Hollywood Dyke

An excerpt from Hollywood Dyke

The sassy skirt from the Post-Gazette sauntered over. "What's the skinny on Jeannie Arcowe?" Alice asked.

"Nobody's talkin'," Graver said laconically, cigarette hanging from his fat lip.

Alice gazed past him toward the open door to a dressing room. A pretty brunette had one leg up on a chair, adjusting her stocking, her white thigh smooth and bare right up to her panties. "Who's the shameless hussy? She intimate with the dearly departed?" Alice asked.

Graver looked back over his shoulder and did a double-take at the girl unconsciously exposing herself. "I— I don't know 'er."

"You're standin' right outside her dressin' room," Alice said with a smile, and started to walk away.

"I'm just waitin' on a— a, uh— a guy with the scoop on this racehorse picture...."

"Petey sweetie!" came a squeal from behind. It was the brunette, all straight and primped. She threw her arms around Graver and started to drag him into the dressing room. "Come in here."

"See ya, Petey sweetie," Alice laughed and turned and sauntered off.