Sometimes her eyes seduce. Sometimes they stare straight at the kind of sights most people turn away from. But in the blazing neon and searing sun of Las Vegas, she can't see the man who is watching her and thinking to himself: She is the one. . .
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January 05, 2005
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Excerpt from Dark Eye by William Bernhard
Three times I've fired my weapon. Three times. Twice because I had to. The third time was optional. But I never plugged anyone for making a pass at me, no matter how tempting it might be. It was a rule. Until that night in early October. When the whole damn mess began.
I really don't know how it happened. For starters, I looked like hell and I knew it, despite what the guy was saying. It was all bullshit.
"Has anyone ever mentioned that you have a gorgeous pair of eyes?"
"Only my ophthalmologist," I told the kid in the Polo.
"No, seriously, you do. My mom says I've always been an eye man." He leaned closer. I could smell the whiskey on his breath. "Are they different?"
"Different from . . . your mom's?"
"From each other. It's like . . . your right eye is darker than the left."
I nodded. "Cat scratch. When I was five."
"Well, it works for you. Gives you an exotic aura."
"If you like that, wait till you see my athlete's foot."
He smiled, which wasn't his best look. "You know what? You're funny."
"Not another reference to my appearance, I hope."
He scooted his chair closer to mine. "Look," he said, his voice suddenly low and tremulous. "I think it's obvious what's happening here. Why don't we cut through the baloney, go back to my place, and give each other what we both know we want?"
"At the moment, there's only two things I want."
"And they would be?"
"Another bourbon. Neat."
"I can arrange that. What else do you want?"
"You to leave."