Chelsea's eyes lifted and began to focus on the ceiling above her. Where was she this time? All these high-end hotels weren't high-end at all. They all looked the same, the staff all acted the same, and all the beds felt the same.

Turning her head, she stared at David next to her. Derek? Donald? Whoever he was, he was drooling in his sleep. Tossing the covers off of her, she sat up and rubbed her face, then headed into the bathroom. A quick shower and a gargle with the complimentary mouthwash got the feel and taste of last night off of her. Slipping back into her black cocktail dress and heels, she tucked her still-damp hair under her black fedora, tilted it just so, and walked to the opposite side of the bed. At DavidDerekDonald's side table lay his wallet, cigarettes, and watch. Chelsea slipped the watch onto her wrist and picked up the wallet, extracting a thousand dollars. Twice the agreed-upon fee, but what was he going to do, call the cops? Tell his wife?

Tossing the wallet back on the nightstand, she turned, picked up her pocketbook that sat on the sitting room table as she passed it, and exited the room. In the hallway, someone had left a room service tray out, remnants of their breakfast still on it. Kneeling down, she helped herself to the last of someone's orange juice and an untouched wedge of toast, then pulled her hat a little lower and quickly left through a fire exit and into an alley behind the hotel. Choosing left, she was deposited on a less busy street, where she intended to hail a cab.

As she rounded the corner at the mouth of the alley, though, she ran into another pedestrian, hard.

"OOF!" She said into his neck. He smelled really good.

"Apologies. I wasn't looking where I was going," she mumbled, stepping to the side to get past him. He did the same, effectively blocking her, albeit unintentionally. She sidestepped back the other way, and he again did the same. Letting out a sharp bark of laughter, Chelsea crooked a smile.

"I usually charge a hell of a lot for a dance, but you're kinda cute, so this one's free," she said, noticing a blotch of yellow coming down the street out of the corner of her eye. She raised her arm, trying to get the driver's attention, but her gaze never shifted from the man standing in front of her.

“You should tip your waitresses. Asshole.”
“The fuck you say?”
Fiorenzo looked over the man from his seat at the table in the greasy spoon. He watched him pay then get up to leave without throwing down a tip. Everything about the stiff said he was young and arrogant. Fiorenzo smiled as the guy stopped. By the time the ‘Asshole’ turned to look it was a shit eating grin.
"You should tip your waitresses. Asshole… She didn’t bring you your coffee fast enough? Wait no. Don’t do it now. You will look even worse. ”
“Mind your own damn business.”
The guy muttered after a long period of silence. Fiorenzo never got out of his chair. He just stared at the man with that grin. The man turned and quickened his pace for the door swearing to himself the whole way out.

….

Fiorenzo had been following around this idiot for damn near half an hour at this point. He had seen at least four hundred dollars when this jerk flashed his wallet out paying for his breakfast at the diner. The man hadn’t noticed Fiorenzo tailing him at all of course. He was happy to not get noticed.

It gave him all the time he needed to find an opening to tell this man whose wallet he’s been carrying around with him. It had been Fiorenzo’s every since the man flashed it. This bastard didn’t seem to need it anyways from the suit he was sporting. This would be easy. He was pretty sure this guy didn’t have the balls to put up a fight. So maybe he wouldn’t have to use his knife on the mark.

As he turned to a new street, Fiorenzo was in a hurry because he had dropped back too far. The man had stopped. Fiorenzo didn’t realize it at first so he turned his head to look in the opposite direction hoping the mark wouldn’t recognize his face. He made it a few more steps and was about to make it look like he had changed his mind on which direction he was headed. Something else changed that for him.

For a moment he thought the man had charged him for a tackle. Fiorenzo quickly knew this wasn’t a man he had run into. The warm breath on his neck seemed to let him know by instinct. The way she lingered for a moment was a giveaway too.

 This lady had a look to her. That fedora tilted to the side and the way a bit of water was dripping down her neck from where it was tucked in hastily, said a lot to Fiorenzo. He smirked as she stared at him after laughing.

