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“By all means, said Jack, waving genially at the empty chairs.
The woman’s nose dominated her face, but otherwise she was pretty, for a prostitute. She chose the chair beside him, not accidentally bumping his knee as she sat down. “In town long?” she asked.
“I arrived this afternoon.”
She pulled a drag on her cigarette and exhaled, adding to the haze in the room as she looked him over. “Buy me a drink, why don’t you,” she said eventually. “I’m dry and I’d like to be wet.”
Jack pressed the large button in the middle of that table, which began to flash.
“Those don’t work,” said the prostitute (Jack was sure she was a prostitute, now). “You’ll have to flag someone.”
Jack knew she was manipulating him, but he had an end in sight, so he looked around, finding a waiter two tables over and catching his eye. He turned back to the prostitute. “What should I call you?”
“Call me Candy.”
“What’ll you have, Candy?”
“You’re not going to tell me your name?”
Jack laughed. “Call me John,” he said. “The waiter is coming over, what do you want to drink?”
“You order for me.”
“A dirty martini for the lady, and I’ll have another pint of the house lager,” Jack told the waiter.
“I don’t think that’s really your name,” Candy said, once the waiter had left. “Tell me your name.”
Jack put on a mock-offended face. “It is absolutely my name. It is as much my name as Candy is yours.”
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