Hooked

recorder. Then he went to the door and ushered the actor into the office where Colin waited.
    Dirk Hansen was almost too pretty to be a man. Wavy hair worn long, fake tan, eyes bright blue. A tight T-shirt highlighted his gym-rat rippling abs. It didn’t take Benny long to realize the actor had one person’s interest in mind, and it wasn’t Cindi’s.
    “I bet this place is a goldmine,” Hansen said, taking in every detail of the office, especially the erotic Persian miniatures.
    Hansen exuded a smugness that made him instantly unlikable. Benny didn’t know for sure where this kid was going, but he smelled money on the horizon, felt it in his bones. And if there was one thing Benny knew, it was the smell of money. He sat back and let Hansen set the conversation.
    “So you don’t know what happened to Cindi, huh?” Hansen continued.
    “Like the man said, she left here the other night and never came back. She wasn’t on the schedule, so I didn’t think much about it.” Benny took a small tin of mints from his jacket pocket and popped one in his mouth. He didn’t offer one to Hansen. “And you say you haven’t heard from her either?”
    “Not a word. I have a key to her place, and she wasn’t there. Didn’t look like she’d been home for a couple of days.” He steadied his gaze on Benny. “Probably since she left here.”
    Benny juggled his mint from one side of his mouth to the other, taking his time. “Maybe she has another boyfriend and they ran off together. Not inconceivable with beautiful women who love money and excitement.”
    “No, Cindi would never do that. She loves me. She wouldn’t flip me for someone else.”
    Cocky son of a bitch. “You told Colin you were going to call the police to report her missing. Why haven’t you?”
    “How do you know I haven’t?”
    Not only did Benny dislike this guy, he wanted to rearrange his pretty face. He was the high school jock who always got the girl, the captain of the football team, the stud who got by on his looks and not talent or brains. The guy who was everything Bennie wasn’t, except rich. Well, Hansen was finding out that being an actor wasn’t the same as high school, because he wasn’t making it, or else he wouldn’t be at Upper Eighties giving his best impression of a shakedown. Tough business, even for a pretty boy.
    Benny noticed Colin’s frown before he turned to the computer and feverishly typed away, clicking the mouse, typing again.
    “I know you haven’t contacted the police, because you wouldn’t be here if you had,” Benny responded.
    Hansen smiled. Goddamn whitest teeth Benny ever saw. Perfect too, like fucking Chiclets. So, he was either genetically lucky or his parents paid a bundle for orthodontics. Which meant he came from at least a middle-to-upper class background.
    “I can still report her missing. But I can keep quiet for the right price.”
    The scumbucket now validated Benny’s gut instinct about extortion. “Why would you think there is a right price?” he said coolly.
    “You’re running a house of prostitution. Cops might be interested.”
    “I’m sure they would,” Colin said, surprising Benny at the intervention. “Go ahead. Report her missing.” He turned around the computer screen where Dirk Hansen’s mug shot stared back at them. “This you?” Colin asked. “Says here, um, let’s see, oh yeah, you beat up your wife. Almost killed her. You spent a night in jail before your rich daddy bailed you out.” Colin faced Hansen, whose smugness had vanished. “Cindi know about this? We need to tell her, Benny, next time she shows up.”
    Hansen’s neck was as purple as an eggplant, and his words came out in a staccato sputter. “My wife…she…she dropped the charges. I was cleared.”
    “Hmm, still married, I see,” Colin said, switching screens. “Wonder if Cindi knows.”
    “Me and my wife—we’re in the process of getting a divorce. We haven’t lived together for months.”
    “Somehow I don’t think you want to report anything,” Colin said. “What if something did happen to Cindi? Who do you think the cops would suspect? Who do you think, Benny?”
    I could kiss you, Colin, but you might take it the wrong way . “Gee, I don’t know, but I bet they’d certainly question this nice fellow here. Go ahead, Hansen. Use my phone. The police will be here in a few minutes, and you can make your charges. Oh, and by the way, there’s nothing here but apartments. Some are