Free Sharky's Machine by William Diehl Page B

he had made love to two, sometimes three women at a time. None of them could match her beauty, her intelligence, or her incredible talents.
    He laughed out loud.
    ‘Is something funny?
    ‘Just a thought,’ he said.
    ‘I’ll give you ten dollars for it.’
    He laughed harder. ‘What extravagance! It is not worth more than a penny.’
    She reached into her purse, took out a penny, and tossed it into his lap.
    ‘There.’
    ‘All right. I was thinking, I have worked hard all my life; I have built corporations on every continent. I have made millions and millions of dollars, created cartels. I have done all this and I was thinking, I could have become just as rich running a whorehouse with you in Hong Kong.’
    She threw her head back and laughed until small tears appeared at the corners of her eyes. She walked close to him, her perfume flirting with his nose. He wanted to reach out, to touch her, but he did not rush things. She touched his cheek.
    ‘Victor, you are the most fascinating man I have ever met,’ she said warmly.
    ‘And the most generous?’ he asked.
    ‘Well,’ she said, ‘there was this gentleman from Kuwait...’ Victor DeLaroza scowled.
    ‘He was extremely grateful ...‘
    The scowl deepened. ‘Oh?’
    ‘But not nearly as much fun as you are.’
    ‘Thank you.’
    ‘You’re welcome.’
    ‘Did he ever take you to Paris for the weekend? Shopping?’
    ‘No, he never did that.’
    ‘And did he ever arrange for the most famous couturiers in the world to open their salons especially for you?’
    ‘No, he never did that either.’
    ‘Did he ever take you sailing on a Chinese junk?’
    She was laughing again. She shook her head. ‘Unh unh.’ DeLaroza leaned back and grinned. ‘You see, gratitude has its limitations.’
    ‘My gratitude to you has none,’ she said and reaching down, unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, slipped her hands inside, and caressed his chest, her fingers pinching his nipples. He closed his eyes, reached out to run his fingers along her satin-sheathed thigh, but it was gone. She had already moved away, as elusive as a dragonfly. She crossed to the windows and looked back at him.
    ‘And now you make toys,’ she said.
    ‘You always say the word toys with a very patronizing attitude,’ DeLaroza said. ‘I do not just make toys. I create masterpieces. Do you know I once made a tiny Rolls- Royce, it was a foot long, a perfect replica. The wheels moved, the pistons worked, the engine worked, even the radio worked. It was exact to the most infinitesimal detail.
    The gentleman I made it for sat on the floor in this office and clapped his hands together like a child when hG came to get it. It cost twelve thousand dollars, a fourth of what the real thing costs. He paid for it in cash.’
    She shrugged. ‘Big deal,’ she said.
    He mimicked her. ‘Big deal. That is all you have to say, “Big deal”? It was a very big deal to him. And to me. Besides, everyone loves a toymaker. It carries with it a unique kind of respect. Who can fault a man who spends his life making children happy?’
    The question hung in the air. Domino did not hear it. She was looking at the ground, twenty storeys below, at two boys rough-housing in the plaza, their anus wrapped around each other as they battled back and forth. She shuddered again.
    ‘Is something wrong?’ DeLaroza asked.
    ‘It’s nothing. I just remembered something. It’s really quite silly.’
    ‘It could not be that silly, to have such an effect on you.’
    ‘You remember the last time I was here? Halloween night?’
    A small fear crept into his chest.
    ‘Of course. I never forget one of your visits.’
    ‘As I was leaving, these two men were on the other side of the plaza. T saw them from inside the building. One was very drunk. He was so. . . so limp.. . and the other one was trying to get him in the car. ..‘
    DeLaroza was no longer listening. The fear grew and crept deeper into his chest. He pressed his knuckles