“Never had to pay for a dance. Well. Not in cash. You dance with enough of the wrong women. You end up paying somehow.”

The stiff from the diner seemed to slip his mind. Fiorenzo stared back at her. He noticed her arm was raised for the cab that was pulling up right beside them.

“You seem like you are in a hurry to get somewhere.”  His eyes moved to the water droplet that was currently cascading down the side of her neck.

Chelsea's mouth moved, but no sound came out at first. She was having trouble focusing and the words wouldn't come, which never happened to her. Talking was a part of her business, sometimes johns really did just need an ear to bend. A glance at the cab driver after a pissy little tap of the horn had her realizing she needed to say or do something pretty soon.

"Not so much 'to' as 'from'. You headed somewhere? We can split this cab, or..." Her thoughts ground to a halt as she realized he'd already be in a cab if he wanted one. She needed coffee badly. 

"I need coffee badly. Not around here, though. Care to join?" She asked, her gaze never leaving him but her feet stepping towards the cab. As she reached behind her blindly for the handle on the door, the men's watch on her wrist slid down her forearm and clinked against the metal. It was all the reminder she needed. She looked skywards at the hotel windows that looked out on this side and then opened the cab door. As she kneeled and slid in, she realized too just how inappropriately she was outfitted for eight in the morning. She left the door open as she moved across the back seat, tugging against the hem of her dress which kept riding up her thighs. Once she was over behind the driver, she tilted her head and smiled at the guy still standing on the sidewalk, watching her.

"You can see my legs really well from in here," she teased, the safety and concealment of the interior of the cab putting her at almost instant ease. "I might be the wrong woman, but you won't pay because of it. Not today, anyway. Coffee's on me," she winked.

The more she backed away from it the more it was apparent to him. This broad was gorgeous. Something seemed to be going on here. It felt like he couldn’t look away. How hard did she hit him? That dress. The wet hair. Fuck she was sexy as hell. She had an allure and charm and it was obvious how effortless it was working on him. “Wallet? What wallet?”

He wasn’t meaning to just stare her down, but he really wasn’t sure what was going on with him. This was a new thing for him. Fiorenzo’s head cocked to the side as she reached for the door handle after inviting him along for coffee. He didn’t want her to leave so quickly.

*clink*

He looked at the obviously too large watch, and the pieces started to click. She must be a thief? When the mysterious body checker said she was headed from somewhere she meant it. He went to turn and look back to where she had glanced, but Fiorenzo couldn’t help himself. When she started to get in he looked her over. That sexy black dress pulled to her in just the right ways. He couldn’t help but imagine what was underneath.

As her dress slid up a little more each time, Fiorenzo began to wonder just how far she would let the dress ride. He couldn’t help but bite the inside of his lip. He laughed as she offered to pay and with the wink was his first step towards her. A step that he couldn’t believe had taken him so long.

“The coffee might be on you...” He pulled the door to the cab shut quickly once inside. “But somehow I think I’m really going to pay for this one.” Fiorenzo couldn’t help it. She told him the view was better in there so he took advantage of it. She was right. This woman was exuding sexuality. She was almost showing him a lot more than he assumed she realized. He looked back up to her shaking his head with a grin.

“You heard her. Drive. Coffee. Not close. Go already.”

He said looking at the cabbie who was staring at them. For a moment his eyes changed. They were empty again. The stare he gave the cabbie could have been targeted a mile off. You wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. Fiorenzo couldn’t help but notice when he was being stared at usually. It was why he was always trying to blend in and go unnoticed. He hated the feeling. Something was different this time though. When this woman stared at him it didn’t bother him at all. With a suppressed grumble of various swears the cabbie put the car in gear and took off down the road with them.

Fiorenzo looked the woman in the eyes once more. The way they changed from the cabbie to this unknown lady was delayed. It was similar to the way your pupils adjust between light and dark.  

