He disappeared. Martin waited for him. He was worth waiting for. He was confident and comfortable, not macho.
He said he owned a ranch in Montana with 200 horses on it. He told her he traveled a lot. “Sometimes,” he said, “I have to kill for my country.”
She rubbed his thighs. She just wanted to watch him and listen to him talk. His voice was soothing. She sat in his lap.
“Why not give me your phone number?” he said.
“No,” she said, and told him about her live-in boyfriend.
“I still want to you to call me.” He scribbled down his phone number and pager number. Three or four hours after she first sat down with him, Will Busenburg left.
Martin wanted to call him, but she didn’t. She knew he’d be back. She counted up the money he’s spent on her—$300.
A week and a day later, Stephanie Martin spotted Will Busenburg across the room. He sat in the Rose with four guys, just a half hour from closing time. Martin walked up, smiling.
Busenburg turned to the men. “Okay, you can go now.”
They silently got up and left.
“How come, um, they all got up and left, you know?”
“They all owe me a favor.” His voice was deep. “I saved their lives on a job.”
She left with Busenburg.