Fran stood naked in front of the full length mirror in her bedroom. She did this every night after coming home from her waitressing job at The Tomb’s. Some nights she thought she was trim, but she never looked for very long.
She dropped a red t-shirt over her head that almost reached her knees. She was nearly 45, but she knew the dim light at the Tomb’s probably masked her age by ten years.
The doorbell rang. It was 2 a.m.
The lights in her apartment were low like the Tomb’s. Fran peered through the eye-hole. It was the well-dressed man she had waited on three hours ago.
“Hi,” she said in the doorway.
“I like red,” said the man walking past her. She hadn’t seen a ring on his finger, or any marks indicating he wore one. He was 40ish.
They didn’t say much to each other. She turned the lights on in the bedroom. After it was over he dressed quickly and simply said, “See you.”
Fran poured herself a whiskey and sat at the kitchen table.
“Did you get it?” she yelled.
A man with a beard walked into the kitchen. “Got it. My brother’s following him.”
“Whiskey?” she asked.
“Right—you’re working your way through college.”
“Something like that. I have to go—here’s the money.”
After the door closed Fran counted out $500. “Did you get it?” she yelled.
A bald man entered the room.
“Perfect. Got both of them—a busy night.” he said.