickup service, where he sends a couple of guys over for the money you owe him. That’s why I can’t go to my apartment, and I have to bunk with you until I pay him.”

“Another twenty-five grand, from me?”