I see her come in.It's hard not to see it.Her hair was blond almost silver, and if it were on a child's head it would be flaxen.The hair is braided on top and fastened with pins.She had a high, smooth forehead, prominent cheekbones, and a slightly larger mouth.With western style boots, she would be six feet tall.Mainly the legs are long.She was wearing purple designer jeans and a champagne fur jacket.It rained intermittently throughout the day, but she didn't bring an umbrella or cover her head.Beads of water shone like diamonds in her braids. She stood at the door for a moment, looking around.

It was Wednesday afternoon, around three thirty.At the Armstrong Bar, it was a slow hour.The lunchtime crowds have receded, and it's too early for customers who are off work.In fifteen minutes, a couple of teachers will be here for a drink, and after that some of the Roosevelt nurses who are off duty at four will be here.But at the moment, there were only three or four people at the bar, and two others were sitting at the table in the front, having just finished a bottle of wine.That's all.And of course, me, sitting at my usual table in the back. She recognized me right away, and I caught the blue of her eyes across the room.She stopped in front of the bar, and after confirming, she walked all the way around the table to me.

She said, "Mr. Scudder? I'm Kim Duckinen, a friend of Elaine Madle's." "She called me, please sit down." "Thank you." - Stick School · E Book Group - She sat down across from me, put her handbag on the table, and took out a pack of cigarettes and a disposable lighter.Before she lit a cigarette, she paused and asked me if I minded with a cigarette between my hands.I reassure her, just suck.Her voice was different from what I expected, very soft, standard Midwestern accent.Seeing her boots, fur, angular face, and that exotic name, I guess I'm hearing the voice of a masochist fantasy: harsh, harsh, with a European accent .She also looked younger than when I first saw her.Not more than twenty-five years old.

She lit the cigarette and put the lighter on top of the pack.The waitress, Evelyn, has been working the day shift for the past fortnight because she has landed a small part in an acting venue in Outer Hollywood.She always looked like she was about to yawn.Kim Duckinen was fiddling with a lighter when she came to the table.Jin ordered a glass of white wine.Evelyn asked me if I wanted some more coffee, and when I said yes, Kim said, "Oh, you're drinking coffee? I'm going to stop the liquor and have coffee. Is that okay?" When the coffee arrived, she added creamer and sugar, stirred it, and drank it in sips.She told me she doesn't drink very much, especially at this early hour.But she doesn't drink coffee like I do without sugar or milk, she never drinks black coffee, only coffee that is sweet and full-bodied, almost like dessert, she considers it very lucky that she never gained an ounce of weight because of it, she can Wouldn't it be lucky to eat anything and never gain an ounce?

I agree, lucky indeed. Have I known Elaine long?A few years, I said.Oh, she hadn't known her that long herself, in fact, she hadn't been in New York very long, and she didn't know her that well, but she thought Elaine was very nice.Do I agree with this?I agree.Elaine is extremely level-headed, very reasonable, and that's important, isn't it?I agree that's important. I let her take it easy.She talks a lot, laughs, and looks you in the eye as she talks.In a beauty pageant, she could win the "Most Popular" award even if she didn't come out on top, and I don't mind if it takes her a while to get down to business.I have nowhere else to go, and nothing better to do.

She said, "You were a policeman?" "It happened a few years ago." "Are you a private detective now?" "Not at all." Her eyes widened.It was a vivid blue, a rare shade, and I wondered if she wore contact lenses.Those soft lenses sometimes do weird things with eye color, changing some colors and deepening others. "I don't have a license," I explained, "and when I decided I wasn't going to wear a badge, I didn't want a license." Or fill out a form, keep a record, register with the tax collector, "Everything I do It's unofficial."

"Is this what you do? How you make a living?" "yes." "What do you call it? What you do." You could call it making money, but I didn't make much of it.It was work that came to me.I pass more jobs than I take, and I only accept jobs that I can't find an excuse to pass.Right now, I'm wondering what this woman wants from me, and what excuses I'll find to say no to her. "I don't know what to call it," I told her. "You could say I'm doing a friend a favor." Her face suddenly glowed.She has been laughing since she entered the door, but this time the smile came into her eyes for the first time.

"Oh wow, that's great," she said, "I'm getting some benefits too. I'm going to need a friend to help me with this one." "What trouble are you having?" She lights another cigarette in exchange for some time to think.She put the lighter in the middle of the cigarette case, lowered her eyes to look at her hand.Her nails were well manicured, long and handsome, and stained the color of tamarind port wine.On her left middle finger, she wore a gold ring inlaid with a large square emerald. She said, "You know what I do. Same as Elaine." "I got it."

"I'm a whore." I nodded.She sat up straight in her chair, stretched her shoulders, straightened her fur jacket, and unhooked her neck.I smell her perfume.I've smelled this scent before but can't remember where.I raised my cup and finished my coffee. "I want to quit." "From the present life?" She nodded. — Stick School · E Book Group — "I've been in this business for four years. I came here four years ago in July. August, September, October, November. Four years and four months. I'm twenty-three years old. Still Very young, isn't it?"

