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          “Hey,” Shaylee said.  “If it ain’t the Queen of England.”  In the background, a Spanish soap opera was on too loud.  Shaylee was sitting on a plastic chair in the taqueria, her bare feet resting on another.

          Spider glanced at her.  “Vaquero here?”

          Shaylee shrugged.  “Someone said he’d be back in five.”

          Spider made a little moue of disappointment.  “I don’t have an hour to sit here.”  But she pulled a chair out and turned it around and sat down, arms crossed along the back.  She was wearing black jeans and flat boots. 

          “That’s a mankiller outfit,” Shaylee said.

          Spider ignored her.

          After a minute, Shaylee said, “Mind if I ask you a question?”

          Without looking at her, Spider said, “Probably.”

          “Seriously.”

          “Shaylee, you’re going to ask me, so go ahead and ask.”

          “I admire you,” Shaylee said.  “I mean, I admire that toughchick thing you do—“

          “Right,” Spider said.

          “—but wouldn’t it be easier to make it on your back?”

          Spider looked at Shaylee.

          “You’re pretty.  Prettier than I am.  You could probably even make it as one of those high class escort girls.”

          “You don’t make it on your back,” Spider said.  “You make it on your knees.  I don’t kneel.”

          Shaylee shook her head.  “You like girls.  Maybe I do, too.  But work is work, you know what I mean?  You don’t have to like them.  It’s just business.”

          “What’s to like?  Old guys who are missing teeth and smoke too many cigarettes.”

          “Suit yourself,” Shaylee said.  “I just think it would be easier than this whole lesbian ninja thing you do.”

          There was a commercial for immigration lawyers on the television.

          Out of nowhere, Spider said, “Every time you sell, a little piece of yourself goes away.”

          Shaylee snorted.  “If that was true, honey, I wouldn’t have these hips.”

          Spider looked at Shaylee.  “You were good to me when I first came here.  I know that.  But I’ve got to ask you.  Did you ever know a girl who retired, who wasn’t HIV, wasn’t using, who just had a life?”

          Shaylee appeared to be watching the television.  Without taking her eyes off the screen she said in a voice suddenly years older and more tired.  “You think you’re gonna have a life after this?”

          “I’d rather die on my feet than live on my knees.”

 

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