Free Dark Passions by Jeff Gelb Page A

drink and it doesn’t bother you.”
    â€œSo, you think you’re ...”
    â€œAn addict? Yeah. Addicted to Carmen. To the sex.” Jim nodded. “I even miss the fucking hallucinations! I can’t tell you how many times ... in the beginning ... I prayed she’d dump me so I could get a full night’s sleep. Shit, I was terrified I’d drill the wrong tooth, fit the wrong crown, but she took me over, man!” He elbowed his friend. “You know what that’s like... .”
    Ben snorted. “Okay, so you see where you’re at, that’s important. Find a twelve-step program for love addicts, sex addicts. They have them, you know.”
    â€œYeah, yeah. I know. Anything you can get hooked on, they got a twelve-step thing for it.” Jim motioned for the cocktail waitress. “But until then, you’ll help?”
    â€œYou have to help yourself, man.” Ben looked at his watch.
    â€œYeah, I hear you, Benny, but look ... you’re a detective. You can find Carmen for me.”
    Ben pulled his two hundred and sixty pounds up off the stool and slapped a ten-dollar bill down on the table. “You’re completely fucked, Jimbo. Find a shrink, get professional help. The one thing I’m not going to do is find the bitch who put you here.”
    Jim trembled. His eyes were the color of watery creamof-tomato soup. “Please. Her name’s Carmen Almanza. Twenty-six years old. Five feet ten with short, wavy black hair and chartreuse eyes. Born in Guatemala.”
    â€œYou need help, man, not her. ” He stared into Jim’s eyes and saw only desperation. “I got to go, buddy. I’ll call you.”
    Ben did his best to walk out without turning back. His friends had gone through the same anguish with him when he was a gutter drunk. When they turned their backs because Ben could only love the bottle, he hit bottom. It took years to win back the trust, to learn how to help other guys who were falling down. When Jim was ready, he’d walk the walk with him.
    Still, when he got into his car, he pulled out his notebook and jotted down the name and description Jim had given. Maybe this woman had a sheet; maybe she was a con and had left a trail. He’d check her out. At least that.
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    Esme braided her sister Yolanda’s thick, dark hair into one long plait as their middle sister, Carmen, stroked lotion over her shapely brown legs. Their party dresses for the evening were draped across the back of Esme’s sofa.
    â€œWhy am I nervous?” Yolanda, the eldest, patted gloss onto her full lips. “I always worry we’ll give ourselves away.”
    Carmen wiped the last of the lotion onto her forearms. “Once we’re there, we’re strangers. We’re practiced at this.”
    Esme laughed. “Yoli’s nervous we won’t find a ripe man.”
    Yolanda turned and swiped at her sister. “Don’t be ridiculous! We are each the light on the porch to the moths. They always flutter to us. We will find many.”
    Carmen stood. She was the tallest and thinnest of the sisters. She wore golden green contact lenses which, with her olive skin and wavy black hair, gave her the most exotic look. “You have a way with words, sister. It’s moths to a flame. ”
    Yolanda turned to Carmen. “What’s the difference? They’re drawn to us. We are the lights.” Yoli had the most naturally Latina appearance, with her black eyes and dark skin and voluptuous figure.
    â€œAnd we’ll all be lit up tonight!” Esme giggled. “I’m getting dressed. I promised Julian I’d get there early to help set up.” Esme, the lightest skinned, whose pale blue eyes belied her heritage, began brushing her long, redstreaked brown hair.
    Esme had promised her boss all the beautiful, smart, single women he wanted for his wealthy, intelligent, and nerdy software-designer friends. Julian warned