Watch Out for the Big Girls 3

by J. M. Benjamin

  Agent McCarthy showed no signs of being surprised. He knew that the only reason he was being pulled back in was because of his secret agent on the inside. Still, he listened as Mobley continued.

  “This case scares the heck outta me. I’ve neva seen nothin’ like it. Nothin’! And you know me, I’ve been around. For God’s sakes, I seen Kennedy get his brains blown out right in front’a me. The freakin’ president. I thought nothin’ would come as a shock ever again. I was there during the Oklahoma bombing. The freakin’ van drove right past me days earlier. I personally brought the DC snipers in. I oversaw the entire investigation. Fuckin’ John Gotti Sr. had a $500,000 hit on me when I became head of the OCD. So tell me, Tom, afta all’a that, what the fuck’s this we’re up against now? I go through the files an’ all I see is a buncha professional women. I go through the case, I see cold-blooded murderers, anybody in their way. I’d fear for the president if he wrongs these women in any type’a way. Tom, you’re the fuckin’ key.”

  Chapter 11

  The visit with Monica was over. Starr was back in her solitary cell wondering if she had revealed too much to Monica. Although she shared the bulk of her introduction to the Double Gs, she made sure she had left out some of the key incidents that had occurred. She lay on her bunk and locked herself into the rest of her history.

  That day she left the courthouse after getting bailed out, the phone in her bag rang for the first time. She had forgotten all about it. She dug into her purse and reluctantly answered. “Hello?”

  “Nice work. A little sloppy, but you’ll get the hang of it,” a vaguely familiar voice proclaimed.

  “The hell I will!” Starr snapped. “Never the fuck again. I did what I did. Now I want some answers!” she demanded as she strutted down the white steps. The early afternoon sun was causing her to squint as she held the phone to her ear.

  “Study your left. When you see a car pull up to the curb, get into it. From there, you’ll have all the answers you’ll ever need for the rest of your life.” The articulate, stern older female voice hung up.

  Starr placed her left hand over her eyebrow and extended five fingers as if she were saluting a soldier. It provided shade for her to see the snow white wide-body Benz S600 sparkling as it pulled over, stopping directly in front of her path. The windows were tinted. She cautiously looked both ways as if she were about to cross the busy street, before strutting to the right side back door as the female chauffeur made her way around to let Starr in. She was only half surprised to see Mirage in back, the bartender from Club Panties who had slipped her the pouch. Starr sat next to her, and they both crossed their legs in the far opposite direction of each other. Mirage seemed to have a chip on her shoulder for some unknown reason. She rolled her eyes up in the air as she reached her right palm out to Starr.

  “Phone and camera, please,” she demanded with attitude as if she despised Starr. She stared up at the sunroof as she waited.

  Starr folded her arms as she refused. “No. Not until I get some answers.”

  “Chy-ald, pell-ease.” Mirage slowly pronounced every exaggerated syllable while still holding her open palm in Starr’s direction.

  Starr forced a heavy sigh as she unfolded her arms and dug into her purse. She came up with both items and slammed them down into Mirage’s hand. Mirage set the camera on her lap and then proceeded to take the phone apart. After inspecting every inch of it, she put it back together and turned it on while studying the screen. She dialed a random number and listened to the way it rang. When a stranger answered, she hung up. “It’s not bugged,” she whispered to herself. She set it on her lap and picked up the camera. She spoke into the air while staring at it. “Ain’t you lucky they weren’t smart enough to get this film developed,” she indirectly stated to Starr as the car pulled back off. She stuck the thin camera into her bra and pressed a button on her door to roll down the electronic window. She snapped the flip phone in half, disconnected the battery, and threw it all into the middle of the street. The car behind it ran over it.

  Starr turned her body halfway around to look out the back window as it happened. “She’ll get you a new one,” Mirage stated looking straight ahead.

  Mirage was upset, and most would conclude that she had every right to be. She was part of the second half of the first generation Double Gs, and she had never once met Queen Fem in person. In fact, no one other than the original founding members and Starr had. Mirage was convinced that one day she would, but it hadn’t happened yet. It was beginning to seem as if it never would.

