by Andrew Birch
“yeah well”, he tailed off, “Business been a bit hot recently. Had to relocate. See old Zimo got himself whacked?”
“yeah”, said Taylor sadly, “Knew Zimo since we was kids”.
“Zimo’s girl, huh?” he said smiling, “not any more. Guess you’re unemployed now huh?”
“I got this thing going in a bar”, she admitted, “running a book, credit cards, that sort of thing.”
“Thing is”, said Dawg, finishing off his bagel, “I got me a problem. Zimo was gonna lend me a nice girl, Alisha was her name? For a few jobs, that’s sort of thing. First one up at the state weigh station. Got a problem with one of my trucks”
“How the hell Zimo’s girl gonna help with that?” she asked.
“Well”, considered Dawg, “she was gonna be busy doing her ‘thing’ distracting the guy who runs that operation, while my guy takes back the truck that’s been so unfairly and unjustly impounded.”
“Unfair and unjust, huh?” Tay smiled, “that’s life buddy”
“Isn’t it just”, he nodded, “My pineapples are going off”
“Pineapples?” she asked.
“Indeed”, he nodded, “a truck loaded full of crates of pineapples. Fresh from the farm in the south”
“Why the hell you want pineapples?” she asked.
“Fruit is good for you”, he said mysteriously, “build the bones, assists the spirit in conquering the obstacles of the world. Oh, and the citric acid of the fruit hides the smell of the cocaine bags hidden inside each one. Sniffer dogs burn their poor little motherfucking noses out. Such a shame for them”
“And you got impounded?” laughed Tay, “so now you’re royally fucked?”
“I got impounded because of an idiot truck driver who had failed to renew his drivers licence”, dawg said ruefully, “now the truck is impounded. The paperwork to impound it will take three to four days, by which time my pineapples will be going off and giving away their secrets.”
“So, let me get this straight. You need a girl to distract the impound guy while some guy steals a truck full of pineapples, am I on the right lines there?”
“That’s about the size of it”, he admitted, “you up for it, Zimo’s girl?”
“hell yeah”, she said smiling, I need a good laugh. I can’t wait to see a dozen cop cars racing off up the hill after a pineapple truck. That should be a fucking hoot.”
“Not really”, he replied, “straight across from the weigh station, across the interstate is a small road leading out of the city. The driver will follow this, take a sharp left onto an access road and into a camp. From time to time, I use this area, you know what I mean. They’ll show the driver the way to go. No police will follow him.”
“Sounds like you might get your pineapples after all”, she said.
He nodded.
And just like that, yet another door opens. Life was beginning to give her opportunities. Dawg didn’t realise she’d never been ‘Zimo’s girl’ as she’d said. But now, if she played her cards right, she might end up in the employ of Dawg. She knew sometimes that these black gangsters liked to have a white blonde girl on their arm, she figured it was a racial thing, but didn’t know or care what. Money coming in was the most important thing, and a truck full of pineapples stuffed with cocaine was like having your own fucking printing press.
And so here she was, the day after, sat in a rental car supplied by Dawg, parked in the car park belonging to ‘Happy Al’s diner’. She was on the interstate, outside the city where the land was hilly and featureless, and covered with a kind of yellow grass. She’d grabbed a burger and a beer, retreating back to her car to eat and wait for the time, ignoring the hoots and cat calls. Course, the bikers that had descended on happy Al’s approved, no doubt of her sexy booty, bad girl looks and leather jacket but she didn’t have time to play with them today. Not that it wasn’t tempting. John was a good attentive lover, but sometimes she missed a bit of rough stuff. Now wasn’t the time, she chided herself. Maybe she could hop back up here some other time and get herself handcuffed to some handlebars. She shook her head again, boredom making her as horny as hell now. To while away the time, she lit up a spliff, and inhaled deep on the fumes, closing her eyes as the dope took effect.