"yes." "It doesn't feel so young." She straightened her blouse again and refastened the clasp.Her ring sparkles. "Four years ago, when I got off the bus, I was carrying a suitcase in my hand and a denim jacket over my arm. Now, I have this one, mink." "It fits you well." "I'd trade it for that old denim jacket," she said, "if I could live my life over again. No, I wouldn't. Because, if I did it all over again, I'd do the same thing, wouldn't I? Oh, if It would be nice to be nineteen again and know everything I know now, and I'd have to be prostituted at fifteen, and I'd be dead by now. I'm just talking nonsense. I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize." "I want to get out of this life." "Then what? Back to Minnesota?" "It's Wisconsin. No, I'm not going back. There's nothing there worth going back to. Just because I quit doesn't mean I'm going back." "Ok." "I'd get myself into a lot of trouble that way. I reduced things to two options, and if A was bad, I'd take B. But that's not right. There are a lot of other letters in the alphabet." She could just teach philosophy. I said, "What do you need from me, Kim?" "Oh, right." I am waiting. "I have a pimp." "He won't let you go?" "I haven't told him yet. He might know, but I didn't say anything, and he didn't say anything, and—" Her whole upper body shook for a moment, and thin beads of sweat glistened on her upper lip. "You are afraid of him." "How did you guess that?" "He threatened you?" "No real threat." "What's the meaning?" "He never threatened me. But I felt threatened." "Have any other girls tried to quit?" "I don't know. I don't know much about other girls. He's very different from other pimps. At least not from the ones I know." They are all different.Do not believe to ask their girls. "Why is it different?" I asked her. "He's more graceful, gentler." certainly. "What's his name?" "Chance." "Last name or first name?" "That's what everyone calls him. I don't know if it's a first name or a last name. Maybe it's neither, maybe it's a nickname. People have different names on different occasions." "Is Kim your real name?" She nodded. "But I still have a stage name. Before Chance, I had a pimp named Duffy. Duffy Green, that's what he called himself, but he was also called Eugene Duffy. He also has a name that he uses sometimes, but I can’t remember it.” Thinking of the past, she smiled, “When he took me in, I was still young. Although he didn’t just pick me up from the bus Yes, but about the same." "Is he black?" "Duffy? Of course. Chance too. Duffy puts me out on the streets. Soliciting on Lexington Avenue. Sometimes it's too hot and we go across the river to Long Island." She closed her eyes for a moment.Then she opened her eyes and said, "I'm thinking a lot of things, how I felt on the street. My stage name is Bambi. On Long Island, I fucked my clients in their cars. They came from all over Long Island. In Lexington Don, we have a hotel available. I can't believe I did that, I lived like that. God, I was so young! I wasn't that innocent. I knew why I came to New York, but I was too Tender." "How long have you been soliciting customers on the street?" "It must have been five or six months. I wasn't very good at it. I was good looking, you know, I could act, but I wasn't smart enough on the street. I had a couple of anxiety attacks and couldn't work at all. Duffy gave I'm white-faced, but that only makes me feel worse." "White noodles?" "You know, drugs." "right." "Then he put me indoors, which was nicer. But he didn't like it because he couldn't control me that much. There was a big apartment near Columbus Circle, and I worked there, so I Like you go to work in an office. I worked indoors - I'm not sure - for about six months. That was it. Then, I did it with Chance." "how so?" "I was with Duffy at the time. We were in a bar. Not a pimp bar, it was a jazz club, and Chance came in and sat us at a table. The three of us chatted, and then they threw me out there .Talked for a while and Duffy came back alone and said I was following Chance. I thought he wanted me to fuck him. You know, it was like prostitution. I was very angry because I thought it was three people hanging out, Why put me to work. Look, I didn't see Chance as a client. Then he explained that from now on, I'm going to be Chance's girl. I feel like the car he just sold." "Did he do that? Sell you to Chance?" "I don't know what he did. But I went with Chance. Not bad, better than Duffy. He took me out of the house, put me next to a telephone, and now, uh, It's been three years." "You want me to help you out?" "Can you help me?" "I don't know. Maybe you can do it yourself. You never said anything to him? Hinted, or talked about, or something like that?" "I am afraid." "What are you afraid of?" - Stick School · E Book Group - "I'm afraid he'll kill me, or disfigure me, or something. Or, he'll talk me out of it." She leaned forward and placed her port-stained fingers on my wrist.The position was clearly deliberate, but effective.I inhale her perfume and feel her sensuality.I wasn't horny or thinking about her, but I couldn't remain indifferent to her sexual power. She said, "Can you help me, Matthew?" Then, quickly added, "You don't mind if I call you Matthew?" I just smiled and said, "No," I said, "I don't mind." "I make money, but I can't keep it. Actually, I don't make more than I do on the street. But I have some money." "Oh?" "I have a thousand dollars." I did not say anything.She opened the wallet, took out an ordinary white envelope, put a finger under the flap, tore open the envelope, took out a stack of banknotes from inside, and put it on the table. "You go to him for me," she said. I picked up the money and held it in my hand.I got a chance to be a mediator between the blonde whore and the black pimp.That's not a role I've ever aspired to.I want to shove the money back.But I've only been out of Roosevelt for nine or ten days, I owe money there, my rent is due at the beginning of the month, and I don't bother to keep track of how long I haven't sent anything to Anita and the kids.I have money in my wallet and more in the bank, but it doesn't add up to much, and Kim Duckinen's money is as good as anyone else's, and easier to earn, so what does it matter to me how she earns it? I light the banknotes.They were all used hundred-dollar bills, ten in total.I put five back on the table and returned the other five to her.Her eyes widened, and I thought she must be wearing contact lenses.No one has eyes of that color. I said, "Five hundred will be charged first, and the other five hundred will be collected later. If I can get you out of it." "A deal," she said, with a sudden grin. "You could have taken the whole thousand dollars." "Maybe I'll do better with motivation. Would you like some more coffee?" "If you want it, I will. I think I like sweet things better. Any dessert here?" "The pecan pie here is good. The cheesecake is also good." "I love pecan pie," she said. "I have a huge sweet tooth, but I never gain an ounce. Lucky?"