Kiss the Girl (18 page)

“You knew that was going to happen.”  She got to her feet, brushing at the frozen slime coating her jeans.  A Big Gulp lid and straw had somehow adhered to her butt.  She flicked it off. Erik picked at the leaves in her hair.  She slapped at him again and he tucked his hands into his pockets with a shrug. 

“I certainly did not.”

She treated him to a nice, long look. 

“I figured she’d bolt.  I didn’t figure she’d try to run you over.”

“Why would she bolt?”

“Funny story there.”  Nixie glared at him and he hurried to continue.  “While Mattie doesn’t get drunk, she does get stoned.  And when she’s high, she’s paranoid and a little, um, violent.”

“A
little
violent?”  Nixie gaped at him.  “She tried to run me over with her truck!”

“Well, you did threaten to question her.  She probably thought we were the cops.  And to be fair, an El Camino is really only half a truck.”  She gave him a shot to the shoulder and Erik winced.  “Nice arm.  You could maybe get into the batting line up, too.”

“I am
not
playing softball for your stupid league.”  Nixie kicked her way free of the knee-high trash heap, and stomped toward the front gate. 

“Up to you, of course.”  He swished the gate open in time for her to blaze through.  “What now?”

“What do you mean, what now?  Let’s hit the next house.”

“You don’t want to go home to change?”

“And let you ditch me while I’m in the shower?  I don’t think so, ace.  I’m good to go.”  She tucked a slimy lock of hair behind her ear and folded her arms over her chest.  “The smell will wear off in a few minutes, I’m sure.  And if it doesn’t, I’m going to smear myself all over your passenger seat on the way home.”

Erik nodded grimly.  “Right.”

“Look on the bright side. Who would believe I’m Nixie Leighton-Brace now?”  She looked around the deserted street.  “Not that there’s a pack of roving tabloid reporters hanging around or anything.  Guess
I’m not quite the catalyst for disastrous publicity
you thought.”

“It’s early yet.  We’ll see what happens when the clinic
opens this afternoon
.”

“Fine.  So we have the next four hours to find Mary Jane in relative peace and quiet.  Let’s get busy.  Who’s next on the to-be-questioned list?”

Erik jerked his head toward a house down the street, crouching in the squat shadow of The Wash.  “Daryl Johnson. 
He’s
the reason McDonald’s puts pictures instead of words on their cash registers.  Flips burgers, lives with his mom, buys beer for the under aged.  Smokes a lot of dope.  Loves the ladies, thinks they love him back.  If he saw anything, he’ll tell us.”

“Why didn’t we start with him?”

“Oh, I think you’ll see for yourself.”

CHAPTER
TEN

Erik fell in behind Nixie as she marched down the ancient concrete toward Daryl Johnson’s house.  Rotten leaves and litter fluttered in her wake like she was a one-woman ticker tape parade.  She didn’t have Mary Jane’s curves, it was true.  But there was a very pleasing swing to what ass she did have.  He had to admit it was a nice view.

There was a half-chewed stick of beef jerky dangling from one curl and he smiled into his collar.  Damn, he liked this girl.  He didn’t know a single woman who would slap at her jeans and declare herself good to go after a head-first dive into a trash heap.  The women he generally dated would be in tears by now, both the ones he picked out and the ones his mother threw at him.  This girl was something else.  He’d miss her when she went back to being Nixie Leighton-Brace.

His smile died. 
God
, what was he thinking?  He wouldn’t miss her. 
Maybe the women he dated didn’t have quite her...panache, but at least they
weren’t tabloid bait.  And they certainly
did
n’t intimate that he had game-show-host teeth or bad people skills.  Caps, indeed.  He sucked on his perfectly natural teeth and frowned at Nixie’s back. 

St
ill, he couldn’t deny she was
interesting company.  He’d go to his grave savoring the sight of her rising up from the leaves like some white-trash version of her namesake, pissed and righteous.  Unfortunately, he’d probably go to bed tonight savoring the sight of her elegant hands running over the curves of her own butt, searching for injury while Erik’s mind made a beeline for the gutter.  He sighed.  And that was the downside to being a normal man with two eyes and a healthy sexual appetite.  But it didn’t mean anything.  As soon as he had
the clinic back on solid financial footing
, he could
forget Nixie Leighton-Brace
and
her world-class backside
. 

He stopped on the sidewalk and
watched Nixie stare
at Daryl Johnson’s house.  It was neater than most--no graffiti and a newer fence.  Still, it sidled up to the side of the Wash like a
submissive
dog approaching the alpha.  Which was appropriate when Erik considered Daryl’s relationship with the Dog crew.

Nixie rattled the gate.  No
snarling hounds
materialized.  She opened the gate and waved Erik through.  “You first.”

“You’re sure you don’t want to wait in the car?”

“I’m sure.”

“Did I mention that Daryl likes the ladies?”

“Yep.  And I’m pretty sure that, given my current condition, he’s not going to get out of hand.”

Erik shook his head.  “Daryl doesn’t mind dirty.  I think he might actually like dirty.”

