Ray turned and looked out across the street, a heavy scent of expensive perfume drifting by.
From the shadows a sultry voice advised. “You shouldn’t be here Ray. It is dangerous for you.”
Frenchie stepped into the light. By Ray’s account she was different. That was it, a woman. Fully fledged. Worldly. Her hair was stacked Bouffant style, pricy make-up professionally applied emphasised lips and eyes. And she wore an expensive full length sequined white dress by de Givenchy with six inch stilettoes.
“If Jerry sees you he will flip.”
Ray didn’t turn a hair. He eyed her up and down, finally asking. “Say Frenchie did someone pour you into that dress?”
“Gown Ray. It’s a gown. How would you like to paw me out of it?”
Ray faced her. “You’ve grown up babe. You’re all woman now. Is Maguire aro
