"You have a sexy voice," said Frankie.

Uh oh, thought Davey, here it comes.

"I do?" he said.

"Yes, I like hearing it. I like looking at you, too. Read to me. Would you do that?"

"Read to you?"

"Yes," said Frankie, almost closing his eyes. "There's a book on the table beside you. Read that." He watched through thick, Mediterranean eyelashes while Davey found the book.

It looked like a hardback reprint of an old pulp novel, complete with lurid painting on the book jacket. Davey opened it to the first page and read aloud. "How could she refuse?"