Page 18 of Creature
When he glanced up, a smiling Swan stoodbeside the table holding two glasses of amber liquid.
Damn. As easy asthat.But onlythe first step, Harry warnedhimself.
“May I join you?” Swan’svoice was deeper than his slender frame suggested.
Harry shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
“Thank you.” Swan set theglasses on the table. Although he moved with delicacy and grace,his handshake was as firm as a teamster’s. “ArthurSwan.”
“I’m Harry Lowe.” Townsendtold him to use his real name. No real reason not to, and it waseasier than remembering an alias.
“Delighted.” Swan satopposite him and pushed one of the glasses closer to Harry. “Pleaseallow me to buy you a drink.”
Harry wanted to tell him that he neverdrank. But if Harry refused, Swan might reject him, in which caseHarry had no idea how to make the next move. So he nodded histhanks, clinked glasses with Swan in a silent toast, and took asip.
“You’re not a fan ofbourbon?” Swan sounded amused rather than annoyed.
“I just ain’t….” Harrywinced. “I’m not used to it. I’m from a dry county.” He was pleasedwith himself for manufacturing that lie on the spot.
“Then allow me to get yousomething that will go down more easily.” Before Harry couldprotest, Swan was on his way to the bar, where he had aconversation with the bartender. Swan returned several minuteslater with a stemmed glass containing a darker liquid topped by alighter one.
“What’s this?” Thecontents of the warm glass smelled like coffee.
“Just try it. Drink itright through the layer of cream.”
Harry did, and… it wasn’t bad. It tasted ofcoffee, sweet but with an underlying kick he assumed was theliquor. His second swallow was more confident.
Swan leaned back in his chair. “Ah. I seeI’ve found the right note for you, Mr. Lowe. Or may I call youHarry?”
“Harry’s fine.”
Smiling, Swan finished his own bourbon,reached for Harry’s rejected glass, and took a healthy slug. “Sotell me, Harry. Where is this dry county from which you originate,and what brings you to the City of Roses?”
This line of questioning felt comfortable;Harry had practiced it with the agents. “I’m from Missouri.”
“The Show-Me State.” Forsome reason Swan seemed amused by this. “Excellent.”
“I suppose. But I’ve beenin California for a little while. Los Angeles.”
“Let me guess. Youmigrated in hopes of obtaining employment in the motion picturebusiness.”
“Yeah. How’d youknow?”
“With a beautiful facesuch as yours, it seems a natural choice.” Swan tilted his head,reminding Harry of the hawks that perched on power lines at home,scanning the fields for prey. “You were not as successful as you’dhoped?”
“My goals changed. I… metsomeone.”
“Ah. What sort ofsomeone?”
Harry took a large swallow before answering.“A man. He and I were… like-minded, right? He had some money. Hehired me as his personal assistant.”
Swan was rubbing the heels of his handstogether. He leaned forward. “How personal, Harry?”
“Realpersonal.”
“I see.”
While Swan regarded him, Harry finished hisdrink. The liquor still burned, but less so by now. When the glasswas empty, Swan turned slightly and signaled to the bartender, thenresumed staring at Harry. “You’ve answered only part of myquestion. How did you get from sunny California to the soddenNorthwest?”
