Chapter 18
When I told Sunny about our meeting, she did what she always does. Stuck her nose in. A most welcomed nose, I might add.
“So when do you get the number?”
“Glen left it on the voice mail last night. Her name is BelleAmie, works the streets not too far from the Naval Base. Gave me a description. I’m gonna try tonight.”
“So you’re gonna meet with our loose jawed hooker? Great . . . I’m in.”
“Oh no, you’re not. Who knows what might happen? I’ve put you in harm’s way too many times already. You can sit this one out.”
“Yeah, I could . . . but I’m not. You need my car and you need me. I can still cover your ass if I need to and our girl might be less suspicious of a woman, particularly if I tell her about my previous employment history.”
Sunny had been a stripper, a junkie, and a hooker in a previous life. She knew things . . . understood the threats, the compromises, and the simple fear that the ladies of the night lived with. She picked up things I didn’t, and it sounded like I didn’t have a choice anyway. My significant other has a head like a brick.
“Okay . . . you win. Pick me up around ten and we’ll go cruisin’.”
She nodded and headed off to campus for another scintillating day of molding young minds. I spent the rest of the day making a few calls, checking the .38, contemplating my wardrobe for the evening, and whittling away at my endless boat list.
I heard the horn of the old Saab honk a few minutes early. I stuffed the Taurus into the holster on my belt and put on a blue nylon jacket to cover any telling bulges. Sunny slid over to the passenger seat and I crawled behind the wheel. We were only a couple of miles from the street corner Glen had identified. I drove slowly. When Sunny spotted a woman matching BelleAmie’s description, I pulled to the curb.
She must have been a knockout at one time. No more than mid-twenties, but she looked tired and beaten. Probably 5’10”, but it was hard to tell with the black stilettoes exaggerating her height. Very blond, the locks hanging over her shoulders like conditioned straw. She wore a vinyl red skirt way above the knees and a long sleeved black v neck cut down to China. She was braless, but still firm. Her breasts seemed to struggle for release. She pranced over to the car and leaned into the window.
“You’re Fleming,” she said to me, “I like a threesome if everybody plays nice.”
Sunny opened the door and eased into the back. Miss Red skirt slid in and closed the door with a clunk.
“If I’m doing extra duty, it’s gonna cost you a motel room and a bottle of wine. Pull into that 7 Eleven on the corner. I’m letting you off easy. MD 20/20, Red Grape . . . two pints.”
I did as she instructed, then followed her directions to a four story brick building with a flashing sign, “Rooms for the Night”. The neon was out in the two oo’s. We parked around back and I went to the office. “No Credit Cards. Cash Only” glared at me in massive print from above the desk. Our host smelled slightly sour and he hadn’t been close to a razor in several days. I held up a fifty. He snatched it, handed me a key and settled back into a tired recliner patched with duct tape. “No loud noises, no kinky stuff,” he growled through the phlegm. I started up the stairs.
The room was surprisingly clean. A little heavy on the Lysol, but I was glad for it. The lady popped open the first bottle of MD and poured a full belt into a plastic cup. She offered it to me, then to Sunny, but we both declined. She gulped about half of it and refilled the plastic.
“BelleAmie. It means beautiful friend, but most of my clients don’t speak French too good. You can make it Amy for short.”
The dim light gave me my first chance to study her face. Her features were perfect, long aquiline nose, lips with just a hint of pout, an elegant chin and classic high cheekbones. Deep blue eyes . . . tired, but they still held a glint of youth and a tortured measure of joy long past.
“I see you starin’, Buster. Yeah . . . head cheerleader, homecoming queen. Every guy in town wanted in my pants, but I knew how to play them. Hell I was still a virgin at 18. I was smart. I knew I was gonna be a star. Graduated with honors on the south Jersey shore not far from Hampton Beach. First to New York. Met some people who promised me I was gonna make it. They just didn’t tell me what ‘it’ was. Came down here for a photo shoot on the beach. Then I found out I had to take my clothes off. I figured what the hell? It worked for Kim Kardashian.”
She looked over at Sunny. “You were in the game, weren’t you?”
Sunny nodded and pursed her lips. “I was lucky. I got out.”
“There’s something about us pros. I can always tell. I wish I was as lucky as you.” Amy hesitated. She put a finger to her mouth. I could hear the faint click of her teeth as she clamped them together. Her blue eyes darted around the room to make sure the walls weren’t closing in on her.
I changed my mind about the wine. It was sweet and churned in my gut, but I needed it to keep listening. Sunny said nothing else. She didn’t have to. Her face had turned a sick shade of gray. I guessed she was reliving some hellish nightmare. Something dark that tormented her, something she thought -- or at least wished -- she had forgotten.
“So now I’m a human pin cushion with a cunt that’s damned near worn out. There’s not much left, but Paul was a friend of mine. We used to shoot up together, but I think they killed him. Glen says I can trust you.”
“I thought you weren’t talking to him.”
“Well, he broke Oreo’s arm. The pimp is still in a cast, but it wouldn’t have happened if the bastard hadn’t hit me. Bad mistake. Glen fixed it. He’s my buddy . . . maybe the only one I got left.”
Sunny finally spoke. “So who’s the Boss Lady?”
“Anyone knows I talked to you guys, I’m dead. Might not be such a great loss. It’s just a matter of time. I got the horse running through my veins like it was the Belmont Stakes, but I still like breathing. I even like screwing sometimes. I have my regulars and they treat me good. Little presents sometimes. The Boss Lady? Yeah, I know her. Actually she’s a little beefy, but a hot bitch, has what you might call alternative sexual preferences. We went around a time or two.”
“So who is she?” Sunny asked.
“I’m not giving out names, but I bet you’ve seen her on T.V. That’s all I can do. Unless you want to press some flesh, get the hell out of here. I’m gonna drink and sleep. The first time I’ve had a night to myself in a long time. Never know when it might be the last one for a while.”
She slipped off the stilettoes and sat on the edge of the bed. Her feet were slim and elegant, high delicately curved arches that matched her long shapely legs, but the backs of her heels were chafed a fiery red, and the bone beside the big toe protruded. I placed two one hundred dollar bills on the night stand. She was snoring before we got out the door. I hoped she got some rest. I didn’t think we’d see her again.
On the way back to KAMALA, Sunny and I were silent, but we were feeling and thinking the same things. All I could do now was wait.