No Such Thing as a Free Ride

by Shelly Fredman

  I’d talked a good game about finding Cyrstal a safe place to stay, but I had no idea where to start. If retribution on the streets was as harsh as she’d described, I couldn’t put my friends in jeopardy by having her stay with them. Besides, Crystal wasn’t exactly what you’d call easy to be around. Bunny knew where I lived, so that ruled out my place … which left me with one choice, and I’d already imposed on him enough… so, what’s one more favor, right? I’d make the call in the morning.

  As it turned out it wasn’t necessary. Nick called at 7:00a.m.

  “Did I wake you?”

  Well, speak of the devil. I was just lying here making passionate love with you in my head. “No, you didn’t wake me. What’s up?”

  “I got a call from Raoul’s brother, Octavio. He has a friend who recognized Star from her photo, and she agreed to talk to you for a little monetary compensation.”

  “How does she know Star?”

  “Seems they shared the same employer.”

  “She works for Little Red?”

  “Unfortunately. The guy’s a real sweetheart. A couple of months ago he thought she was holding back some of her night’s profits so he threw acid on her leg. Told her next time it would be her face. Scarred her up pretty good. And scared her enough to want to get out of town. She’ll talk to you for the price of a ticket back to Georgia.”

  The mental image that accompanied Nick’s words seared my insides.

  Crystal had said Little Red was mad that Star had disappeared on him. Could that have been just an act to cover up the fact that he’d done something to her?

  “This young woman mentioned seeing Star get into a silver van a while back,” Nick continued, “and she hasn’t seen her since.”

  “When was this?”

  “It could’ve been last week, it could’ve been last month. Street time is hard to pin down.”

  “So did Octavio say how I can get in touch with his friend?”

  “You got a pen?”

  I grabbed a pen and a pad of paper off the nightstand.

  “Her name is Harmony Valentine.”

  “For real?” Like I have room to talk with a name like Brandy Alexander.

  “As real as it gets on the streets, darlin’.”

  I thought for a minute. “When Harmony saw Star climb into the van, was she close enough to I.D. the driver?”

  Nick laughed. “In a manner of speaking. She said, and I quote, ‘All those white assholes look alike.’”

  “Then I guess it’s too much to hope for a license plate, huh?”

  “Normally, yes. But this was a vanity plate so it stuck in her head. SLIMEY 1.”

  Wow. How appropo was that?

  He recited Harmony’s phone number for me along with the obligatory reminder to be careful.

  “Um, Nick, there’s just one more thing. There was something on the news last night about Bunny.”

  “I’ve already heard, Angel. Looks like Crystal’s going to need a safe house for a while. I’ll put in a call to Sal. I’m sure he’d be willing to take her.”

  Sal, AKA Father Salvador Domingo is Nick’s childhood friend, the yin to his yang and the head honcho at a parish in the badlands.

  “I really owe you, Nick.”

  “You don’t owe me a thing, darlin’. Glad to help.”

  I hung up and jumped in the shower. I was exhausted, having slept a total of about four minutes. I hadn’t dared open my bedroom window last night on the off chance that Bunny decided to hop on by (I make God-awful puns when I’m stressed) and my bedroom was like a sauna.

  Rocky was sitting in the bathroom sink waiting for me when I got out of the shower. I’ve tried to teach her about personal space, but she’s not too good with the concept, so I brushed my teeth and spit in the toilet so’s not to disturb her.

  Since I wasn’t scheduled to work today, I pulled on a pink wife-beater undershirt and some ripped jeans, ignored the dark circles under my eyes and headed downstairs.

  Crystal was awake and playing with the dog. They both stopped when they saw me and followed me into the kitchen. She sat down at the table and began fiddling with a bowl of wax fruit my mother bought for me the last time she came to visit. My mother is big on things that don’t spoil, need watering or have to be replaced. I took a box of Cheerios out of the cupboard and set it on the table. Then I filled her in on my conversation with Nick.

