The door flew open. Susan's immediate impression of Snake (or Crow) caused her natural wariness to throttle back a bit--this wasn't someone who found women physically threatening. His movements were casual. He didn't bother to put himself on guard. He probably believed that his size gave him any advantage over a woman he might need.

Mindy tested a trembling smile. Obviously, Susan would have to get rid of her as soon as possible. She'd bought into Snake's theater. And she couldn't act worth a damn.

"Hey Snake,"

Mindy's paramour grunted at her with piggy indifference (been there, done that), and frankly estimated Susan as if she were a slab of fresh meat. A funky mix comprised of stale tobacco, skunky weed, and a musky unidentified understink offended Susan's nostrils. Snake and Crow's cleaning woman must have had the month off.

"You must be Snake," said Susan.

He looked at her. Snake's eyes were nominally hazel and possessed a shallowness she'd seen before--brutality and covetousness created such eyes. Hundreds of minor criminal acts and criminal stupidities created eyes like these. Lemur's eyes.

He said nothing, looming. The strong silent type. Snake had the fat cartoon chest, simian arms, and budding acne of a steroidal bodybuilder. His long wavy hair was carefully moussed. It was good to see. Vanity is a lever to move the vain.

Susan ignored Snake's corny message of jailhouse menace. Who'd this guy think he was--Don Corlione? He'd probably wet his pants when the handcuffs went on. Susan mentally marked him: You're mine.

"Mindy's told me about you. I'm flattered to meet you. I've never met a really big player before."

Susan smiled at Snake up and under, all girly.

You're mine.

He fell for it. Snake was not, after all, a complicated animal--just a violent and narcissistic one. He smiled a brownish smile in that appeasing, doggish way men have when the fur of their ego is stroked in the right direction--but he quickly recovered. He was the man, after all, and a man has to keep the bitches under control.

"Don't waste my time. Did you bring the money?"

"Yeah. Nine hundred for an ounce. Mindy told me."

"It's a thousand. I don't know you. Nine hundred for the next one after I decide you're for real." Tough talk.

"Mindy, why don't you wait for me in the car? Snake and I need to talk a little business. That okay with you, Snake?"

He nodded. Good. Get Mindy out of the picture. She'd been told to walk around the corner to the van where Juba and Juan were monitoring the buy.

Now Susan was alone.

"You mind if I sit down?" she asked. "I've been on my feet all day. I waitress at the Pancake Palace."

"Before you sit down, you wanna see my snake?"

She hoped he wasn't being euphemistic.

"Sure, I guess."

He gestured for her to follow. In what turned out to be Snake's revolting bedroom, redolent with the musky stink she'd noticed earlier, he pointed to a giant glass tank that held an enormous serpent.

"Burmese python. I raised him from a baby. Fed him pinkies. He's a twelve-footer now."

Susan examined the snake with what she hoped was appropriate appreciation. Susan was indifferent to snakes, but preferred to be on less than intimate terms with them.

"What are pinkies?"

"Frozen baby mice. You wanna hold him?"

"No thanks. I'll just look at him. He's a beauty. Really."

Susan's cell phone purred.

"Just a sec," she said.

"Mindy's back in the van," said Juba. "Everything's copacetic here. You okay?"

"I'm fine, Mom. Don't worry--I'll stop at the store on my way home and pick up your adult diapers."

"Just don't go petting any snakes," said Juba.

"That's not really something I had in mind."

"Scaly ones or furry ones."

"I won't forget."

"Well, we'll be here."

"That's certainly a relief."

"Bye, sweetcakes. We think you're hot."

"Bye." She closed the phone. "My mom," she said by way of explanation.

"Hey, Mindy was right--you're not ugly."

Susan flinched at the unexpected voice behind her. Obviously this was Crow--a cookie-cutter version of his beefcake brother, distinguishable by his loup-garrou's grin, which Susan could see was habitual.

"Mindy was right. You boys sure are a pair."

Snake wasn't all that pleased to see his brother. He'd dibs'd this one.

"Let's get our business finished, okay? We can all talk some other time."

"Fine with me. You got the ounce?"

"Come on out to the living room."

When he produced it, Susan looked the chunky, golf-ball-sized bindle over carefully. Chunky and crystalline--obviously very pure.

"You wanna sample it?"

"I never mix business with pleasure, boys. Where I come from, we use one of these."

She showed them a tiny bottle of bleach.

"That's what professionals do. And I'm a professional. I know you guys are too."

Snake and Crow nodded. They were professionals.

Susan took a tiny sample of the powder and dropped it into the bleach.

"See these streaks on the side of the glass? It shows that this stuff is really pure, really great. Yeah, I'm buying. And I'll buy more from you later if you've got more of the same."

She gave them the ten hundreds.

"Think we can do business?"

"Sure thing," said Snake. He gave her the same estimating look he'd given her earlier. "Y'know, after you get to know me better, maybe you might change your mind about mixing business and pleasure."

Not hardly.

"Could be. Anything can happen."

"How soon you want more?"

She owned him.

"I'll call. Can I get your number?"

She left without incident, even though Crow patted her ass on the way out--which could have cost him his arm under other circumstances, and could have created a mess if he'd touched the .380 in her belt instead. Maybe she'd laid the charm on a little thick.

Juan and Juba had sequestered Mindy in the back of the van.

"Donald and Ronald Ashcraft," said Juan.

"Donald and Ronald? Are you kidding?"

"Snake's Donald. Crow's Ronald. I kid you not."

"Man oh man. If it's nature or nurture, I guess Nature wins. Twin dope dealers...." said Juba.

"Or nurture."

"Yeah."

"Let's dump Mindy off at the jail, okay?" said Susan. "I've seen about enough of her to last me a while. Let's make sure they know she doesn't get any phone calls for the forseeable future. I don't trust her not to rat us off. She's not a deep thinker."

After they dropped Mindy off, Susan wanted to go home and take four showers.