I know how to do it.
I need to do it.
— Butterfly
I don't have many rules, but I do have a few.
No guns.
No knockouts by my hand.
Never disrespect those who've got less than you.
And never let anybody make you feel guilty for fighting back.
Doug's tears stole the joy from my triumph, but he was humiliated.
Larry wrecked our relationship by getting scammed, but he was just naive.
Steve knew the risks that came with his line of work. He was careless.
Other guys were just idiots and I can't fault them for that.
Actually, I can.
But The B.
The "Have fun staying poor" guy.
I knew I recognized him last night. Different shirt. Different slogan. Same guy.
He needed to get got.
I was working on a plan, but I needed to talk it through, so I went back to The Bitter End. I was hoping to find the hooker from the night before.
She wasn't there.
I managed to spot her a block away, screaming obscenities at somebody in a Honda Civic.
I had no idea how this was going to go.
"So, this is weird, but... can I buy you a drink? Can we talk?"
"Butterfly, I think you got the wrong girl."
"No, no, no. Last night, you saw a guy slip something in my drink at The Bitter End. You came over, to warn me. Well done, by the way. That was awesome."
"Oh, yeah, I remember you. What'd you do about it?"
"I tricked him into switching the drinks. He fucked himself up."
She smiled, and I could tell the thought of hurting a man made her feel good.
"Seriously," I said, "can we talk? I need your help with something, and I'll pay you. If it turns out to be worth a lot, I'll pay you a lot. Let's talk."
We made our way back to the bar and found the darkest of the tall dark booths. The outside patio is where you go to see and be seen. The booths are where you go to hide. Swingers and singles? They're outside. Cheaters and scammers thrive in the darkness.
I needed to tell her my plan, but I hadn't figured out how to say it yet.
"So, in your line of work, you meet a lot of shitty guys, right?"
"In my line of work?"
"I don't judge. That's not what I'm getting at."
"Then get to it."
"In this world, there are good people and there are bad people. I'm not talking about what anybody does for money. We all do what we gotta do to get by. I'm talking about bad people. People who hurt kids. Rapists. People who look down on you because you've got less than them, so they think you are less than them. They are bad people. They deserve to get got."
"Whoa. That guy last night really pissed you off, huh?"
"Yeah, but thanks to you, I got him. I made him weep. But there's this other guy..."
"Yeah?"
"Let's say you're talking to a guy who's flashing cash, y'know? Guys like to show off. He takes off his jacket, and you see he's wearing a T-shirt that says 'Have Fun Staying Poor.' Come on. What would you think?"
"I'd think he's an asshole."
"Keep going."
"I don't know. I'd think..."
"Wouldn't you think he deserves to get brought down to size?"
"Sure."
"I know that guy. I know how to do it. I need to do it. I'll pay you to help me."
"What exactly are you talkin' about here?"
"His shirt said 'Have Fun Staying Poor.' I want to make him poor. Or at least, poorer."
"Hold up. I'm not robbin' anybody."
"You won't. Listen. Last night, you were in the restroom with some guy."
"Oh, yeah. Huh. That."
"No judgment. I was in the next stall. Shit. Here's what I'm trying to say. Back when I was homeless, I was a thief. And a damn good one."
That's a lie. I'm still a thief. Can't honestly say I'd turned a new leaf while sitting on eighty grand of Steve's money. Haven't spent any. Not sure why.
"I already told ya, I'm not robbin' anybody," she said.
"That's right. You won't. I'm not asking you to fuck anybody either."
"Then what?"
"Last night, after you and the guy were in the stall. Did you hear what happened to him?"
"Oh, yeah. Somebody emptied his..."
"Wallet. That was me. He had two hundred bucks on him. Want half? I wouldn't have got it without you, so I'm cool with splitting it."
"Well, shit. Aren't you a sly Butterfly? He was an asshole anyway."
The fact that she wasn't pissed meant she got paid in advance. She's a pro.
I hit her with my pitch.
"Here's what I need. I'll show you who the guy is. I need you to act like just some girl at a bar. Flirt and get a conversation going. Pretend you're being wild and impulsive. Convince him to skinny dipping. I just need you to get his pants off and text me, so I'll know where they are."
"You want his pants?"
"I want his keys and wallet. I'm gonna take a picture of his driver's license, so I'll know where he lives. I'll make copies of his keys and put the originals back in his pants. He'll never know it happened. Then I'll wait a few weeks before I rob him."
"Why wait?"
"That way, there's no connection between when he met you and when he got got. You're just some girl he had a date with. He won't even know I exist."
"That's pretty good."
"I know, right? I'll pay you up front, because I have no way of knowing if the guy is loaded or if he's just a dick. But whatever I get, you get half." I handed her cash I'd stolen from her John the night before. I knew if she held the money, she'd be in.
"What's your name?"
She said, "I'm Destiny."
Sure, hon. That's how it's done.
Fake name? I gave her one.
I said, "I'm Hellen."