  Crystal absently rubbed her teeth against her tongue stud. “Look, if you want to tell the cops about Bowen being Star’s case worker, fine. And you can tell them that Bunny had it in for Star. That’s common knowledge on the street anyway. But don’t go shooting your mouth off to them about anything that Harmony Valentine bitch says about Little Red. Because if it turns out that Star is really okay and the cops start hassling her pimp, he’ll kill her.”

  “But if she knows something and Star’s in trouble, then what?”

  “Can’t you check it out? I mean isn’t that your job?”

  My job is to dress up like cauliflower and host the Lehigh Valley Summer Veggie Festival. But somehow that didn’t seem quite as professional.

  “Okay,” I told her. “I’ll see what I can do. But if I find out anything that would indicate this guy is involved in Star’s disappearance, I’m going straight to the cops.”

  She didn’t argue the point which relieved me no end. Teenagers are hard work.

  “Your mom called while you were in the shower.”

  “Um, you answered the phone?” I pulled out a bag of dog food from under the sink and began to fill Adrian’s bowl.

  “Yeah. She asked to speak to you but I told her you were busy turning tricks and you’d get back to her.”

  “You what?” I spun hard and kibble flew out of the bowl rolling in every direction on the kitchen floor. Rocky appeared out of nowhere and began pouncing on them like tiny round mice.

  Crystal laughed. “I’m kidding. I didn’t even pick up the phone. She left a message. I didn’t know you had a brother. She wants you to call him… What’s a ‘J Date’?”

  *****

  I dropped Crystal off at Frankie’s gym on the pretext of him needing help cleaning out a storeroom. I figured it would be tough for anyone to get to her in a gym full of sweaty, iron-pumping boxers, and my uncle would make sure she stayed out of trouble. To insure that she wouldn’t balk at the idea, I told her he’d pay her ten bucks an hour.

  “Ten bucks? Really?” Frankie said. “That’s a hell of a lot more than I used to pay you to keep you out of trouble.”

  “That’s okay, Uncle Frankie, mom made up for it by slipping me an extra fiver to keep my eye on you.”

  I swung by the police station on the way back from the gym. Bobby was at his desk talking to someone on the phone. I could tell by the relaxed way he was smiling and nodding that it was a personal call.

  I stood by the door but he didn’t invite me in. Instead, he held up his index finger in the universal sign for “hang on a minute” and kinda hunched over his desk, his voice dropping to a whisper.

  I’ll bet he’s talking to a girl! Oh, fine. He’s entitled. After all, he’s a free agent… is it my imagination, or do his eyes seem bluer, his dimples more pronounced, the muscles beneath his Oxford shirt with the rolled up sleeves more… more… muscley?

  There must’ve been something wrong with those Cheerios I ate for breakfast, because I got a sudden sick feeling in my stomach and I didn’t feel much like talking to Bobby anymore. In fact, for some inexplicable reason, I felt like strangling him. I turned to leave.

  “Yo, Brandy, wait up. I’ve got to go,” he mumbled into the phone. “I’ll catch you later.”

  He hung up and motioned me forward.

  “Are you sure?” I asked, and if looks could kill I’d be talking to a corpse. “I mean I wouldn’t want my police business to interfere with your personal phone call.”

  “What crawled up your butt this morning?” He was smiling, which made it worse.

  “Bite me.”<
br />
  DiCarlo leaned back in his chair, his smile widening. “Think I’ll leave that to your new boyfriend. I heard he’s back in town.”

  “FYI Nick’s not my boyfriend, although I do find it interesting that you bother to keep tabs on him. Jealous?”

  “Strictly professional curiosity, Sweetheart. It’s my job to know what the criminal element is up to.” Before I could get in a good one about his current dating status he called a truce.

  “Brandy, let’s just admit it’s weird for us to think of each other going out with someone else. Okay? I’ll start. I hate it. Especially knowing you have real feelings for this guy. And if he hurts you I’ll kill him. But I respect your right to move on in your life. Now, is there anything you want to say to me?”

  “Your fly is open.”

  Bobby automatically glanced down.

  “Made you look.”

  He straightened up, blushing. “You’re a piece of work, y’know that?”

