Caught in the Crotchfire

by Kim Hunt Harris

  “You can’t — can’t work at my grandmother’s motel.”

  “You wanna watch?” Then she laughed. “Actually, you can, but it’s extra.”

  “Ewww!” Viv said.

  The door slammed.

  I pulled my phone out of my pocket. “Windy, call Bobby Sloan with the Lubbock PD.”

  “You’re calling the cops?”

  “Of course I am. There is an actual crime in progress right now.”

  “Eww,” Viv said again. “Stop.”

  “Sloan,” Bobby said when he answered the phone.

  “Bobby, there is a prostitute working at my G-Ma’s motel right now.”

  “Well, I’ll be,” he said flatly.

  “Are you going to do something?”

  As I spoke, another pickup pulled up, this one small, and a man about as thin as the last one had been fat got out, and opened the door for a woman wearing skinny jeans and a tank top. They went into the room two doors down from us.

  “Bobby, this place is crawling with — with chicas,” I whispered into the phone.

  “Is this the place out on Clovis Highway?”

  “Yes,” I said. “You remember it. You’ve been here before.” Once when I was fourteen, I’d been staying with G-Ma, and Bobby had come in to get a room for him and some girl from Idalou. I had cried for a solid week and scratched ‘Salem Sloan’ and ‘Mr. and Mrs. Bobby Sloan’ out of the margins of all my school papers.

  A couple came out of the room next to us and walked toward an old boat of a car parked near Viv’s new Caddy.

  I gaped, then gave Viv a look, like, “Can you believe this?!”

  Before the motel room door could close all the way, I stuck my foot in and held the door.

  “Get a forensics team out here ASAP,” I ordered Bobby. “I’m going to preserve the evidence.”

  The room was as old and depressing as all of the rooms, made more so by the rumpled sheets on the bed. I did not want to think about what was on those sheets. While we waited for the cops, I called G-Ma.

  “Where are you?” she said. “We’re going to be late.”

  “G-Ma, I think there is a prostitution ring using your motel as its base of operations.”

  “There most certainly is not.”

  “I think so. There was a couple here just a minute ago.”

  “Them? They come in all the time. They’re just a couple in love, cheating on their spouses.”

  “Just?” I said. “How is that okay?”

  “Who am I to judge?” G-Ma said with a sniff. “Who are any of us?”

  “G-Ma, the point is, I seriously think they’re prostitutes. I called Bobby Sloan — ”

  “You called the cops!? Are you serious!?”

  “Yes, I did. You need to know — ”

  “I don’t need to know anything! I don’t need to know the personal lives of all my customers! All I need to know is whether or not they can pay their bill, and these girls pay their bills.”

  I looked at Viv. “Oh my gosh. I think she knows already.”

  “You did notice that not one of these girls has checked in at the front desk.”

  I had not noticed that, but Viv was right. As I watched out the window, another vehicle pulled up, straight to the room. The girl already had a key.

  “She can’t be in on it,” I said. “Can she?” I put the phone back up to my ear. “You can’t possibly be on on this, G-Ma. That makes you, like, a madam or something.”

  “It makes me nothing of the sort. All I am and all I have ever been is a business owner.” Then she gasped. “Oh my god! It’s the pigs!”

  Two patrol cars pulled up.

  I hung up the phone. “Calling Bobby might have been the wrong decision,” I said.

  Things went quickly downhill from there. Motel doors were flung open, there was lots of girl screeching and men bellowing. One man cried. G-Ma got stompy and said something to Viv, who said something back, and before I knew it they were both in handcuffs. A white van pulled up, and while I was trying to explain which ones were the prostitutes and which ones weren’t, I ended up in handcuffs, too.

  “I’m not a hooker!” I shouted at the cop.

  “Me either,” said the hooker sitting beside me in the van.

  “But seriously,” I said. “I am a — a granddaughter.”

  “Me too,” the hooker said. “Let me out of here, I gotta grandma.”

  I shut up then, intent on making sure Bobby Sloan paid for this.

  We were booked and fingerprinted, then put into a holding cell.

  “I want to speak to Bobby Sloan,” I said to the officer who shut the door behind us.

