Chino woke up in Ericka"s bed, their naked bodies intertwined. It took him a moment to remember where he was. He turned his head to face her. Her eyes were closed and her breath was warm. Her eyes opened with perfectly-choreographed timing. She smiled, saying, “Hey, you.”
“How you feel?” she asked.
“I feel like I got run over by a truck.”
“I"ll bet.”
Chino"s skin felt cool beneath the fan overhead. Her smell—something sweet and wonderful—was in his nostrils.
“Weird question,” he said. “What kind of perfume you wear?”
“Why?”
“You smell good.”
Her smile became a smirk. “You gonna run out and get you some, so you can smell good too?”
“Maybe.”
“You"re a lucky man, Charlie Bronson.”
“I know,” he said. “But why do you say that?”
“I don"t usually bring gentlemen callers back to my pla
