Apparently,
I'm not in this story.
— A Conscience
By this point, my dating disasters were becoming the stuff of legends at The Shady Lady Exchange.
After hearing about my latest mishap... the part I was willing to share, anyway... Keri said, "Girl, we're taking you out tonight. You need to get drunk."
"I can't go to a bar. I'm nineteen."
"Lorraine's coming too. She'll get you a fake ID. She knows a guy."
Gary's the kind of town where everybody knows a guy, and the only guys who don't know a guy already are the guy.
In a thriving city, you've got haves and have nots. It's pretty easy to tell who's who. But in a place like Gary, everybody's running a scam to get everybody else's scraps. For every scam, there's a guy. For every scrap, there's a guy looking for a guy to help get it.
Lorraine's an older woman, but she's the guy for everybody at The Shady Lady. Well, she's the guy who gets the guy, but that still makes her the guy. Need something, but you can't ask anybody? Ask Lorraine.
On our lunch break, Lorraine took me to a shitty print shop called Prints Plus to get a fake ID. Apparently, the Plus meant Plus Shady Shit. Some homely bro named Reggie took my picture and told us to come back in an hour.
After lunch at a burger joint across the street, Lorraine and I returned to Prints Plus. I gave Reggie fifty bucks and he handed me a new ID that didn't look anything close to being legit.
"Who the hell is Hellen?"
I immediately felt stupid for asking.
Lorraine said, "C'mon, Dandy. They're not gonna put your real name on a fake ID. With this, you're Hellen, from Hammond."
"That sounds SO fake."
"Doesn't matter. After work, we're going to a place with a patio, so we'll be outside. Pay in cash. Nobody cares."
She was right.
When we closed The Shady Lady for the night, we headed across town to a bar called The Bitter End. It was in a narrow trench of a building stuffed between two warehouses, parts of which had been converted into hipster lofts. Other parts were either falling down or being restored. Sometimes, it's hard to tell which is which.
The Bitter End was dark and deep, like one big long hallway, with tall booths on both sides. The patio was out back, which meant it was outdoors yet boxed in by the sides of old warehouses. The place had been intentionally uglied up to make it look authentic for the hipsters, which meant drinks were overpriced.
Poverty cosplay is a vicious lie. I couldn't help scanning the place to see which rich fucks needed to get got, so they could learn how to have fun being poor. I'd already done it to one guy.
I made off with eighty grand from Steve's place, which was surprisingly easy. Then again, I did have his keys.
I don't care if a guy deals pot. That's fine. But I'm not cool with the hard stuff. Fucking meth, heroin, and worse. I was just gonna rob him, but when I realized he was dealing to kids, it was time to shut him down. Along with the money, I found a list of schools, times and customers in a little black book. It was locked in a safe. I didn't have the combo, but the key to reset it was on his keychain, and since I was driving his car, I had his keys. Easy peasy.
I gave his little black book and the rest of his keys to the heavies from the Boxtan Inn. I sold them his car, too. Bought myself a Honda Civic. A Civic is boring as hell, but when you're doing shady shit, driving a flashy car is bad.
Fuck anybody who fucks up kids. When Steve got out of the hospital, I knew they'd put him right back in, or...
THUMP.
"...Dandy? DANDY!"
"OUCH!" Shit. "Sorry Lorr."
"You OK?"
"Oh, yeah. I was just thinkin' about somebody. What's up?"
"What do you think of the guy over there. Black T-shirt. Glasses. He looks like he's your type."
"Are you serious?" I said. "The T-shirt with the B logo that says 'Sovereign Citizen'? What the hell is that?"
"I think it's a video game."
"Yeah, no thanks. We've met. He's a douchebag."
Keri said, "How about the guy two tables over. Blue button down. I think he was checking you out."
"I'm sure he wasn't. And anyway, I'm off the market for a while. Just here to chill."
The girls meant well, and they were actually pretty cool.
Keri acts tough, but she's a softie. She's got a huge family and she'd do anything for them. Anything but bail out her cousin Larry, I guess. Maybe he didn't ask. And even if he did, could she afford what he owed? Probably not. I knew she worried, though.
And Lorraine would put up with anything as long as everybody shows up for work. She pretended the "youngsters" drove her nuts, but she adored all the girls at The Shady Lady because we made her feel young. She was only in her thirties, but she had kids, and I think she felt old. I'm guessing she wanted more from life than this. Or maybe I read way too much into it.