Where the fuck was this guy? He was supposed to meet her just after noon, well it was after two now, and the guy was walking round the truck with the fucking dog, and looking like he might start fucking about the merchandise. The truck driver guy had to come to her, Dawg had given her the goddamed key to the semi. She tried to call dawg, but the cell was off. Fuck. The guy wasn’t coming, or if he was, he was gonna come too late. Sighing to herself she took a last slug of beer, finished her joint and got out of the car. The Interstate was a bitch to cross, and in the end, Taylor just shut her eyes and ran like fuck, narrowly missing being hit by a tour bus full of pensioners. Cursing the missed opportunity to moon the old fuckers as they stared at the gilr who had nearly killed herself on the road, she sauntered in through the open gate of the weigh station. The guyw as near the office, bent down petting the dog. His vehicle, a jeep, was parked next to the office. For a moment, she wondered whether or not to try to get the keys to the jeep, but at that moment, the guy noticed her and waved,
“Hello there?” he shouted, coming over, “this is private property. Sorry Ma’am”
“What” she shouted back, I can’t hear you sugar, I just came for ma daddies truck. He needs something big and hard to shove up my mammas ass to clear her backlog and them pineapples are perfect”
Smiling to herself, she unlocked the truck door with the key dawg had given her and jumped inside. A semi wasn’t a problem. She’d drove one before. Allen and her had once drove off in a garbage truck while high on crack one night. This was the same principle. Slab fronted, about seventeen years old, eighteen wheels. She slammed the door shut, turned the key, selected a gear and floored it.
It responded slower than a dead armadillo, and the guy was nearly up to her by the time she was out the gate,
“ma-am”, he banged on the door, “this vehicle is impounded. Stop immediately, you’re committing a felony”
“sorry sweetheart”, she shouted back, my mamma needs her pineapples” and gunned the semi-truck through the gate, feeling a sudden twinge of what? Pain? Something tugged at her strings at the word mamma. Something she’d never known.
“Can’t miss what you never had” she murmured.
Course one thing she had to miss was eight lines of traffic as she crossed the interstate, skidded and bounced the semi onto a side road at the side of Happy Al’s. She gave a friendly toot to the bikers, who waved at the crazy blonde chick in the fruit truck. Tay didn’t know how many cars had skidded to a halt and nearly collided behind her, and she didn’t care. Sure, she’d driven a truck before, but this fucker was just so big. With a wrench of metal, the tailgate of the trailer tore away the fence of Happy Al’s and sent in scattering into the road. Attempting to keep the thing on the right side of the road and avoid causing too much attention, she listened. No sirens yet. Thank fuck, this thing was slow. And old man in a fucking wheelchair could beat it up a hill.
At that point, Taylor’s phone rang. Risking life and limb and steering with one hand, she answered it. It was Dawg. Looking out the window, the cop guy was now in his jeep and she could hear sirens catching her. Shit.
“Hi dawg? How’s things?” she said airily.
“yeah”, he drawled, “ain’t too bad. Got some bad news though.”
“Speak up honey”, Taylor laughed, “I can’t hear ya for the damned cop sirens.”
“Cop sirens?” Dawg asked.
“yeah, ya know…nee naw nee naw” she answered. This fucker was getting closer. The road was on an incline, and the truck had been getting slower and slower. Thankfully, just as the road opened out, the hill finished and gave way to a steep drop. Hitting the gearstick into high, she gunned the rig and it tore down the incline.
“Why the hell a
re you bein chased by the cops?” Daw asked, his voice growing in irritation, “tell me you’re not in that goddamed truck”
“I could baby”, said Taylor, “But my mamma always told me never to tell no lies otherwise my nose would just grow and grow.”
“I called to tell you”, dawg sighed, “that the driver had been held up in traffic, but he was on his way.”
“It’s ok baby”, she laughed, “I’m on this. I’m just going down the hill on highway 19 past Happy Al’s”
“Then you’re on the right road”, he said, when the road flattens out, you come to a three way intersection, take the road straight on, and slightly to the left. Carry on until you’re level with the hill, then turn when you get to the storm cutting in the hillside”
“What’ll I do when I’m there”, she said?
“I got employees waiting”, he said, “that’s the rendezvous. This is all on you, Zimo’s girl. Don’t fuck this up.”