  It had been over twelve years, and Mirage had watched Queen Fem’s identity get buried deeper and deeper. Those who got close to her mysteriously disappeared. Queen Fem became a phantom. Many began to wonder if she ever existed. Most believed that she was just a fictitious character created by many of the original members. Maybe all of them were Queen Fem combined. To everyone else, all Queen Fem was, was a voice. An authoritative one. Whatever she softly demanded in her light tone and sophisticated speech was done. And it was the same voice every time. The same one that came through every member’s phone during unpredictable times. That was Queen Fem. Her voice was the sound of calm fear and consequence without remorse. Nobody wanted to test her, defy her, disgrace her, fail her, or look for her. But if she ever called, you would come running.

  Mirage’s strange orders had been made very simple: bail Starr out. Make sure she kept her mouth shut first. Retrieve the camera and phone, and bring her to this specific location where she would switch vehicles.

  How does this little, young bitch who hasn’t put in any real work get to meet her? It’s bad enough that her girlfriend fucked up and got dealt with. And then this bitch gets sloppy, and then arrested. She sure ain’t the highest card in the deck. Mirage’s thoughts screamed the sound of her own voice throughout her head. She was first suspicious when Queen Fem ordered her to go after Lastarya in the first place. She wondered how Queen Fem knew Lastarya was there. And why she knew so much about a young girl who wasn’t from Las Vegas and then sent Mirage to go get her. That wasn’t the regular method of their operation.

  It started with a drink. It was sent to Lastarya as she mingled her way around the dance floor. The cocktail waitress tapped her on the shoulder, whispered into her ear, and pointed to Mirage, who was standing behind the bar. Lastarya held the glass in the air and thanked her from long distance. Within the next half hour, Lastarya found herself at the bar ordering another drink. She wanted the same one she had just had because she never tasted anything like it, not knowing it was the mix of the Double Gs’ coded drink order. She sucked it right up.

  Mirage purposely serviced Lastarya, making her feel comfortable, welcome, and singled out. Although Mirage was much older, the two made stretched amounts of small talk before Mirage took her break. She escorted Lastarya through the club to a private VIP section to meet a few of her friends, who were also older. They all embraced Lastarya, making her feel special. Lastarya was quite impressed with the high-class group of women. They were all professional. There were at least six of them. They each descended from different nationalities but bonded as one. The energy seemed to flow so purely. The unbalanced age difference became only an afterthought when trying to place times on the charming stories that were being spread around. It was fun.

  Lastarya met the same group of women for four full weekends in a row. Then, on one particular night, the ladies were acting a little strange to Lastarya. She couldn’t make out half of the things they were saying, as if they were speaking in coded plain English. Mirage hadn’t made her way over from working the bar yet. One of the ladies suggested that Lastarya go order drinks, even though they were being served by cocktail waitresses. They made sure that Lastarya had the coded drink flawlessly memorized before they sent her to the bar. She was only to give the order to Mirage, and that’s exactly what she did. And all she came back with was a spooked face and a small card that she kept twirling around in her fingers before she finally stuck it into
her purse. The rest of the women just stared at her. Their bright smiles, only a façade, slowly escaped their beautiful faces. Seriousness kicked in. They began to let Lastarya in on the most detailed intimate information about her and her lover, Starr. Not to scare her, just to open her eyes. But there was no turning back. The card was in her possession. The ladies had exposed themselves. There were only two options on the table: ride or die. Lastarya ended up temporarily creating a third: run.

  The Benz slowly pulled off of the highway and rode the shoulder of the curved exit. It drove straight down the main road of the luxurious scenic route small town unfamiliar to Starr. After passing many roadside hotels, restaurants, car lots, and gas stations, the vehicle finally pulled over at an empty lot of an office building under renovation. It parked alongside an all-black Rolls-Royce Phantom with deep black tints. Starr didn’t know what to do. Mirage did. “Get out,” she snarled.