“Fiorenzo Uccello.” The name hung in the air for a moment. He then smiled.  “You were bound to ask it soon. Why are we in such a hurry to coffee today, Miss?...”

He looked down her body once more. He did it quickly this time. It was unintentional. Fiorenzo was just glad he had fought the urge to grab her by her exposed thigh and pull her over towards him. He didn’t know what it was she was doing to him, but he wanted to find out why he felt this way for a stranger.

Chelsea watched as Fiorenzo Uccello's features shifted. It wasn't an obvious shift, more felt than observed, but it was there like static electricity in the car. Or a silver filling picking up a low level vibration when you bit into a fork. Or a dog whistle. 

This bitch knew and recognized the sound. It was one predator brushing up against another. She wasn't scared, though. More... intrigued. As the cab took a hard left onto the next street, her body swayed towards his and she caught the smell of him again. Not cologne. Maybe a subtle aftershave. Whatever it was, it was good stuff, not the cheap shit the men's room attendants slapped on a fella when he visited the head in a fine dining establishment.

"That's a hell of a name. Can I call you Fio? I'm Cros...Chelsea," she said, out of the blue. No one was allowed to use or even know her real name, but she'd just let it fly as if someone had asked her for the time of day. She stared at him for another ponderous moment, wondering just how many more truths would spill out of her before the cab ride was even over.

At least one more, it turned out.

"I was working," she said quietly, another tug at the hem of her dress punctuating the statement. "When it's time to go, it's time to go. Create some distance before any problems crop up." Like them waking and seeing I've taken more than what had been agreed upon. She wasn't ashamed of what she was, or what she did; hell, she'd already made more money by 25 than most women would in a lifetime. Crossfire was who they wanted, what they asked for, even when wallets were cleaned out or personal effects came up missing. She wasn't sure what reaction she was expecting, but the cab pulled up to a coffeehouse just then, the driver hitting the brakes harder than he had to. Chelsea popped her door open and climbed out, the sound of horns blaring as her door swung wide into traffic. Half expecting Fiorenzo to stay in the cab, she leaned back in and tossed the fare, all in loose change, over the front seat at the driver.

"You need to work on your fucking people skills," she sniped at him, then turned to bid adieu to Mr. SmellsGood, only to find he was already out of the cab as well. Slamming her door shut, she straightened and the cab zoomed off in a squeal of tires, leaving her standing halfway in the street. Straightening her fedora, she stepped onto the sidewalk and paced through the door that Fiorenzo was now holding open for her. She couldn't help but smile at that, touching his arm briefly as she passed him and walking inside.

It was a nicer joint; better than a greasy spoon but not enough so that you had to be seated by a hostess. The aroma of roasted coffee beans hit her and she sighed happily, unsure how'd she'd even made it this far into the day without tearing someone's head off. Another look at Fiorenzo as they took a seat at the counter made her think maybe he had a lot to do with it.

"Triple caffe' mocha, and a double shot of espresso on the side," she ordered when the waiter came by with a pad and pen. She looked over at Fiorenzo, who was gaping at her.

"I have a high caffeine tolerance."

“Chelsea.” Fiorenzo thought to himself after she said her name. It struck him a bit odd the way she almost said a different name. He wondered what had happened there. Had she started with the real one and given him the fake? He wasn’t sure, but it could just as easily have been the other way. He would have been hung up on that for much longer if Chelsea hadn’t continued with her next statements. That explained why the rush to get out with a man’s watch on her arm. It also brought light to the outfit she adorned this early in the morning for ‘coffee.’

Fiorenzo wasn’t pissed. He was furious. It happened the moment eye contact was broke. The slam of the brakes had lit a fire behind his eyes. He started to reach for his knife, but instead he opted for the door handle.

“656-422… 656-422…656-422”

Fiorenzo repeated the license plate number in his head a few times as he made his way to get the door. He knew where he would be heading once that cab got parked in its lot tonight. You shouldn’t be an asshole to the wrong people. If it hadn’t been for Chelsea, he would have quickly taken on the role of teacher to that man.