  Bobby took his sweet time getting there. It was as if he had another job to do.

  He looked delighted to see me, though. Behind bars.

  “Salem. Oh, and look! It’s Viv, too. “ He laughed and clapped, looking back over his shoulder as if to give whoever was back there an ovation. “I heard you two were picked up for soliciting.” He stopped as if to take in the scene.

  “You know we don’t belong here,” I said hotly. “I’m the one who called it in.”

  “You what?” The girl who sat beside me in the van now raised up from where she’d been leaning against a wall. “You what?”

  “I didn’t call it in,” I said. I turned to Bobby and hissed through clenched teeth. “Get me out of here.”

  Viv took one look at the girl who was now breathing steam in very near proximity to my neck and decided to launch her own form of defense.

  “Mommy, are we still going to the circus?” she asked in a creepy imitation of a little girl voice.

  G-Ma sat on a metal bench, her legs crossed, one foot tapping the air furiously. She set her laser-beam glare on a rotating schedule between me, Viv and Bobby, then back to me. She seemed to bear no animosity for the girls who were conducting illegal activity on her premises.

  “Seriously, Bobby, you have to get us out of here. Do you have any idea how much trouble I’ll be in if I’m arrested again? I’m off probation in two weeks. Two weeks!”

  “But, you already were arrested. That’s why you’re in here. Back up, Felicia,” he said to the girl who, I noticed, had an alarmingly well-developed upper body.

  Felicia didn’t even consider backing up. She looked down her nose at me with a sneer and sniffed. “You. What?”

  “Bobby, you know this is wrong. Even a jerk like you knows that this is too far for a joke.”

  Bobby leaned forward. “I’m sorry, a what like me?”

  “I mean, you know, it’s funny and all, but this could get serious real quick. This has serious consequences. I’m just now getting out of trouble for my actual misdeeds. I don’t want to get back in over something I didn’t even do.” I had to latch onto my self-control real quick, because my voice shot up and I realized I was going to cry if I didn’t shut up. I could not cry in front of Bobby and I could not cry in front of these women. Only Felicia looked dangerous at the moment, but I imagined they could all become like sharks with blood in the water if I showed any weakness.

  “Please,” I begged. So much for not showing weakness.

  Viv stepped close to the bar. “Listen to me, Officer.” Her voice was clipped and her eyes flashed. “I will have your badge before this is through.” Like a scene straight out of a weekly cop drama.

  I was beginning to learn Viv’s looks, though. She was pretending to be mad, but she was actually loving every minute of this. She could afford to. At her age, she could become an internet sensation overnight for being arrested for prostitution. She could afford bail and a good lawyer, and she could spin it all into a good joke by the time she was through. She’d probably end up on The Ellen Degeneres Show or something.

  Me, I would end up with fines I couldn’t pay, another couple years of weekly probation visits, and go on peeing in a cup every couple of weeks.

  And I had been so close to freedom!

  Bobby looked at Viv with exaggerated concern. “Care
ful, ma’am. Don’t go having any heart attacks or anything.”

  That might have been a cruel thing to say, except Viv did fake a heart attack one time to trick Bobby into giving us information. I think he was still a little annoyed that we’d gotten the best of him on that murder case. And on the next one. That solving both cases had been complete accidents really didn’t seem to be stroking his ego any.

  “Oh, believe me, I feel one coming on. And it’s going to be a doozy. Six figures, at least.” Then she looked around the room and remembered she was supposed to be a bit delicate in the head. She gave a simpering laugh. “Let’s play hopscotch.”

  “Harley!” Bobby called over his shoulder. “I think we need to call psych eval back here!”

  I stepped between them. “Okay, look, you two. Let’s not make this any bigger than it needs to be. Bobby, you’ve had your fun. You know we don’t belong in here.”

  “I don’t belong in here, either.” Felicia crossed her arms and glared at me. Like I could do anything about it!

  My insides quaked. I looked at Bobby. “Maybe Felicia doesn’t need to be in here either. And you know Viv and G-Ma for sure don’t need to be in here. Look at G-Ma, Bobby. She’s about to blow a gasket. She hasn’t done anything. She didn’t know what those girls were doing.” God, please tell me she did not know what those girls were doing. Please?

