by Sells, W. G.
The Team
I sat watching as Peepers gazed at the group with loving eyes, like a proud father ready to introduce his children to an old friend. They lined up against the wall by the window.
“First off,” Peepers said, “is Queen Bee.”
Queen Bee was about twenty-five and wore a torn green tee-shirt, faded blue jeans and a pair of ratty boots. Her tattooed arms were a myriad of colors and shapes. She gave me a regal wave and smiled knowing I would get the joke.
“She doesn’t look very queenly,” Peepers admitted, “but her work is majestic.”
I started to ask what her work entailed, but she cut me off knowing I would ask.
“I do B&E without the E,” she said.
I looked at Peepers for a translation.
“Breaking and Entering,” he said, “but without the entering.”
“I’ll be doing the entering,” said the black man in coveralls next to Queen Bee.
“Let me introduce you first,” Peepers said with a touch of annoyance. “This is Cracker.”
I bit my tongue but not for long. “A black cracker?” I said, and smiled at the man.
“The best kind,” he said and winked.
“He is a safe cracker,” Peepers added.
“Trust me, he’s not safe,” said the youngest of the group standing next to Cracker. He looked like a child compared to the rest.
“Let me continue,” said Peepers. “BS is next.”
BS smiled at me nicely and then blew it. His immaturity radiated like a leaky diaper.
“Waddup, gorgeous,” he said. “You are too fine to be in any trouble. I know you are wondering what my nickname means…”
“Isn’t it obvious?” chided Queen Bee and got a chuckle from the rest.
“No,” said Peepers, “it isn’t, and I’m still doing the intros. BS gets his name from Beg, Borrow or Steal and he doesn’t borrow.”
“I don’t borrow,” assured BS.
“And he only begs when he gets caught,” added Cracker.
“Or when he wants…” Queen Bee started, but Peepers cut her off.
“Okay, and back to the intros. Mr. Freeze.”
Mr. Freeze stood next to BS. He bowed low, and I was temporarily blinded by the glare of the fluorescent ceiling light bouncing off of the bald center of his tonsure. Other than that, he looked to be in his early thirties, and was the best dressed of the group in suit and tie.
“After Queen Bee opens the good Senator’s house,” said Peepers, “and Cracker takes the contents of his safe (which we happen to know contains a lot of cash), and after BS slips the Senator’s wallet from his suit coat pocket, Mr. Freeze will take over. He will essentially “freeze” all of the target’s assets - which is pretty much what they did to you.”
“I see,” I said, and then turned to the two Hispanic-looking fellas next to Mr. Freeze.
“These are the brothers, Toe,” said Peepers. Meet Big and Little Toe.
“I’m Big Toe,” said the larger of the two with a smile. “Just in case you were wondering.”
“I was,” I said. “And you guys….?”
“We steal cars,” said Little Toe quickly, “with tow trucks.”
“Of course,” I said.
“They will take care of the Senator’s vehicles we don’t want him to drive,” said Peepers. “The one we want him to drive will have a little surprise inside.”
Next to the brothers was a skinny little Asian fellow with a big camera.
This is “Cheese,” said Peepers. “He’ll be taking more current pictures of the Senator with his mistress and…”
“And then,” interrupted the attractive brunette with the fake boobs next to Cheese, “I’ll show the pics to my new BFF, Gwen – the good senator’s wife that I met at the gym. Since we’ve been shopping buddies for a few months, I just can’t stand by and let her be humiliated by this beast any longer,” she said with feigned pain. “I also have a real estate friend who gave me a copy of the lease agreement for the suite the senator set up for his trysts.”
“You should be in the movies,” I said.
“She is,” said Peepers. “By the way, her film name is Racey Tracey, but we call her “Leech.”
“Leech the Beech!” said BS.
“Beg me some more, baby,” Leech said. “The answer is still no.”
“Whatever,” said BS.
“All right, kids,” said Peepers. “Off to work now.”
And with that they all waved goodbye and headed out the way they had come in.
Sis Boom Bah-bye
Three days passed. I had been staying in a hotel several blocks away from the Traverse office, and when I say “hotel,” I mean the whole hotel. I was a ghost guest of the cleaning staff. They shuttled me around from room to room to avoid management, guests, and other staff members who weren’t connected to the agency.
I was on the tenth floor the first afternoon; the fourth floor the first night; the third floor the next morning; the eighth floor the second afternoon, the fifth floor the second night, and was happily able to stay the third day and night in the same room on the seventh floor.
The peace and quiet was soothing. I woke up at eight and had just finished my complimentary room service breakfast, when there was a knock on the door. I peered through to see Scooter’s beaming smile.
“Time to go, beautiful!” he shouted through the door.