  “So I’ve been told. Listen, Bobby, I really did come here for a reason. I have some information you may find helpful in the Olivia Bowen case.”

  “Yeah?” He was all business now. As much as DiCarlo had always tried to discourage me from getting involved in police matters, he trusted my instincts and recognized my ability to get the job done—no matter how ineptly I went about it.

  He opened his desk drawer and extracted a notebook and pen. “What have you got?”

  I started at the beginning, leaving out only the part about Little Red, because I’d promised Crystal I’d check that out myself.

  “So where is this girl, Crystal, now?” Bobby asked when I was finished. “I’m going to need to talk to her.”

  “She’s—unavailable.”

  The pulse in Bobby’s temple flared and throbbed and I knew I was skating on thin ice.

  “Look, Bobby, you’ve said it yourself. To kids in Crystal’s position, cops are the enemy. I’ve told you everything she’s told me. If you try to talk to her she’ll run or stonewall you, and what good will come of that? Just give me a few days to try and convince her you can be trusted. Okay?”

  “Do I have a choice?” By the resigned way he tossed his pen onto the desk, I knew it was strictly a rhetorical question.

  I got up and walked around to his side of the desk and laid a kiss on his cheek. “Thanks.”

  “Piece of work,” he muttered, shaking his head.

  *****

  Harmony Valentine was all of 20 years old, but she looked like she was pushing 40. Freebase cocaine had taken its toll on both her youthful appearance and her attention span. She sat across the table from me, tapping out an erratic rhythm with dirty, chipped nails, her eyes darting back and forth, her foot swinging in perpetual motion, interrupted only by the occasional, unintentional kick to my shin.

  We were seated in a back booth at Mondo’s, an airless, roach-infested eatery that was, apparently, invisible to health inspectors. There was a slightly used napkin sitting on the table when we sat down. The server glanced at the napkin and threw a fork on top of it, handing me a greasy menu. It was filled with color photos of plastic-looking food that looked about as appetizing as fake dog poop.

  “Um,” I said, looking first at the napkin and then back at the server. He stared at me, daring me to complain. “Gee, everything looks so delicious I hardly know what to order.” I put down the menu and flicked a roach off the table while Harmony decided between the egg salad on rye and chicken fried steak.

  She settled on the steak and then with sudden ferocity reached under the table and yanked up her pant leg, demanding I take a look at Little Red’s handiwork.

  “Sonuvacocksuckingbitch put me in the hospital. Said I hadn’t shown him the proper respect. My leg got infected so bad they thought they was gonna have to cut it off.”

  She sneezed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand, leaving some goop on the tip of one nostril. I stifled the urge to heave and slid a napkin across the table, hoping she’d take the hint. She didn’t.

  “So, Harmony, Octavio said you had some information about Star.”

  “Who?”

  Unh! This was not going well. “Star,” I repeated, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice. “Remember, that’s why we’re here. You’re going to tell me what you know.”

  “You gonna pay me?”

  “Yes. I’m going to pay you. But first you have to give me some information.”

  “It’s like I told Octavio. I saw her last week or somethin’ gettin’ in a van with a funny license plate, and I ain’t seen her since.”

  “Why’d you think the license plate was funny?”

  “Cuz it spelled out SLIMEY 1. Now why would anyone want to brag about that?”

  “Do you remember the date or what day of the week it was?”

  “Now how would I know that? Do I look like I carry around a calendar with me? All I know is all the nuts were out that night. Must’ve been the full moon.”

  She leaned across the table, dropping her voice to a whisper. “That Star ho was Little Red’s favorite. But she start talking like she gonna quit him and he say he gonna take her outta the box.”

  “Outta the box?” I asked, hoping it was just a colorful way of saying he accepted her resignation.

  To illustrate her meaning she sliced her index finger across her throat. “I’m gettin’ out of this muthafuckin’ town soon as I get enough money to get on a airplane.”

  Her eyes strayed to the dessert case. “I want some pie,” she announced, as if we’d been discussing dessert all along. “They got any blueberry?”

  I tried to keep her focused but it was like trying to catch bits of Styrofoam in a strong wind. “Listen,” I said, motioning the server over. “Did you personally ever see Little Red get rough with Star? Or threaten to kill her?”

