Free Finders Keepers by Sean Costello

me.”
    Numbly realizing what kind of animal she’d invited into her life, the widow Abigail lowered her head into Raybould’s lap and took him in her mouth. She’d had plenty of practice with her husband and his friends.
    “Jesus,” Raybould said, “I love my work.”
    * * *
    This time Marty came into the game with a strategy. He started her off with the coke—nothing put a happy in Earlene’s ass like cocaine, especially when those lovely white lines made the trip to her nose through a rolled up C-note—then gave her the espresso machine. The girl nearly freaked. After that he coaxed her into a kind of prefuck party game, a hybrid of strip poker and spin the bottle—spin the gift—the only rule being that whoever was closest to the bow when the box stopped spinning lost an item of clothing. And by nature, Earlene dressed light. He let her rip through about a third of the goodies—the rest he kept locked in the van, planning to dole it out a little at a time—but there was no way he could keep her out of the dope. Earlene loved her nose candy and she knew exactly how much he’d scored. He’d blown that carrot going in. And at the rate she was going, he’d be cleaned out before sunrise.
    No problem , Marty thought. Plenty more where that came from.
    The final round took place in the bedroom, Earlene so toasted on coke and white wine Marty figured there was no way he could miss. But with Earlene, you never could tell.
    “You got protection?”
    “What?”
    “Rubbers. Protection.”
    “Aw, come on, Earlene, I hate ’em. It’s like wearin’ a raincoat in the shower.”
    Earlene snaked a hand under her pillow and came up with a cherry-flavored Trojan, ribbed for pleasure. She tossed it at him and it stuck to his chest. Marty peeled it off like it was a leech. “Put a hat on it, Small,” she said, “or tell your story walking.”
    Marty grumbled but obeyed. And at last, Earlene was his.
    He went at the task with real heart, the coke conspiring with the sensation-dulling rubber to turn him into a tireless stud. And when he finally came, the lights shivered on the miniature Christmas tree that stood on the bedside table.
    “Jeez,” Earlene said as Marty rolled off her, breathing hard. “That was great.” She got up and went into the can, not bothering to shut the door. Marty could hear her tinkling in there.
    “You off for a while now?” he said, testing the water. “Holidays and all?”
    Earlene flushed the john, raising her voice to say, “I’m on at the club tomorrow night. And I got some appointments, next few days.” She was brushing her teeth now, the water in the sink running full blast.
    Marty said, “What would it take for you to call in sick and cancel the appointments?”
    Earlene appeared in the doorway, still nude and so cool about it, leaning against the jamb with that trimmed bush staring straight at him, a red toothbrush in her hand, toothpaste foam on her lips. She flashed him a smart-ass grin.
    “More than you can afford, Small.”
    “Try me.” He wished she’d call him by his first name.
    “Five hundred a day, cash money.”
    Marty did the math in his head. It took a minute. He said, “Four days, okay? Plus blow, plus Christmas every day for four days, plus a partridge in pair of BVDs.”
    That got a laugh out of her.
    Call me Marty , Marty thought, willing it.
    Smiling, shaking her head, Earlene said, “I don’t mind the easy money, Marty, if that’s how you wanna spend it.”
    Marty grinned and flipped back the covers. “Look who’s awake already.”
    Feeling playful, Earlene climbed aboard.
    Later, while she slept, Marty lit a smoke and leaned against the headboard, feeling like the luckiest man alive. Had he any idea what was tucked inside the stolen wallet in his jeans, he might have realized just how close to the truth this was.
    When his smoke was done he switched off the lamp and snuggled into Earlene’s back, one arm around her waist, breathing her scent. He