  Starr wished for nothing more than to escape Mirage’s unfriendly presence. She huffed heavily and stormed out of the Benz, slamming the door and staring at the Phantom. The Benz pulled off. The older female chauffeur of the Phantom stepped out, strolled to the back with a professional smile, and opened the door for Starr.

  Starr entered the leather-wrapped interior. She sat with her back to the tinted divider, facing the rear windshield, staring the ghostly legend in her eyes.

  And that was how it all originally started.

  By the time Starr woke from her travel back in time, she was only minutes away from being a free woman.

  Chapter 12

  For those who don’t know, being released from confinement isn’t always such a refreshing feeling. Depending on how much time you’ve done, it becomes a great challenge. For starters, a state prisoner is forced to live way up in the mountains, where there are no normal traces of the society he or she once knew. Day in and night out, all you are aware of are great masses of land and the high terrain of mountains, deep woods, and dirt roads. No in-betweens. Steel fences, stone walls, and high gun towers. And that’s just on the outside.

  The inside is a world inside of another world, which is all set apart from the real world. Human nature is to adapt. The reality changes. The more you are confined to these new living conditions, the more it becomes home. It’s such a slow process. After ten years or more, it seems virtually irreversible. Some people would rather not be released. To be thrown back into the real world in a single day becomes unfathomable. When time and technology has worked against you so for long, you develop a fear that’s translated into hate for it. You despise the change, the constant reminders that you’ve been left behind. How long would it take to readjust? Why bother? Some choose to catch a new charge just to stay. Others would rather die. Most would rather take their chances on the outside.

  With nothing but forty dollars and a bus ticket, Frenchie was released in nothing but a sweat suit, with all of his legal work. It was nearly an eight-hour ride back into a society that he hadn’t known in well over a decade. He was more nervous than happy. A lot had changed. Some things hadn’t. He had done a lot of dirt. A lot of lives had been altered, affected, or erased on his account. To jump right back into the fire seemed senseless. Surely, his implanted fear had worn off. There was a whole new breed out there. He got a taste of the constant evolution every time one of the young inmates came through the facility. They never lasted long. Most of the time, bets were placed against the length of their survival.

  Gradually, the scenery began to change by the hour. First, it was all mountains and dirt roads. And then, it was long rows of cornfields and farmhouses. And then it was cattle and horse ranches. And then the roads became paved with cement. They turned into smooth highways. The old, wooden houses became stone or brick-layered. They were spaced out by the acres. The neighborly distance got closer and closer until the only thing in between was a small yard, fenced off by a low fence or gate. And then there were gas stations, malls, towers, car lots, restaurants, amusement parks, skyscrapers, exotics cars flying in and out of the lanes.

  Life had gone on. And it didn’t care that Frenchie was back. It wouldn’t give him time to readjust or adapt or even try to blend in as if he hadn’t been gone forever in a world where a decade is like a century. No. The world wanted its answer right now. The choice must be made. Are you returning as a tax-paying citizen with a job? Or, are you rejoining the underworld? Those who tried to balance both failed the quickest. Those who had a real plan had time. Frenchie’s plan was to let society not dictate, but decide. They would make the choice. How receptive will the streets be? A welcoming party? Or a lynch mob? he wondered.

  Only one thing was clear to Frenchie: if he happened to be tested, he had no problem going back. So, he felt he had nothing to lose. And, as the long ride finally came to an end, Frenchie got his answer. Society had made the choice for him already.

  There seemed to be hundreds of pedestrians on both sides of the street. People were everywhere, ignoring each other as they were passing by. As Frenchie stepped out onto the sidewalk, he sparked a Newport and inhaled the fresh taste of menthol. As the smoke swirled around his closed mouth’s tongue, he saw what he was looking for. There he was in the flesh: Freeze leaning against the back door of the fire engine red Rolls-Royce Phantom. Frenchie hesitantly walked up to him, stomped his cigarette out, and the two embraced in a hug.

