“Well, well, well. If it isn’t one of the M.Y.T.H. Inc. hotshots. What brings you to this neck of the woods, Massha? Slumming?”
I pulled up a chair so’s I could sit close to him. I mean, he hadn’t said no, and that’s about as close to an invitation as I usually get.
“I know you’re busy. Geek, so I’ll give it to ya straight. We’re cookin’ up a little deal and I’d like you to be a part of it. Interested?”
“Well, whaddaya know. After making me sell my club and putting me out on the street, the Great Skeeve has a deal for me. Isn’t that just ducky!”
Now I may not know casinos, but I know drunk when I see it. Seein’ as how it was just sunset, which for the Geek is like early morning, he was in pretty bad shape. The trouble was, I needed him sober. Normally I’d a taken him off someplace and let him sleep it off, but I was in a hurry. This called for drastic action.
Glancin’ around the place to be sure there were no witnesses, I leaned forward, wrapped my arms around his neck, and gave him the biggest, juiciest kiss I knew. One of the other things I know more than a little about is kissin’, and this particular sample lasted a fairly long time. When I felt him startin’ ta struggle for air, I let go and leaned back.
“Wha . . . Who . . . Massha!” he said, gaspin’ like a fish out of water. “What happened?”
I batted my eyelashes at him.
“I don’t think I catch your drift. Big Red.”
The Geek just sat there blinkin’ for a few seconds, one hand on the top of his head like he was afraid it was goin’ ta come off.