The Red Flowers Escort Agency had offices. I wandered past them casually, but didn’t linger – I knew she could sense me, and that even if I used a “who me” field she could probably sense the field itself.

Maybe part of me wanted her to know I was on to her, even if it might spook her. One of the government people was, indeed, already working on the client list.
They were ahead of me. After she’d proved to be a killer, though, I wanted to send her home.

A young woman came out. I sniffed, slightly. Not a demon…but she had the whiff, the stench about her. Maybe she’d sold her soul for beauty or extended youth.

Maybe. She glanced at me, and our eyes met.

I decided she was still not as attractive as some of the models I worked with. But maybe I was biased by my knowledge that her appearance was even less natural than that of somebody who had had tons of plastic surgery.

It was a weighing, competitive look. Oh, who is she. Hrm. She’s good looking.

Competitive. Divided. I smiled at her in return, promising something more cooperative, and perhaps something more.

She ducked her head and headed into the taxi.

“Routed,” said a voice from behind me.

I glanced to see who it was. A strange man, and I shifted a bit away from him. As any woman would.

He glanced at the building. “Routed by somebody who if I’m reading her right is not a hoe.”

I grimaced. “I’m not, but I know some pretty nice hoes, so…”

He laughed. “I’m Larry.” He offered a hand, which I shook.

“Jane.”

He studied me. “Model?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“Good luck with that. From what I hear it’s a lot more work than people think.”

I was starting to wonder who he was. I was about to tell him I had a girlfriend when he slipped a business card into my hand, turned and walked away.

I looked at it. It just had a name and a number on it. I tossed it in the nearest trash can.

I didn’t know for sure that he was a pimp, but he’d been kind of acting like he might be one. In any case, I wasn’t calling somebody who wasn’t admitting to what he really did. I figured I might regret it, but…

I was more sure I’d regret staying in touch.