“I always go beautiful,” I said as I opened the door. I felt it too. Something had changed. From the outside everything was the same mess from a few days before, but on the inside I had a calm assurance that everything was going to turn out right.
Instead of disappearing like he did before, Scooter rode the elevator with me up to Mr. Peeper’s office. Inside were Tree, and the rest of the team. They were all smiling. I smiled too.
“Have a seat, Julie,” Peepers said. “Did you enjoy the musical rooms?”
“Yes, and especially the extra pillow mints. I love chocolate mint. I also have enough shampoo, conditioner, skin cream, and towels to make me the envy of the park bench fountain-bathing crowd.”
“You won’t have to do that ever again,” Tree said. “We hit the proverbial home run, Julie. As a matter of fact…”
“Let me tell her,” interrupted Peepers as the rest of them rolled their eyes and chuckled.
“You are such a control freak, Peepers,” I had to say. “But I love it. I love you all.”
“I knew you’d come around,” said BS.
“Shut up, BS,” said Queen Bee.
“Anyway,” Peepers continued, “we’re done and so is Senator John Hughes.”
There were a few whoo ha’s and a couple of high-fives.
“So, what happened?” I asked.
“Well it’s not quite finished yet,” said Peepers. “There’s the cherry on top that comes next, but for now, all you need to know is Hughes is ruined and you are vindicated and free to live without fear of reprisal. Your credit has been restored, your police record has been expunged, your car is outside and we set you up in a new apartment. I even have a job for you if you like.”
I sat there dumbfounded. I kept waiting for the “but” but it didn’t come.
“You mean…ah…you guys did what you planned to do, it worked and now it’s over? How did you…” I started to ask the million questions of how they pulled it off; how was Hughes ruined; how did they get all my life restored, but Peepers waved his hand and cut me off.
“Just accept that it’s done,” he said to me, and then turned to Cheese. It’s time for a picture, Cheese. Peepers came to my side (without touching) and Cheese snapped the photo. Peepers opened the side door and motioned everyone to leave.
I said goodbye to the team and to Scooter who said he would be waiting outside. I gave Tree a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. Peepers moaned.
“I’m glad it’s you,” he said.
“Me too,” said Tree, with a bit of a blush as he headed out the door.
Peepers sat down and motioned for me to sit as well. He pressed a button on his desk and the screen dropped down like it had done our first meeting. It was another live feed, but this time showed a tall, leggy, attractive woman sitting in a chair facing the camera. She must have realized we were watching and gave an exuberant wave to the camera.
“Who is that?” I asked.
“That is Sister Boom,” Peepers said. “She is the cherry on top.”
Peepers moved a dial on the desk and the video picture widened to include Senator John Hughes strapped face-first onto a table. His hands and feet were spread to the sides, his pants were pulled down to his ankles, and tape was across his mouth. He was sweating profusely and the look on his face was one of pure fear. Sister Boom smiled broadly, stood up and slid Hughes’ underpants down. It was then that she lifted her skirt and revealed that she had the same equipment as the man before her - only hers was perpendicular. I looked at Peepers.
“Do you want to watch?” he asked me.
“No, not really,” I said.
“Okay, then, will we see you on Monday?”
“Yes, you’ll see me on Monday.” I was going to ask him exactly what I would be doing, but Peepers attention was turned as Hughes received his punishment. I closed the door quietly behind me, and smiled. I had a feeling that Monday was going to be very interesting.
This Masquerade
[Previously in Traverse, Inc. – The first five chapters told the story of Julie Peters’ unfortunate encounter with Senator John Hughes, her loss of everything she owned and her subsequent introduction to Traverse, Inc. After the Cons-on-Call team exact their revenge on the Senator on Julie’s behalf, she has her life restored and is offered a job with them beginning the following Monday.]
I threw down a bagel with cream cheese and a glass of orange juice, and arrived a little early Monday morning, figuring I would need the extra time to get acclimated to my new surroundings. I had no idea how completely un-acclimated I would wind up being. I took the elevator to the nineteenth floor and stopped at the reception desk.
“Hi,” I said, not really knowing what to say. Mr. Peepers hadn’t given me any instruction on where I was to report or who I was to report to. I had simply assumed I would be working with him.
“Good morning,” said the receptionist, a perky brunette in her early twenties. “How can I help you?”
“It’s my first day of work here.”
“Oh, great!” she said. “What department?”
I shrugged and smiled. “I don’t really know,” I said. “I was hired by Mr. Peepers in suite nineteen sixty-eight.”
She hit a few buttons on her computer and scanned the screen. Her head rose up and then down and then shook from side to side.
“I don’t see a Mr. Peepers. What was that suite number?”
“Nineteen sixty-eight.”
