Strasser was leaving Zanya's loft by the window he came in by. She stayed inside, watched him step up onto the sill and out onto the fire escape.

"How long you figure?" she said.

He stuck his head back in. "Not very, if she's around where you said she'd be. So give yourself enough time."

"Don't worry, I'll be there. That's my money you're using."

"You'll get it back."

"Just make it work."

He nodded and turned around and started down, thinking this wouldn't be a great route to take in icy weather. Climbed down to the ladder on the bottom landing, lowered it, the metal squeaking with age. When it stopped halfway to the sidewalk and wouldn't go any further, he hung from the last rung and dropped the final ten feet to the dark pavement.

He let his knees absorb the landing, looked both ways along the street, no sign of Lagnese's car or anyone else's. No people, just some rats in the gutter fighting over some spilled garbage. He started through this neighborhood that nobody seemed to want anymore, no sign of late shifts in the decaying buildings, local industry on its way out. He turned his face from the headlights of a lone passing truck.

He thought about her as he walked, still wondering if she was the real deal. Reminded himself that she did have that blood of his inside her. Did it mean they had some kind of bond now? Or was he just another meal?

A few blocks on he rounded a corner and came to a wider, busier street, four lanes, a minor thoroughfare lined by storefronts dark for the night. Just enough traffic to give cover to the mini-skirted ladies strolling up and down, each one putting a little hitch into her high-heeled step, aiming their equipment at the passing cars. A pair of black women who could have been twins stepped over to a cruising Mercedes just nosing into an empty space. The windows slid down and the ladies charmed it up for the two guys Strasser could see inside.

He kept to the near sidewalk, hadn't gone far when he heard a voice from one of the doorways.

"Want a date?"

He looked over and could make out the dim figure of a woman.

"No charge for seconds," she said.

She took a step toward him and came into enough light that he could see she was old. Wore a wig and was caked with badly done makeup.

"Maybe another time," Strasser said, and kept walking.

"I'll be here, name's Marge." she said in a voice that was actually kind of nice.

He'd gone another half block, feeling a little bad about the encounter, when he noticed a man and woman up ahead having words. As he got closer and the words got louder he could see that the woman was the teen prostitute whose picture he'd seen on Zanya's phone. Same short skirt and stiletto boots, same tangerine-streaked hair. Just where Zanya said she'd be.

He halted mid-step when the girl took a slap, a hard one to the face. The goateed black man who delivered it was ready with another, the guy wearing head-to-toe leathers.

"You clean that little piece of crap outta yourself," he said. "Use an abortion dude or whatever. But don't be tellin me no sad tales."

Strasser thinking, So she likes them pregnant, Zanya does. Senses it in them probably before they even know it themselves.

The black man shoved the girl against a storefront, rattling the drop-gate, turned and stalked off, popping attitude. Gave Strasser an up-yours look over his shoulder.

Strasser watched him, this pimp taking his leather-bound ass around the corner. The girl stood there shaking, trying to settle herself, probably just a couple years out of junior high. When it looked like she had gotten herself back together, Strasser walked by, casual, like no agenda.

Protocol was to ask if he wanted company, or whatever spin she gave it, but either he didn't look like he had the goods or she was still smarting from the slap. He slowed down to take the bills Zanya gave him out of his pocket. Fluttered them with his thumb, like just checking how much cash he had. Then he stuck the money back in his pocket and kept going.

The move wasn't lost on the girl. She checked herself in the storefront window, wiped her nose that was runny from the slap, caught up with Strasser and fell in step.

"Evenin," she said, a little south in her voice, a runaway most likely, just like he and Zanya had thought. .

Strasser kept his look straight ahead. "Hello."

He didn't slow down, didn't speed up, just kept walking past the darkened stores, opposite the direction His Pimpness went.

The girl stayed with him, getting herself more together, tucking back strands of the orangey hair. "I guess you saw all that back there."

Strasser nodded. "He hurt you?"

"No big deal."

At the corner they passed under a streetlamp and Strasser gave her a sideways glance. Saw her touch her face and wince, her cheek starting to swell.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Jevy," she said.

"That a nickname?"

"For Genevieve."

Another nod. "And him?"

"What about him?"

"What's his name?"

She looked away – The hell's he care? "All I ever heard him called is Boxboy."

A few steps on she looked back at him. "You a cop?"

Strasser gave a little snort. "What you'd need for a perfect night."

She squinted, watching his face. Almost hot, this guy with his questions. She gave a shrug, all the same to her.

They kept going another block, her stilettos making little echos, him not bringing up her pregnancy, though she had to know he'd heard. He turned them onto a side street that wasn't so well lit.

Halfway down, Strasser picked out a shadow in the shadows over there, somebody under the scaffolding in front of that building being patched up.

"Want one of these?" he said, reaching into his pocket, wanting to keep Jevy's attention over here.

"Huh?"

He pulled out his box of Tic-Tacs.

She held out her hand and he shook a couple of the little pills into it, keeping one eye on the shadow. Saw it slip out from under the scaffolding and cross the empty street, ducking into that alley they'd agreed on. He popped a pill into his mouth, stuck the Tic-Tacs back in his pocket.

He tried to picture one more time how they'd be using the alley, get a fix on the alcove that right now Zanya would be sidling into.

They walked a little further and when he got Jevy just outside the alley, he pulled Zanya's bills out of his jeans, peeled some off the wad. "You mind if I give you this here?"

Jevy stopped, turned back to him, looked past him into the alley.

He held up the money in her sightline, blocking her view. "Half now, half after."

She stared at the fifty and hundred-dollar bills, couple hundred dollars worth.

"This is probably enough here to cover everything," he said. "But there'll be another half waiting. Bonus for performance."

Jevy stared for a moment, trying to read him. He tipped the money toward her. She took it and folded it into the little jacket she'd bought to go with the skimpy skirt.

Strasser checked the street both ways and nudged her toward the alley. Jevy turned with a whatever shrug and walked into the darkness, no stranger to doing business off the beaten track. Strasser checked his back one more time, followed her into the alley.

Five or six steps into the dark, he reached for Jevy's shoulder, turning her toward him. Behind her, the black silhouette of Zanya stepped from the alcove.

Strasser reached down to his fly, Jevy dropped to her knees.

Over Jevy's shoulder, Zanya came toward them, soundless.

Strasser was having trouble with his zipper. Jevy reached up to pull it.

Three shadows converging. Three of them set to ignite.