  Out of reflex, I looked up at Felicia, hoping she didn’t dispute me.

  Felicia didn’t say anything. I risked a glance over at G-Ma, who might as well have had a stormy black cloud over her dyed-crimson hair. The other girls who’d been brought in with us looked mostly bored. While I watched, one stretched out and said, “Wake me up when it’s time to go.”

  Bobby crossed his arms over his chest and put one hand to his chin. “Now, tell me again what happened. Start from the beginning.”

  Felicia blinked and waited.

  I swallowed. “I — um, well I’m sure I don’t know. We were just getting ready to pick up G-Ma to go to Amarillo, and all of a sudden there were cops everywhere and we were being arrested.” Something occurred to me, something that I had seen from a weekly cop drama. “Hey, aren’t you supposed to have some kind of — some kind of cause to arrest us? Like, you have to hear an actual offer of sex for money or something. I think there’s a rule, right?” I turned to the girls. “There’s a rule?”

  “There’s a rule,” the one lying on the bench said, her eyes still closed.

  I tried to remember if anything I’d said, anything any of us had said, could be misconstrued as an offer of sex for money. All I could remember, though, was outrage and Viv and G-Ma at each other’s throats and general pandemonium.

  I chewed my lip and studied Bobby. “You know what, Bobby? I don’t think they really had a right to arrest us. I think this is a false arrest.” Was that a thing? I wish I had Windy here to ask her.

  “You think?” Felicia asked. She gave Bobby the side-eye.

  “You think?” Bobby asked. His brows drew down in exaggerated concern. “Gosh. That’s really bad. Let me go talk to the guys and see what they have to say.” He strolled to the end of the hallway, then turned around and came back, his key already out. “Looks like you’re right. You’re free to go.”

  He opened the gate while I glared at him, outraged. The woman on the bench groaned and said, “Man. I can’t never catch fifteen minutes to get some rest.” She hauled herself up with effort and stumbled after the others.

  Viv fell into line with the working girls and G-Ma and I brought up the rear. I was so freaked out that I didn’t even know what to say. He really had brought us in on absolutely nothing but my phone call. Could this be legal? Should I really call a lawyer?

  The three women and Viv were discussing how they were going to get back to the motel so they could pick up their vehicles. Viv said she’d call a cab for the three of them.

  “G-Ma and I can come in another one,” I said.

  “Not so fast,” Bobby said, his hand on my shoulder. “You and your G-Ma need to just cool it here for a few minutes.”

  Bobby showed us into his office, then closed the door and sat down behind his desk. “So, was that fun?”

  “What is wrong with you?” I hissed. “Is this your idea of a joke?”

  “This is my idea of a warning.” He looked hard at G-Ma. “We’ve been hearing rumors about your place, but we haven’t had a chance to set up an operation yet. But what you just saw this morning — that’s how it will go down. Quick and painful. Except it won’t end with you going home with your granddaughter next time.”

  G-Ma looked mad enough to spit blood. “You have no right — ”

  “If I did what I have a right to do, you’d be in jail right now. It wouldn’t take much to set up a sting and get you roped in good and tight. You’re not a foolish woman. You’ve run that place for a long time and never got into trouble before. You don’t want to go blowing it all now.”

  “I don’t want to lose it all to the Bandits now, either, but who’s going to stop that from happening? You’re sure as heck not doing anything about it!”

  His lips flattened and he gave a short nod. “Believe me, we’re working on it.”

  “That’s all we’ve been hearing for weeks. Working on it. How hard is it — ”

  “How about we focus on the matter directly in front of us for the time being? You — ” He pointed at G-Ma. “You need to watch yourself. Run a clean business. These Bandits are going to be caught and things are going to be back to normal. You don’t want to be left with a rough trade you can’t get rid of.”

  I sat looking back and forth between them, trying to keep my jaw from dropping. Suddenly, I was struck by the memory of watching black and white TV with G-Ma at the motel. That old western, Gunsmoke, was one of her favorites.

  My G-Ma was Miss Kitty, the madam. She even had the poofy red hair.