“baby”, she said, I got no intention of…”
But at that moment, she dropped the phone as the front tyre of the truck hit a pothole. She stamped on the brake, and felt the trailer begin to skid slightly. Back on the gas, she gunned the rig. Listening, she could still hear the siren. Maybe taken aback at the thing’s reckless speed, he had backed off. She smiled. He must be in the pic up thinking this bitch really wants these fucking pineapples. She passed the three way intersection doing about sixty five, missed the slow speed sign by inches, narrowly missed a Buick and sped on its way.
Tom and Marg were on their day off. He worked at Home depot, she worked at the DMV. Both in their early fifties, they weren’t married, but shared their days off, usually taking a sandwich up here into the hills outside the bustle of the city. Nice and quiet. That’s how tom liked life. He didn’t like it when the stupid bitch driving the semi-truck sped straight across a fucking stop sign, narrowly missing his car with her truck’s front fender.
“Fucking stupid bitch”, he shouted.
“language”, shrieked Marg, “I don’t know why you drive if you get so aggravated with trucks all the time”
“Did you see what she did, he began, “dumb bitch took out my…”
But what Taylor had taken out, Marg never knew. Because at that moment, the officer who had been in hot pursuit of the stolen pineapple truck hit them head on.
Far in front, Taylor heard a bang, but didn’t look back. This shit was easy. Baddass gangsta bitch job number two. This was more fun than a fucking video game. . Slowing the rig, she eventually found the entry to the concrete tunnel cut into the hillside, some kind of drainage thing, and guided the rig inside. She wondered what to expect. But now what she found. On the other side of the hill through the little tunnel, there were about ten of Dawgs men. And cars. And a smaller van.
One of the large back men knocked on her cab door,
“pineapple delivery for all you thirsty boys”, she drawled, popping on the aviator sunglasses she found behind the sun visor,
“You ain’t Tyler”, he said curtly,
“NO I ain’t”, she said a little indignantly, “for one thing I was on time. Tyler wasn’t on time. What kind of excuse is that anyway ‘caught in traffic’?
“All right baby”, he drawled, helping her out the cab, “keep yo panties on. We got this. Just chill and we’ll pack up your van.
She sat in the doorway of the truck, smoking another joint while the men got busy with the pineapples. There were about five crates of them inside the trucks trailer. Each pineapple had its top unscrewed, then the bag of blow was carefully removed before the pineapple was tossed back in the crate, emptied. After an hour, it was done, and she had a neatly packed up van full of bags of cocaine.
“Better drive this back real careful”, one of the men said, “lock up on 9th”
“yeah”, she said ruefully, looking at the van packed full of illegal class A drugs, “I reckon there’s about thirty years of jail time sitting right there”
“Sure thing, he said softly, thirty years for running a red a red light, baby. Take care of your ass. We’ll be right behind you.”
This had been a fun day. She was getting the old feeling back, the old top dog feeling. This was what she was meant to be. The ways these guys had looked at her, none of them would have dared walk into that compound and just drive off in an impounded truck. Maybe they were right, she was a little crazy, dropped on the head as a kid, who knew? This shit was fun. Dawg would be impressed. Maybe he was a contact she could use in the future?