The fire was doused immediately. Chelsea’s simple brush against his arm and he was no longer plotting. He was thinking of how he could feel that electricity amplified. If she did this to him here? Now? What would it be like to be alone with this woman? He had seen plenty of escorts and call girls in Chicago. Not for pleasure, but when you run with the types Fiorenzo did, cathouses weren’t a stranger to business. She didn’t have that look to her. He wondered if maybe she was just that good at her job for a moment while he stared at her. Chelsea rattled off her coffee order like it was her abc’s.

“I’ll have a café latte.”

He smiled and put the astonished look away at her order.

“There aren’t enough hours in the day for me to drink that much caffeine. It would make for some restless nights.” His lip curled in a snarl. “I suppose some people do build up a tolerance.” Fiorenzo reached for his pack of All Jacks in his suit jacket. He popped one partially out of the soft pack with a jerk and his lips grabbed the cigarette out the rest of the way. He slid the pack toward her on the table and pulled out a matchbook. With a pop and a short hiss the match ignited and soon after his cigarette.

“So how is business? I got to know. What’s a case of the Monday’s like for someone like you?”

If she was searching him all she would find was a man hanging on her words. Why was he here with a prostitute? He wouldn’t dare leave right now though. She had a hold of him.

Fiorenzo took a sharp drag from his All Jacks and laughed as he blew out the smoke. “You don’t have to answer that.” His eyes seemed to travel down by them self once more. He quickly snapped them back up to her face though with a roll of his eyes at the look she gave him.

“How does this work? You pay for the coffee just to try and sweeten me up to pay for dessert? If that’s why you asked me here... Well I don’t like to waste people’s time. I told you I don’t pay for dances.” He stared at her as his mind screamed out, “WHY?” He knew it would be worth every penny he had. That is, if what was going on in his mind was any indication to what their flesh touching would produce. He had just never been the type to do so. He never needed to do so. He also knew that it wouldn’t be the same at all.

A slow blink and a bite of her lip. She liked him. And she really didn't like anybody. High-end call girls were a jaded lot. A couple others she knew in the business had let themselves like some of their regulars a bit too much. Never ended too well, all those empty promises of leaving wives, and false professions of love.

The coffees arrived and Chelsea grabbed her double shot and tossed it back with a slow, smooth backwards tilt of her head. The heat scorched down her throat in the most pleasant way. Setting the cup down, she reached for the mocha and sipped it. Perfect balance of chocolate and milk with the espresso, which didn't come easy in most places that served coffee. Hard enough to find anyone that even knew what a caffe' mocha was.

"Honestly, Mondays are pretty tame. I'm usually sleeping off a string of cocktail parties and stuffy dinner dates from the weekend. Then I spend the rest of the day in bed, reading historical non-fiction and having Chinese delivered. Sometimes Italian," she said, swiveling on her seat and re-crossing her legs. He glanced down as she did, but his eyes jumped up back to hers quickly. She thought about toying with him then, crossing and re-crossing just to watch his reaction, but it seemed mean-spirited to do so.

"Did you know that the Leaning Tower of Pisa always leaned? Yeah. When they did the foundation, they realized it was crooked. Construction stopped for like a hundred years before they started in again, but they kept right on building despite the faulty base," she said as she sipped her coffee again. She collected trivia like an information bandit.

"Enough about me, though. What's your story, Fiorenzo Uccello? What do you do? Are you a local?" Are you married? A quick glance at his finger said no, but that meant nothing these days. 

Why should that matter, anyway? This was just coffee, right? She had to leave soon anyway; her flight back to Las Vegas was in two hours and she still had to collect her things back at her own hotel. Plus, there was the little issue of her profession. It wasn't exactly what a man looked for in a woman. 

Well.

Not for long, anyway.