  And Bobby probably would not have minded being compared to Marshall Dillon. He knew he was hot, and he had his share of authoritarian swagger. I would gladly have sucker punched him in the gut for locking us in that cell, if I didn’t know that (1) it would probably hurt my fist more than his rock hard abs, and (2) he would put me back in the cell, for real this time.

  I was also weirdly grateful to Bobby. Maybe he had protected G-Ma from a real arrest. He probably could have found a way to do it without rounding me and Viv up, too, but still.

  He let us go with one more finger-pointing at G-Ma, then had a patrolman drive us back to the motel.

  G-Ma was silent on the ride back, her mouth chewing over something that wasn’t there. I occupied myself by looking at my phone and trying not to think about how mad Mom was going to be at us for being late to her Very Important Brunch.

  Chapter Four

  Road Trippin’

  Viv was all smiles when we got out of the patrol car. “You two ready?”

  I turned to G-Ma, expecting her to come up with a few more procrastinations, but she just frowned and moved, head down, toward Viv’s Crystal Frost Cadillac.

  Dora waved from the motel window, and G-Ma lifted one hand slightly in reply, then yanked open the back door. “Let’s get going,” she said.

  As I suspected, Viv was pumped up from the morning’s adventures. “I’ll tell you one thing, the Lubbock jail could use a fresh coat of paint! That was a disgrace. Not to over-share, but I’ve seen the inside of jails in Cleveland, New York City, Oklahoma City, Los Angeles, and Las Vegas. You’ll never believe which one was the nicest. Go on, guess.”

  Yep, she was prepping for Ellen. “Which one?” I said.

  “Cleveland!” She slapped her thigh and laughed. “Can you believe it? Vegas was the worst, of course, but Lubbock wasn’t much better. The vomit smell wasn’t quite as strong, but I could still smell it. Need new paint and some disinfectant in that place.”

  G-Ma was on the phone in the back seat, alerting Mom to our delay. I checked my phone. Exactly one hour behind schedule. Not bad, considering everythin
g that had transpired.

  “Did you tell her what happened?” I asked.

  “Of course not. She’s around her fancy new friends. What’s that dinging noise?” G-Ma grumped from the backseat.

  “Yep, I remember when they put ATMs in the jails,” Viv said as if she hadn’t heard, swinging the Caddy off the Loop and onto the Interstate.

  She had to have heard, though. Now that G-Ma brought it up, I could hear an occasional ding, too.

  Viv sailed down the ramp and onto the Interstate. “Gosh, ATMs. I remember the first time I used one of those, too. Felt like something from a space movie, you know? Money, right out of the machine. Crazy.”

  Ding.

  “What is that?” G-Ma shouted.

  Viv shook her head. “Hmmm…what? Did you say something?”

  “I said, what is that dinging sound?”

  “Dinging sound? What dinging sound?”

  Ding. Ding ding. Ding.

  “That dinging sound,” G-Ma said. “Oh, I’m sorry. You probably have some hearing loss at your age. There’s a dinging sound — ”

  “My hearing is just fine, thank you!” Viv snapped. “I hear the dinging sound. You are probably unaware of some of the technological innovations of the last decade or so.” She tapped the steering wheel with a satisfied look. “That, my friend, is state of the art technology right there.”

  “But for what?” I asked. I had suspicions of something quietly going horribly wrong under the hood, and the ding was probably supposed to alert us to this malfunction. But we didn’t know what it was and we’d only find out when we were in the middle of the desolate prairie between Lubbock and Amarillo and the Caddy burst into flames.

  “For the optimum driving experience, of course.” Viv gave me a look that said she questioned my intelligence.

  Ding.

  It wasn’t as if there was any set rhythm to the dings. Or, I noticed as we hurtled down I-27, a set volume. If I strained, I could hear a series of short, soft beeps. Then a louder one. Then nothing. Then three long beeps.

  “It sounds like some sort of Morse code,” G-Ma said. “State of the art, my —”

  “It’s not Morse code!” Viv narrowed her eyes and said into the rear view mirror. “It’s — it’s actually a new technology, a kind of — of subliminal technique to induce a feeling of calmness and clarity for the driver.”