The man and the girl walked slowly, close together, past a dim stencil sign that said: Surprise Hotel. The man wore a purple suit, a Panama hat over his shiny, slicked-down hair. He walked splay-footed, soundlessly.
The girl wore a green hat and a short skirt and sheer stockings, four-and-a-half inch French heels. She smelled of Midnight Narcissus.
At the corner the man leaned close, said something in the girl's ear. She jerked away from him, giggled.
"You gotta buy liquor if you take me home, Smiler."
"Next time, baby. I'm fresh outa dough."
The girl's voice got hard. "Then I tells you goodbye in the next block, handsome."
"Like hell, baby," the man answered.
Read the rest of "Pickup on Noon Street."
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