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The way she said it would have made Kevin Costner die of shame. |
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"Personal security specialist." |
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The woman stared at her soft green pumps and then up at his face. Her eyes matched the shoes. "May I come in? I have a proposition for you." |
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Cyrus opened the front door and stood back as she walked into his apartment with her head tucked between her shoulders, and he wondered what she had expected, a scene from Animal House? |
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The center of his living room was dominated by a huge Persian rug topped with a black leather sofa, a gray cord recliner and an off-brand nineteen-inch color TV set. On either side of the front windows were hanging plants and a pair of five-foot stereo speakers. To the right was a small kitchen with pots and pans hung in geometric rows from hooks in the wall, and to the left, across the room, was the door to the bedroom and bath. |
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The woman walked over and looked at her reflection in the top of the stove. |
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Cyrus went to the refrigerator and took out two cans of soda. |
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While he played the gracious host, she waltzed slowly around the living room, running her fingers over the books and tennis trophies that lined the homemade shelves on the wall and peering at the faded photographs of a short kid with light brown hair and aquamarine eyes. On another shelf was a more recent picture of Cyrus wearing a short white robe and black sash. On the top shelf were more trophies, this time topped with little gold statues holding pistols in impossibly steady hands. |
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Cyrus stepped into the bedroom and a moment later the deep sensual moan of Kenny G's sax filtered out of the speak- |
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