  Harmony thought for a minute. “I don’t remember. Like I said, she was his favorite, so maybe she got away with shit none of the other girls could get away with. But Star brought in a lot of money, and he told everybody that she’d be needing a lesson in loyalty if she even thought about leaving.”

  She grabbed a menu off the table next to us and read aloud. “Says here they got babble pie. What the fuck kind of pie is that?”

  “Um, I think they meant apple.” She shrugged and ordered a slice.

  Harmony’s revelation put Little Red at the top of my “to do” list. The thing is I didn’t know what that list entailed. Did I go to the cops with this alleged threat on Star’s life—a girl who hasn’t even been officially declared missing? I could try the direct approach—find the guy and ask him myself, but that didn’t seem the most prudent choice.

  Hey, maybe I could pretend to interview him for a segment on Pimp Fashion Wear. “My, what a lovely fedora, and by the way, did you happen to axe your employee, in the most literal sense of the word?”

  “Harmony,” I began, but her attention was elsewhere. She probably saw a squirrel.

  Abruptly, she stood and slid out of the booth. “I got to get back to work,” she announced and stumbled toward the door. The server brought the pie and set it down in front of me. It didn’t look half bad so I ate it.

  I was parked halfway down the block in a No Parking zone. I figured in a town where “double parking” is a celebrated local custom, the sign was more of a suggestion rather than a hard and fast rule.

  I left the restaurant and spotted Harmony standing on the sidewalk next to my car, talking to a tall, slender white guy. With his baby face, perma-press jeans and western hat he looked like something straight out of Midnight Cowboy.

  I didn’t want to interfere in case Harmony was conducting business, so I tried to sidestep around them. Immediately, a muscled arm shot out and grabbed me hard by the wrist.

  “Yo, jerk-off, let go.” I reached over with my other hand, grabbed his pinky and bent it back until he howled like a stuck pig. Cowboy Bob let go of my wrist and I yanked my arm away.

  Ignoring me for the moment he turned to H
armony. His voice was perfectly controlled, but it couldn’t have been more frightening if he’d come right out and smacked her one.

  “I thought you said she was looking for a job. Were you lying to me, bitch?”

  “I ain’t lyin’ to you, Little Red. She’s new here. Tha’s why I was talkin’ to her.”

  Little Red? Acid-pouring, throat-slicing Little Red?

  Harmony stared at me, sweat pouring off her brow. “Ain’t that right, honey? Didn’t you say you was lookin’ for work?”

  I cast my eyes around the deserted street and calculated how many steps to the driver’s side of my car. Too many. I decided to play along.

  “Yeah, that’s right. I’m new here and I need a job. Guess I’d better start pounding the ol’ pavement.” I smiled and inched my way out onto the street, but the scuzzball planted himself in front of me, blocking my way.

  He eyed me up and down, his gaze lingering between my thighs. “I could use some young white chicken,” he mused aloud. “You’re in luck, bitch, because I’m hiring. Only I’m gonna need a little demonstration of your talent first.”

  He gave a sharp nod to Harmony and she took off running down the block. I tried to run too, but he caught me around the waist and dragged me into the alleyway.

  Holy shit!

  “Listen, Mr. Red, I would love to audition for you, only I’m late for band practice. I’m—a Mummer. The parade doesn’t get put on by itself, you know.”

  He shoved me up against the side of the building and began unbuckling his pants. “You’re going to love working for me, baby. All my girls do.”

  “Yeah, only I don’t think I’m cut out for streetwalking. I don’t even own a pair of ‘Fuck Me Pumps.’ Listen,” I told him, reaching into my jeans. “I’ve got some money that’s just burning a hole in my pocket. How about I give it to you and we call it a day?”

  I pulled out the wad of cash that had been Harmony’s ticket home. My legs were beginning to buckle and I couldn’t catch my breath. And then my ears started ringing and I knew I was going to pass out. The ringing got louder, only it sounded more like a siren, and then a male voice shouted, “Put your hands up and turn and face the wall.”