  Chapter 13

  It had been awhile since she had been in a casino but, just like riding a bike, it comes right back to you once you hop back in the seat, and that’s exactly how Edge was feeling. Prior to being set up and going to prison, she practically lived in the casinos. Whenever she wasn’t with Diamond, you could find her in Bally’s or any of the other Caesars properties in Las Vegas. Taking the twenty grand Diamond had given to her at Johnnie’s pizzeria, Edge bought in for half of it at one of the casino’s blackjack tables, and she was already betting the table max of $500 per hand. She had already turned the ten grand into fifteen in less than fifteen minutes.

  The dealer slid Edge and two other players their cards face up. The player on her left was buzzed and had a two of hearts. Edge shook her head because she already knew she was going to go twenty-one or bust. With the exception of the first time she played, the woman busted on every hand. The player on her right was more her speed. She was an older lady, easily her grandma’s age based on the hard wrinkles that folded on her face and the sag in her lightly puffed cheeks. Her dark brown bob-cut wig tried to help her appear young, but Edge knew better. She glanced at her ten of spades. Not the way she played her game, but she knew she had to make the card work for her. The house dealer had a four of diamonds, and Grandma had a six of clubs.

  Their eyes locked and she licked her lips. Edge winked at her. When her eyes met the attendant, she noticed the slight head shake of disapproval followed by a discreet smile.

  “Trying to have them both I see,” the dealer made small talk after she dealt the second set of cards. The drunken woman had a three of clubs. Edge was served a four of clubs, which pissed her off even more. The house had an ace of diamonds, and Grandma had a queen of hearts.

  “I can if I want them,” Edge bragged through clenched teeth.

  “Hit me!” the buzzed woman commanded.

  Edge hated that she controlled the board but she knew, with her hand, she’d join her. “Hit me,” Edge replied subtly and took a sip of her doctored club soda.

  “Hit me.” Grandma took the risk.

  The drunk woman had the best advantage with only five. Since the ace was already declared an eleven, the house had fifteen, and Grandma was holding sixteen. Edge counted on fourteen and being in the next best position.

  The drunk woman was dealt the ace of hearts, Edge was served the two of clubs, Grandma busted with the king of diamonds, and the house held steady with the three of spades.

  “Damn, ma,” Edge whispered. She hated to see Grandma go because, next to her, she was the only sane one.

  “Hit me!” The drunk woman was
confident in her sixteen not going over. Edge didn’t feel good about the hand. The house held with a soft seventeen and she knew that the chances of getting a five or less were slim. But the money was good if she continued.

  “Hit me.” Edge continued the game.

  The drunk woman was dealt the jack of hearts, busting her at twenty-six. Luck spared Edge with the four of hearts, giving her another victory.

  The attendant pushed her winning tokens to her hand. Edge tipped the dealer a twenty-five dollar chip and then said, “Color me up,” requesting to turn her green twenty-five dollar chips and her black one hundred dollar chips into gray $5,000 chips. She stood up and took the tokens and put them in her right pocket. She’d won a few dollars short of ten Gs, and it was time to cash out. She decided it was time to quit while she was ahead.

  As she made her way to the cashier’s cage, her cell phone buzzed on the side of her hip. It was a text message from Diamond. It was an invitation to come hang out with her and some of her friends. Edge thought for a moment before replying. When she got to the cage, she pulled her casino chips out and set them up on the countertop. While the cashier quickly counted the chips, Edge pulled her phone back out and replied, “Thanks but no thanks.”

  “$19,060. How would you like that?” the cashier chimed.

  Edge shoved her phone back in the clip and looked up at her. She was met with a warm smile and lustful eyes. She stared at the pretty Latina cashier. Ray Charles could see that the girl was flirting with her.

  Edge looked around before she replied, “You can give me all hundreds please, and your number while you’re at it.”

  Moments later, she exited Bally’s Casino with an additional nearly $10,000 and something, or rather someone, to do later. It had been a long time since she had money or touched a woman sexually. Since she couldn’t have Diamond, she figured the cashier would compensate.