Chapter 17. Smack, crack, but not quite bushwhacked
Increasingly happy with the way life seemed to be turning out, Taylor was on a bit of a roll. She kind of had a boyfriend, this time someone who cared for her in the form of Jack Mason. Not only that, she’d added the banknotes from the drug deal to her stash and had been saving the bag of blow for a special occasion. Dawg had paid her for the job she’d done with the melon truck too. Jack still didn’t know about the coke from the drug deal. That was the only problem. He didn’t like her taking blow, even though she was only an occasional user. He didn’t approve of it. That was her only ‘thing’ with Jack. Sometimes, she felt a bit like Horace the cat. Protected and in the process of being saved from the gutter. On her way to the top on Jack Mason’s coat tails. That was ok, but part of her wanted to rebel. She didn’t mind being saved from the gutter, but was ok with being in the gutter too. After all, she’d grown up there. No, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was the being protected bit, she imagined herself somehow wearing Versace dresses and gold heels and being wheeled out to go to parties and say nice things, and then be a good little girl at her sewing circle. Taylor was beginning to be convinced this was the way her life was heading. As yet, she didn’t know whether or not to mention this to Jack, or just to see what happened. She decided to have a girly night out with Justine, and so the two of them arranged it with Jack. He would mind the bar, and Tay and Justine would get a few drinks in an upmarket place in town, before taking in an after-hours club somewhere. There would be plenty of chance to have a girly chat. Justine was a nice girl, responsible, although she tended to have become old before her time, at least in her mind. She was on the way to buying her own apartment, had a sensible car and worried about the government and her retirement. Justine only had one problem, as far as Taylor could see. That was her taste in men. Her prison officer brother had seen the last under achiever off, but Justine was attracted to bad boys, there could be no denying that fact. Taylor had learned her lesson as far as bad boys were concerned, with Allen, her former lover. In a few idle moments, she wondered where Allen was. In some ways, he had excited her more than Jack did. Jack was fun, but he was so in control, and knew the answers to fucking everything. Soon it became time to set off for town. Jack insisted on closing the bar for a half hour, and taking the two of them in the car to the upmarket bar where they were going to drink. Taylor felt ridiculous. Justine had, in her sensible way, insisted that the pair of them dress for the occasion. Taylor, normally being one to wear her biker jacket and ripped jeans, balked at the idea of a dress, indeed she didn’t even own one, but one was found for her, a black figure hugging one that showed up every inch of her slim athletic frame. Justine, also wearing a sexy dress, had insisted on the dressing up. She feared Taylor in her grungy biker gear would end up being headed for a rowdy rock bar, and end up in fights with drugs and stuff that Justine didn’t fancy at all. Justine liked the blonde, the two of them were friends, but sometimes Taylor would be a little too exciting for her. She didn’t have that thing in her brain that normal people have that tells them ‘too much’. No, Justine didn’t think Taylor had that little nagging voice at all, she would just carry on until bad things happened. Well, Justine thought, not tonight. No bad things, just fun chat, a good dance and get a little tipsy with her new girlfriend.
Taylor had Jack drop them at the street corner, feeling suddenly like one of those stupid girls that had a protective father. Justine clattered down
the sidewalk in her heels. Taylor hadn’t fancied wearing heels, it somehow reminded her of her once prized red wedges that had worn out years before, so she was wearing a pair of smart black flats to go with the black dress, and a purse to match. Unknown to Justine, inside the purse was the bag of blow that Taylor had saved for a special night out. Well, this was a special night out.
It had been a while since Taylor had done this. It was maybe the first time ever. As far back as she could go, she couldn’t ever remember having a female friend or confidante. Justine was nice, maybe a little sensible, but hey, Taylor was a little flighty, so she guessed the two would kind of balance each other out. They ordered a couple of beers and sat down in a booth. Guys were watching them already, but that wasn’t why they came out, and Tay knew she had this look, the evil tiger like look that tended to put them off. Tay didn’t know how to do small talk, so they just sat quiet at first and drank their drinks, until Justine began talking about their own bar and some of the customers.
“I swear”, she said to Tay, “it was right there on his phone. A picture of his own knob”
Tay laughed,
“What the actual fuck”, she said sipping her drink, “who the hell takes a picture of their genitals on their cell phone?”
“And why show it to me? I hadn’t even eaten.”
“Guess the sausages were off the menu huh?” shot back Tay.
Only the tiny ones”, laughed Justine.
“Ugh”, laughed Tay again, “I guess I wouldn’t mind if it was something to be proud of, but a little itty bitty thing…no screw that, I don’t ever want to see that in an album of family snapshots.”
They laughed. That broke the ice. Justine asked Tay about prison, and how she was coping with life on the outside. That had been a good question. Tay didn’t know. It was ok, everything was going fine, she had a job, and let’s face it, someone with her record would be grateful of any kind of job. Plus, she had Jack and a place to live. Hell, she considered, life was better than it ever had been. She almost felt like a regular person. She told Justine that, and the other woman smiled.
