Page 79 of Dick

“I’ve got her, Joe,” mustache said. He placed his hand against my shoulder. “Come with me, Lady.”

“Am I under arrest?”

He tugged me toward the car. “I said come with me.”

I shot him a shitty drunken glare. “I asked you a question.”

“You’re being detained. Get in the car.”

Detained.

Sounds official.

He pushed me against the car. “I’m going to pat you down, it’s policy.”

“Enjoy yourself,” I said in a sarcastic tone.

He frisked me. “No I.D. No purse, no anything?”

“I travel light.”

“What were you doing in the club?”

I saw no reason to lie, and from what Dick said, if everything went our way – which it did – I could tell them the truth.

I turned around. The top of his mustache crept into his mouth. My stomach convulsed. “I was buying a diamond.”

He pulled against it with his bottom lip. “Were you, now?”

I looked away. “I was trying.”

He cleared his throat. “Why’d you come outside?”

I focused on cop number two. He looked like a game show host. “I was planning on barfing.”

“What stopped you?”

I turned to face mustache. “From?”

“Barfing?”

“I saw the guy in the Ferrari. I thought he left earlier. You know, when he left. When I saw him, I just got in his car. He told me to get out, and I told him I wanted to suck him off. I tried to suck his cock, and he tossed me out in front of the horses.”

“Looked like you had a purse when you got in the car. Where’s your purse?”

I looked away. I’d reached my mustache quota for the month. “I’m drunk as fuck. I don’t know where my ass is right now, let alone my purse.”

He laughed. “So you were buying a diamond, decided to barf, and hopped in a car to suck a guy off. Was he paying you for that blowjob?”

“I’m not a whore, Asshole.”

“Givin’ ‘em away, huh?”

“He was a good dancer.” I shrugged. “I thought maybe…”

“Where’s the diamond?”

I tossed my head toward the supper club. “Last I saw it; it was down there.”