“Are you sure? The numbers only go to forty-five.” She paused to look at me for a moment. The way she focused on my eyes made me wonder if she was checking me for signs of drug use, hangover, or mental imbalance. I smiled.
“I could be wrong,” I admitted, hopefully in a way that would disarm her. “The interview process was very…..intense.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” she said and smiled. “I remember mine.”
Yours was nothing like mine, honey. Now get me where I need to be.
“What is your name?”
“Julie Peters.”
“Peters…Peters,” she said while searching. She shook her head again. “We have a Chuck Peters and a Gwen Peters, but no Julie. Have you been downstairs to HR?”
Hmmm? Let’s see......I’ve been to Hell and then Heaven and now I’m in Purgatory, but HR well,…
“No.” I shook my head. HR sounded like a place to go when they know who you are. I figured they wouldn’t know me from Peepers. I tried one last thing.
“This is Traverse Incorporated, isn’t it?” I whispered.
Now she really looked at me like I was on drugs, and funny enough, I almost felt like I was.
“No, this is UTC – United Teleservices Company,” she said, and quickly grabbed an incoming call, seemingly and thankfully done with her need to help me.
I mouthed thank you and just for fun, I'll be back, and turned for the elevator.
My exhilaration over the weekend was fading quickly. I had true joy knowing the Hughes thing was behind me; having my car, cell phone, and checking account back, and getting settled into my new place. I had gone out shopping for new clothes and accessories, and spent way too much, but I justified the expense. Now I was thinking of returning everything and getting my money back.
The expectation of working with this crazy outfit had been the icing on the cake, but now the icing was melting and the cake didn’t seem to be cooked at all. It was nine-o’clock and I was right on time for nothing.
An instrumental version of Leon Russell’s “This Masquerade” was playing on the muzak as I rode the elevator down to the lobby. How appropriate, I thought, and was about to sing along when the music stopped and the speaker crackled. A familiar baritone voice piped through singing the lyrics badly. “We tried to talk it over, but the words got in the way.”
“Don’t quit your day job, Scooter,” I said, thinking, how can someone with such a soothing speaking voice sound so awful when he sings?
“Funny,” he said, and then cackled evilly when the elevator suddenly stopped between floors causing me to grab the railing. “I could keep you here and sing it over and over or we can get you to work. Which is best for you?”
“Work, please!” I shouted and held on as the elevator started again. Something in the movement felt funny so I glanced at the floor numbers. Sure enough, I was heading back up.
“Hold on,” Scooter said, as the elevator stopped again. “You ready for this?”
“I’m ready for anything,” I said, thinking he was talking about my new work. I started for the door, which was a huge mistake.
“No, you’re not,” he said with a chuckle, and then in an instant the elevator shot sideways, making me kiss the wall with my forehead.
“Ouch!”
“Told you,” he said.
“Are we going sideways?”
“You are. I’m standing still right…about…here.”
As soon as he said ‘here’ the elevator door opened to a grinning Scooter who stood opposite holding an iPad. He turned the device so I could see it. It showed a video of me hitting the elevator wall. Scooter was chuckling. I couldn’t even force a grin. I felt like someone who had been punk’d into believing they were being attacked by zombies, and people were shooting them in the head and I was trapped and out of bullets, and then the lights came on and the camera men were revealed and the director walked in and all the dead people got up and everyone started laughing….ha ha ha.
“Julie arrives for her first day of work,” he said, while holding up the video. “Ooh, new purse and shoes?”
“It’s not a purse, it’s a clutch,” I said, and punched him hard in the gut. “And they’re not shoes, they’re Gucci’s.” I punched him again and felt like ripping the iPad out of his hands and smashing it into pieces on his head, but all I managed to do was wrap my arms around his breathless body and hug him.
“Don’t worry,” he gasped, trying to find some air for his lungs. “Everybody has that ‘what the hell?’ look on their face when they arrive for their first day, though this is the first time I’ve been slugged or hugged, for that matter. Come on, champ, follow me.”
I followed Scooter down a long narrow hallway. There was no reception area, no offices or doorways of any kind, just a semi-lighted passageway ending with a wall that sported a huge poster of Teddy Roosevelt holding a high-powered rifle and standing next to a large dead deer. The words, ‘The Buck Stops Here!’ were written in marker across the top of the poster.
“Nice touch,” I said.
“We try.”
I watched as Scooter stood in front of the poste
r, smiled back at me and then pushed Teddy’s nose. A loud alarm bell began ringing and two gunshots sounded from behind the wall. I had to chuckle.
“Very funny,” I said.
“What?” he yelled, not being able to hear me over the din of the alarm.
“Very funny!” I screamed back.
“No, it’s not!” he yelled, and the look on his face told me the sound-effects were not part of the program.