There was a smirk across Fiorenzo’s face. It had begun to creep up out of nowhere. He couldn’t help it. Her reaction to his question was exactly what he wanted to see. As far as he could tell she wasn’t upset about the how blunt he was with her. That was a good thing. Fiorenzo wasn’t able to be any other way. He never had been. When he said he didn’t want to waste her time he meant it. People jerk each other around far too much for his tastes.

Fiorenzo imagined Chelsea in her home routine while he took a drink his café latte. It was a fairly large drink. He then set the glass back down on the table. His eyes couldn’t help but head down as she said the word Italian. He listened to her as he took a slow pull from his cigarette. He exhaled in a long steady stream as Chelsea continued on about Pisa’s fabled tower. Her life was something that intrigued him. More so how open she was with him. He was starting to feel like this was the true her.

“You like a bit of Italian delivered every now and then? Well?” He laughed and smoke spurted out from his recent drag as he shrugged his shoulders and gestured at himself. He placed the cigarette in the ash tray and picked up the drink once more. He took another long drink. His eyes not leaving Chelsea’s anymore as he continued.  

“I wonder how many people meet this version of Cro-Chelsea?  A lot of people miss out I’m sure. Not that I know everything, but I did know that about Pisa. My mother is from Florence. Not far from Pisa-Still in the Tuscany region. I am no local. I work on the accent I know, but the damn thing won’t leave that easily. I don’t intend to stay here in Chicago. I hear Vegas has what I am looking for in this life.”

“Although I wish I was sticking around now.” He thought as he tilted his head staring at the most alluring thing his Sicilian eyes had ever seen. Those eyes narrowed a bit and his tongue pushed against his cheek as he thought about telling her more. Usually he wouldn’t open up to someone. “Damn she hit me hard.” Fiorenzo grabbed for the last few drags of his All Jack before it raced itself to death.

”Sicily is where I called home. I couldn’t stay there anymore. I lost my parents to a bad move on a chess board when I was twenty one. The place did nothing but remind me of it everywhere I looked. Chicago was supposed to be my fresh start. Here I am eight years down the road and still wandering around lost. Taking what I need from who I deem doesn’t need it as much as me. Well until today. Like I said Vegas sounds promising.”

He stared at her for a long pause. He was in shock that he had told her all of that  

“I think if you told me to throw it away and stay here with you right now I’d do it.”

Fiorenzo snuffed out the All Jack and shrugged again. “You seem more promising.”

Chelsea nearly choked on her coffee when he said 'Vegas'. Turning to the side, she quickly grabbed a napkin and covered her mouth until the fit passed. How the fuck did this shit happen? And why was she complaining, for Christ's sake? By the time she'd gotten herself under control, Vegas wasn't even in her head anymore. Fiorenzo was playing now, sweet words pouring out of him like sugar in her coffee as he delivered them with a cool casualness.

After a beat, she regained her mental footing and leaped back into the chess game. With a smooth, practiced move, she turned, slowly, towards him again while re-crossing her legs. She couldn't help it. This time, he looked. This time, he likely saw it all.

Check.

While his gaze remained at the top of her thighs, she spoke. "Quite homey, believe it or not, despite the reputation. You get in the right one, you're set," she said as his eyes raised to meet hers. "A crew. I live there. In Vegas. In fact, my flight is leaving soon and, as much as I'm enjoying this," she said, gently knocking a knee against his, "I gotta run or I'll miss it," she said, standing then. It was almost painful to do so; she wanted to stay.

"Listen," she said as she opened her clutch and extracted a card, "this is my handler. She's a friend of mine, I don't have a pimp. No one owns me," she said quietly, her eyes flashing for a moment. "But it's the only number I have. Call me. Only if you want to, of course. Ask for 'Crossfire' and request a date and time. I'll be there," she said, placing a matte black business card with only a number and a capital 'C' on it under the edge of his coffee cup. Leaning down, she brushed her lips against his cheek and whispered.

"Dessert is on me, too," she said, straightening her dress and her spine, tossing a five spot on the counter before he could object, and then sauntering out the door to hail what she hoped was a less heinous cab.