I think too much when I drink. I usually talk too much too, but my mind was distracted because this place was such a feast for the eyes, even if only in a phony way. Fucking hipsters.
Eventually, I got up to use the restroom.
The ladies room had a line waiting to get in, but the men's room was empty. Fuck it. Good enough.
I picked a stall. As I did my best to hover over a toilet without touching it, because ewww... I heard the men's room door open with a slap, and a woman's voice echoed.
"Ahahahaa, oh baby, yeah I bet you're real good. Show me what'cha got."
I thought, "You've gotta be kidding me."
Some guy took what I assumed was a hooker into the stall next to mine, to do the deed. I was hoping they wouldn't notice me. I don't know why. I never cared if Trina Wilson knew I was there, but when mom had one of those guys over, I did my best to disappear.
I could hear him moaning as she pretended to be into it, mostly.
"Uggghhh..."
"Ohh, hey, go easy OK?"
I heard a thud as the guy, put the girl against the stall door. Then, I saw his pants drop down to his ankles, and he stepped out of them, which seemed... odd. I debated how long I should wait in the...
"Uggggghhhh... Urrrrrgh!!!"
"Oh. Easy. Come on."
Sheesh.
I debated how long I should wait in the stall before quietly sneaking out. And why the hell was I sneaking??? That's when I heard a jingle-ting-ching on the floor. From my side of the stall, I could see his keys on the floor. I guess they fell out of his pocket. And his wallet was in his pants, which he was no longer wearing, so...
I begged myself not to do it, but I couldn't resist. And as he moaned and she groaned, I figured it wasn't like either of them would notice.
"AaahhoooooooOOOO!!!"
"UURGGHHH!!!"
I gently reached my foot into their stall and slid his pants my way.
"Uuuooouh!!! UGHH!!! Uuuooouh!!! URGH..."
"Ohh... Oww... Hey, UGHHH!!! Easy!!!!"
I snatched the wallet.
"Uh huh... Urrgk... Uh huh... Ehhhrrrgh..."
"HHMMmm... Hmmm... HHhmm... Uugh..."
Good lord.
I swiped his cash and quietly left the restroom, dropping his wallet where they'd find it, because I'm nice.
"OHHH I'M GONNA!!! BLOW!!!"
"OWWW!!!! URGHHH!!!"
Ohyougottabefuckingkiddingme.
"Ohhhh that was... good baybeee..."
"Fuck you... Uhhh. Ouch."
I was hoping she got paid up front as I went to the patio, to find the girls from work.
When I got back to our table, Blue Shirt was sitting with them.
"Thomas says he wants to buy you a drink," Lorraine said.
"Ah, so you're Thomas."
"That's me. What's your name?"
"Whiskey."
"Your name's Whiskey?"
"For now. And it's what I'm drinking. Real name comes later, if you're lucky."
That was a lie.
"Alright," he said. "I like a challenge. Be right back."
As Thomas left to fetch the drink, Lorraine got up too.
She said, "Hey, it's getting late. I think we're gonna head out. You good? Or do you need one of us to stick around."
I told her I'd be fine. I always am.
When Thomas returned, the hooker was coming too, a few steps behind him. I recognized her shoes.
I started to panic. Did she know I ripped off her John? Was she coming for the cash? She was shouting, "Angie, baby! Where you been, Butterfly?!?"
As Thomas sat down, she grabbed me.
She wrapped her arms around me. I tried to pull away, but she wouldn't let go.
I said, "Hey, whoa, I'm not Angie," as she pulled me closer. "What the??? I told you, I'm not..."
The hooker put her lips to my ear. She whispered, "Don't drink it, girl. He put somethin' in it." And then she let go.
Oh, shit.
I didn't know what to say, so I started apologizing. "I'm sorry. I'm not Angie, but I hope you find her."
"Aww, fuck! What are you sayin' sorry for? My mistake. My bad. You have fun now, OK?"
She winked as she turned away, and her ass swayed from side to side as she headed triumphantly back inside the bar.
"That was strange," Thomas said.
"Guess she thought I was somebody else."
"Guess so. Anyway, here's your whiskey. I got us both a double."
"Same drink," I said, with a grin. "That's good."
That was very good.