Nixie stepped closer.  “The aroma is my second line of defense.”

Erik’s nose twitched.  “Right.  Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

She waved him through the gate and trailed him to the front door.  Not that he could see her, but she had a point about the aroma.  It was pretty stiff.  He knocked on the door.  Nothing.  He knocked again.

Something crashed inside the house, followed by some cursing, a heart-felt moan and a little more crashing.  The door opened a sliver and one sleepy eye appeared. 

“What the fuck, homes?”

“Hey, Daryl,” Erik said, nudging Nixie a little farther to his left.  “I’m looking for a woman
--”

“
Sheee
-it, homes, she yours?”  The eye opened fully.  “Damn, she bounced on me
all
night.  Fucking ride ‘
em
cowgirl, you know what I’m saying?  Lucky ass motherfucker.”  The door opened wider and Daryl beamed at Erik, in perfect charity with the universe for having created a woman who would fuck his brains out, even if she wa
s just on loan from the guy
at the door.

Erik lifted his eyebrows.  “Unless she’s about this tall
--”
he waved a hand at
shoulder-height “--
blonde
, blue-eyed and qualified to crack your chest, I don’t think so.”

Daryl’s smile didn’t falter.  He just stood there, a chubby dimwit in droopy boxers and sweat socks.  “Damn, G, she cracked
everything
last night, you know what I mean?  But she wasn’t no
blonde
.  You looking for a white bitch?”

“Yeah,” Erik said.  “You seen one lately?”

“Shit,
dawg
.  I seen lots of white bitches.  They’re all
this
ain’t
no Diet Coke!
and
I asked for the dressing on the side!
”  He turned from the door and treated them both to a couple inches of hairy ass cleavage.  Nixie made some kind of strangled noise in the back of her throat as Daryl ambled to the ancient floral-print couch.

Erik gave Nixie another little nudge toward the side of the porch and whispered, “Stay here.”

“Not on your life,” she whispered back.  “I want to meet the cowgirl.  Do you think she’s still in there?”

“I need a smoke,” Daryl said.  Nixie poked at Erik and made get-going eyes at him until he sighed and followed Daryl into the house, Nixie at his heels.

“Well, damn, bro.  There’s your white girl right there!”  Daryl looked up from the joint he was rolling and gave Nixie a big smile.  “’Sup, home girl.”  He reached up the leg of his boxers and produced a flabby, wrinkled dick.  “You want a taste of
ol
’ D, too?  I got enough to go around.”

Erik sighed.  He’d tried to warn her.

“Oh, wow,” Nixie said.  She waved a hand through the air.  “That’s...flattering, really, but--”  Daryl waited, jiggled his equipment.  Erik watched the emotions race across Nixie’s mobile face.  She was going to laugh any minute now, and the last thing they needed was to wound Daryl’s pride.  Especially when he was holding it in his hand.  Erik searched for anything that might change the subject.

“Your mom lets you smoke in the house?” Erik asked, nodding toward the half-rolled joint.

Daryl tucked hi
s
dick
back into his shorts
.  “No, I
ain’t
allowed to light up in here.  But it
ain’t
no thing. 
Mama
’s at church all
morning and I got me a B
ounce blower.”

“A bounce blower?”  Nixie edged closer, curiosity clearly winning out over prudence.  You’d think she
wanted
to get flashed again.  “What’s that?”

Daryl held up a paper towel tube.  “It’s stuffed with Bounce.  You know, like from the dryer?  You suck in the weed
--”
  He demonstrated, taking an enormous hit from the joint.  “Then you blow it through the tube,” he croaked.  He lifted the tube to his mouth and exhaled a mighty stream of smoke into the end.  The smell of extremely high laundry filled the room. 

Erik sighed
but Nixie
pressed her hands against her chest and treated Erik to a brilliant smile, the kind that sold magazines by the stack.  She was filthy, leaves still tucked into those coppery curls of hers, dirt caked on both knees, but when she looked at Erik, her face was pure
delight
. 

This was why she was Nixie Leighton-Brace, he thought suddenly.  This was why people ran for their checkbooks every time she smiled.  Nixie didn’t care about race or class or intellect.  You could plop her down with anybody on the planet and within minutes, she would be charmed
with them about something.  Here was a man who’d just reached up his shorts and flopped out his penis for her admiration, and two minutes later, Nixie was laughing with him. 

She looked up and caught Erik’s eye, a personal invitation to join her, to share the joke, to be with her in the moment.  Erik smiled back, and her approval spilled over him like warm honey.  Daryl squinted at her through the smoke.

“Dang, do I know you?” he asked Nixie.

Erik watched her clamp down on that famous smile.  “Could be.  It’s a small world.”

“You ever come into the Chow
D
own?  On Berkley?”

“Is that where you work?” Nixie asked.

“Yeah.  You come on in, I’ll fix you up with some free grub.”  He stared at her, grinning foolishly.  Erik imagined she got that quite a lot.  Still, she grinned back with every sign of genuine pleasure.