The expensive phone bounced off the cushion and hit the hardwood floor beside the wicker furniture. She did not so much as glance at the abused cell,...instead swinging around slowly to face him, fixing him with one of her doe-eyed, sultry stares. "So," She began walking toward him as though she were the only thing that existed in the universe, her eyes never leaving his. "You're the guy who charges ten thousand dollars for a massage..." She paused at the opposite end of the only other piece. Doesn’t help entirely, but makes me less strange-looking. Khaki trench coat, pants, hoodie, scarf, gloves… pass for homeless if need be. Arrogance demanded I believe myself hidden. Arrogance, second mistake of the day. Spent four hours in back of freezing cab while sun passed overhead. First greeting me from the left, then by afternoon, warming up my right. Eyes fixed on street, waiting. Seems like I never get around the waiting. Crime novels have hero sitting with cup of coffee in stylish. More

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