Anna Sakuri was sixty-nine inches of hedonistic glee packed into forty four years of ruthless will. She sold real estate in Beverly Hills… a young man’s game but she ate young men for lunch. Which is where Rhea found her: at the Polo Lounge, at her usual table with a thirty dollar tuna salad and a blow dried junior agent to munch.
“You’re a long way from Cinco Puntos.” Sakuri snickered as Rhea approached.
“About nine miles and a million bucks.” Rhea shot back, then added: “I need a favor.”
Sakuri kicked junior out. He went to the bar. Rhea slid in to the booth.
“You want me to take George back.” Sakuri said.
“God no”, Rhea told her, “She’s happy.”
“Fuck you.” Sakuri stabbed back.
“No thanks” Rhea shot back then Anna leaned in with a languid smile and said,
“Sweetie, it’s only sex and gin”.
“About that favor…” Rhea pressed.
“Shoot.”
“You still do business on the east side?”
“Just sold a three bed Spanish fixer in Silverlake for two point two to Gary Ozrin – the son of that cheeseball producer who made all those bible porn movies. Why?”
“Do you know anyone who needs a housesitter or is renting a room?” Rhea asked, a little sheepishly.
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
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