Rackman looked at his watch. “Mind if I hang out in here.”
“I don’t give a shit,” Jenkins said, “as long as you keep your mouth shut.”
Rackman sat on one of the chairs near Dorothy Owens, who was wearing tan slacks and a dark brown jacket. Rackman had on his gray slacks and blue blazer combination with a white shirt and no necktie. He had the copy of the New York Review of Sex that had the ad in it, and read the review of a hot movie playing on Forty-ninth Street. Dorothy craned her neck to see over his shoulder, so he angled the page toward her. It showed a photograph of two women going down on a guy, and she made a face. Rackman laughed.
Jenkins looked up. “What are you laughing at?”
“Nothing.”
“I think you like that paper.”
“It really isn’t that bad.”
The phone rang again. The three of them looked at it. Olivero and Dancy came to the door of the office, curiosity and anticipation on their faces.
“It’s ten minutes to six,” Rackman said.
“Oh what the hell,” Jenkins replied. “Answer it.”
Dorothy picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“Is this Kim?” asked the deep voice of a man. They all could hear him through an amplifier in the base of the phone.
“Yes, it is.”
“I’m calling about the ad in the paper.”
“Oh?”
“I weigh almost two hundred and fifty pounds—is that enough?”
“How tall are you?” she asked.
“Five foot eight.”
“Sounds fine to me,” she said cheerily, crossing her eyes and making a weird face at Rackman.
The caller breathed deeply a few times; he obviously was a little nervous. “Would you like to get together?”
“Sure.”
“My place or yours?”
“Why don’t we meet outdoors first, so we can kind of get to know each other a little first.”
“Outdoors?” he asked.
“Yes. You won’t mind, would you?”
“I thought you wanted to have sex.”
“I do—I really do, but I’d like to relax with you a little bit first. I just couldn’t take off my clothes and start doing it.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’d have to feel comfortable with you first, and the only way to do that is to meet someplace and talk for fifteen minutes or so. We should feel sure that we like each other.”
“I feel sure that I like you already,” the man said.
“Well you seem nice too, but I’d like to meet you first.”
“Where do you want to meet?”
“I live near Lincoln Center. Could you meet me at the fountain there at seven-thirty?”
“Okay. How will I know you?”
“I’ll be wearing tan slacks and a brown jacket.”
“What color hair you got?”
“I’m a light brunette. How will I know you?”
“I’ll be wearing a black raincoat and one of those big apple caps—you know those big apple caps?”
“Yes. What color is it?”
“Black and white checks.”
“What’s your name?”
“What’cha wanna know my name for?”
“You mean we’re going to have sex together and you won’t even tell me your name?”
“Carl.”
“Okay Carl. See you at seven-thirty.”
“I’m real clean,” Carl said.
“Good for you.”
“The ad said that you’re clean.”
“I am.”
“I hope so.”
“I’ll see you at seven-thirty, Carl. Okay?”
“Okay Kim.”
The caller hung up, and so did Dorothy. “I can’t believe that phone call,” she said.
Jenkins scratched his head. “It takes all kinds to make a world.”
Rackman chortled. “But only one kind to make a phone call like that.”
“You’re a helluva one to talk. You’ve had your nose in those sex magazines all week.”
The phone rang again. Dorothy picked it up. “Hello?”
“Kim please,” said a man.
“This is Kim speaking.”
“Are you the Kim who put the ad in the New York Review of Sex?”
“Yes, I am.”
“You ought to be ashamed of yourself, young lady,” the man said in a strident voice. “You’re going to burn in hell for the terrible things you do if you don’t accept the teachings of our Lord Jesus. It’s still not too late, you still can—”
Dorothy interrupted him. “I guess you don’t want to meet me.”
“Meet you?” the man asked, taken aback.
“Yes, meet me.”
“You dirty Jezebel!” he cried. “You cruel sinner! How can you suggest such a thing to a man like me!”
Dorothy hung up the phone and shook her head.
“The weirdoes are coming out of the woodwork,” she said. “Anybody got a cigarette?”
Rackman held out his pack of Luckies. “Hang in there, kid.”
Jenkins grunted. “You should’ve tried to make a date with that last joker.”
“Are you serious?” Dorothy asked.
“He’s just the type of sick son of a bitch who might kill somebody.”
“I did try, didn’t I?”
“I don’t think you tried hard enough. Don’t get salty with these guys. Just make dates with them.”
“Sorry,” Dorothy said.
The phone rang again. She puffed the Lucky and picked it up.
“Hello?” she said.
“Are you Kim?” asked a man.
“Uh huh.”
“Well listen, I read your ad in the New York Review of Sex, and I’m not a fat guy but I got an eight-inch cock and I know I could show you a good time.”
Dorothy looked at the ceiling. “I’m sorry, but I specified fat guys and that’s what I want.”
“Aw, come on, baby. I’ll even go down on you.”
“Sorry,” she sang.
“Aw shit,” the man grumbled.
Dorothy hung up, and almost immediately the phone rang again. She brought it to her face.
“Hello?”
“Larry please?” said a man.
“Larry?” she said.
“I think I got the wrong number.” The man hung up.
Dorothy returned the phone to the cradle. “What time is it?”
“Five after six,” said Rackman. “The calls really should start coming in now.”
The phone rang, and Dorothy picked it up. “Hello?”
“Kim?” asked a man.
“Speaking.”
“Is your ad for real?”
“Yep.”
“You can’t be very pretty if you’re advertising in the paper.”
“You might be surprised if you saw me.”
“Pleasantly surprised?”
“Uh huh. How much do you weigh, honey?”
“Three hundred and five.”
“Oh, you sound like a nice one.”
“How much do you weigh?” he asked.
“A hundred and ten.”
“I’ll crush your bones, kid.”
“Oh no you won’t.”
“Where are you now?”
“Home.”
“Where’s that?”
“I live near Central Park on the West Side. You want to meet me?”
“Why not?”
“How about in front of the Coliseum. We can have a cup of coffee in one of the little restaurants in the neighborhood.”
“Why don’t you just come over to my place? I got tons of coffee over here.”
“I’d rather get to know you in neutral territory first.”
“I can dig that. What time?”
“How about seven-thirty tonight?”
“You’re on. By the way, my name’s Walter.”
“Hi Walter. What’ll you be wearing?” “A blue business suit. I’ll go to the Coliseum directly from my office.” “See you then, Walter.” “Bye-bye, baby.”