Kiss of Noir by Clara Nipper

Author:Clara Nipper [Nipper, Clara]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Suspense
ISBN: 9781602821613
Google: Y4eXQAAACAAJ
Amazon: 1602821615
Publisher: Bella Distribution
Published: 2010-08-17T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

I stood at the pawn window, bored. I was used to having an all-consuming sports career and living an urban pace, not having slow days of leisure handing money for objects to hard luckers and being hidden away in a small backwater town.

“Take it easy,” Cleo rasped from the card table. It was an admonishment he commanded of me several times a day.

“I don’t want to,” I answered. “I want something to be difficult.” I watched the traffic at Tassie Pie’s. A car pulled in among the crowded lot. It had a bumper sticker that read SUPERVISE THIS! I smiled. Then I saw a woman come out of the restaurant wearing painfully short denim cutoffs. Her ample thighs jiggled. My mouth watered. I looked at the woman’s crotch where her vulva was clearly split wide by the tight seam of her shorts.

“Mmm, nice camel toe, baby,” I muttered to the glass and grinned.

“My man needs some new panties!” Drew exclaimed.

I sighed and turned from the window. I glanced, irritated, at the pawn’s browsers, men who were always on the hunt for an amazing bargain but never bought much. They spent hours curled over guns or stereos or tools, murmuring approval but really just using the pawn to congregate and escape wives.

“You got that right, Drew.” I punched him on the shoulder, hoping to jostle some action out of him.

“Say, say, man, siddown.” Drew brushed me away. He had a bag at his feet that he kept checking. Cleo was doing a crossword and smoking. He looked just right with his silver hair and dark freckles on his walnut skin.

“Anybody ever tell you how much you look like Ellis?” I asked, trying to provoke Cleo.

He looked up and squinted at me. “Anybody ever say the same thing to you?” He returned to his crossword. I glanced at the words he had filled in: tappan, re, gnu, pettifog.

“Drew, what do you say we go cruising?” I asked.

“My man, you’re on the job.”

“Well, what do you do when you’re bored stiff?”

“Knit.”

“What?” I waited for the joke.

Cleo smiled at his puzzle, unconcerned.

“Yeah, man, I knit. You got a problem?” Drew bent down and finally removed the contents of his bag and it was indeed a ball of yarn, needles, and a square of knitting. I was too shocked to ridicule and just watched as Drew arranged his supplies and began. “I’m from Haiti,” Drew said softly as if that explained it. “I was raised by my grandmother. I was the only child and she knitted and I had to help her. So I picked it up. You should try it.”

“I don’t believe it,” I said.

“Knitted a whole blanket for me last Christmas,” Cleo said. “Wasn’t that felted merino you used?”

Tickled, Drew said, “Sho ’nuff. See, this here is chunky wool. I like it. It’s got heft but it’s so warm, you’ll feel like you’re sitting on the sun.” Drew rummaged in his bag. “My favorite is, oh, I can’t pick. I love to work with slub and vrille, but angora is so soft.

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