Free Life Support by Tess Gerritsen Page B

out there.
    Now she really was sick, and she couldn't remember when she'd made the mistake.
    Romy would blame her.
    Rising from the bed, she felt light-headed. It was the hunger. These days she was always hungry, even when she felt nauseated. As she dressed, she munched on some more Fritos. The salt tasted good. She could have devoured handfuls, but there were only a few chips left. She tore the bag open and licked the crumbs, then saw herself in the mirror, her lips crusted with salt, and she was so disgusted by the image she tossed the bag into the rubbish and left her room.
    It was only one-fifteen, and there was no action coming down yet. She saw Sophie up the street, leaning in a doorway as she chugged from a Pepsi can. Sophie was all butt and no brains. Determined to ignore her, Molly walked right past, her eyes focused straight ahead.
    "If it isn't Miss Titless," said Sophie.
    "Bigger the tits, smaller the brain."
    "Then girl, you must have one hell of a big brain."
    Molly kept walking, quickening her pace to escape Sophie's whinnying laughter. She didn't stop walking until she'd reached the phone booth two blocks away. She searched the tattered copy of the Yellow Pages, then slipped a quarter into the slot and dialed.
    A voice answered, "Abortion Counseling."
    "I need to talk to someone," said Molly. "I'm pregnant."
    A black car glided to a stop at the curb. Romy got into the backseat and shut the door.
    The driver didn't turn to look at him, he never did. Most of the time Romy found himself staring at the back of the man's head, a narrow head with white-blond hair. You didn't see that color of hair very often, not on a guy. Romy wondered if the bitches went for it. But the way he figured it, bitches didn't really care if you had any hair on your head, as long as you had money in your wallet.
    Romy's wallet was feeling pretty thin these days.
    He looked around at the car, admiring it as he always did, yet resentful of the fact the guy in the driver's seat was the man on top in more ways than one. Didn't need to know the man's name or what he did, you could smell his superiority like you could smell the fact these seats were leather. To a guy like him, Romulus Bell was just a scrap of litter that had blown into the car and would soon be ejected. Not worth a backward glance.
    Romy looked at the man's exposed neck and thought how easy it'd be to turn the tables. If he wanted to. That made him feel better.
    "You have something to tell me?" the driver said.
    "Yeah. I got another one knocked up."
    "Are you certain?"
    "Hey, I know my girls, inside and out. I know it before they do. I been right every other time, haven't I?"
    "So you have."
    "What about the money? I'm supposed to get my money."
    "There's a problem."
    "What problem?"
    The driver reached up and adjusted the rearview mirror. "Annie Parini didn't show up for her appointment this morning."
    Romy stiffened, his hand gripping the seat in front of him. "What?"
    "I couldn't find her. She wasn't waiting on the Common as we agreed."
    "She was there. I walked her there myself."
    "Then she must have left before I arrived."
    The stupid bitch, he thought. How could you keep a business , l going when the bitches were always going against him, always screwing things up? Bitches had no brains. And now they were making him look bad.
    "Where is Annie Parini, Mr. Bell?"
    "I'll find her."
    "Do it soon. We can't let her go more than another month." The man waved his hand. "You can get out of the car now."
    "What about my money?"
    "There's no payment today."
    "But I told you, I got another one knocked up."
    "This time we want delivery first. The last week of October. And don't lose the merchandise. Now get out, Mr. Bell."
    "I need�"
    "Get outX Romy climbed out and slammed the door. At once the car drove away, leaving him staring after it in fury.
    He began to walk up Tremont Street, his agitation mounting with every step. He knew where Annie Parini hung out, he knew he could find