Who the hell is Hellen?
— Hellen
By this point, my dating disasters were becoming the stuff of legends at The Shady Lady Exchange. Keri was working behind the counter the day after my date with Steve.
She said, "I saw you leave yesterday with that guy in the hot car."
Saying the car was hot is a polite way to say the guy was not. And Steve wasn't, but he had money. Emphasis on had.
"He had an accident," I said. "The date ended early."
"An accident?"
"He fell." Technically, that was true. "He's in the hospital." Also true.
Keri said, "God, Dandy, your luck with guys is crazy bad! 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 is a scrappy town. Everybody's got a scam to get somebody else's scraps. For every scam, there's a guy. For every scrap, there's somebody looking for a guy.
Lorraine's an older woman, but she's the guy at The Shady Lady. Need something, but you can't ask anybody? Ask Lorraine.
I needed a fake ID. On our lunch break, Lorraine took me to a shitty shop called Prints Plus, where Plus meant Plus Shady Shit.
Some scruffy bro named Reggie took my picture and came back five minutes later with a plastic card that made my jaw drop.
"This looks phony as hell."
"It's what fifty bucks gets ya," he said.
"And 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 Elgin."
"Where the hell is Elgin?"
"Chicagoland. It's in the burbs."
"Hellen, though?"
"It's just a name."
"I don't he spelled it right."
"Dandy, it doesn't matter. The place we're going after work has a patio, so we'll be outside, and they're only gonna check your age. Pay in cash. Nobody cares."
She was right about that last thing.
When we closed The Shady Lady for the night, we headed across town to The Bitter End. It was a bar in a narrow trench of a building squished between two warehouses, parts of which had been converted into hipster lofts.
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 other buildings. Everything had been 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 Steve.
I made off with ninety grand from his safe. It was an amazing score, and it was easy. Then again, I did have his keys. I got three cases of beer too.
"Dandy? Hellooo???"
"Sorry Lorr. Guess I zoned out for a sec."
"Yeah you did. You okay?"
"I'm good. I was just thinking about somebody. What's up?"
"Check out the guy over there."
"Which one?"
"Black T-shirt. Glasses. He looks like he's your type."
"Are you serious, Lorraine? The guy in the shirt 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. I'm 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 his debt? Probably not. I knew she worried, though.
And Lorraine put up with anything as long as everybody showed up for work. She pretended the "youngsters" drove her nuts, but she adored the girls at The Shady Lady. We made her feel young. She was in her early forties and living with her parents, taking care of them. I think she felt old. I'm guessing she wanted more from life than this. Or maybe I read too much into it.
I think too much when I drink. I usually talk too much, too, but I kept getting distracted because this bar was such a feast for the eyes, even if only in a phony way. Fucking hipsters.
Lorraine got up to flirt with the bartender, and it was time for me to hit the restroom.
The ladies room had a line waiting to get in, but the men's room was empty, so fuck it. Good enough.
I picked a stall. As I did my best to hover over a nasty toilet without touching it, I heard the men's room door open with a slap, and two voices echoed.
A woman said, "Oh baby, yeah, I bet you're real good. Let's see 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 me, to do the deed. All I could see was a guy's feet in brown loafers, and the girl was wearing bright red pumps.
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 the guy moaning as the girl pretended to be into it. Mostly.
"Uggghhh..."
"Ohh, hey, go easy okay?"
I heard a thud as the guy put the girl against the stall door. He kicked off his shoes, which seemed odd. Then, I saw his khakis drop down to his ankles, and he stepped out of them too. Guys are weird.
"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 should I sneak??? That's when I heard a jingle-ting-ching. From my side of the stall, I could see his keys on the floor. I guess they fell out of his pocket. His wallet was still in his pants, which he wasn't wearing anymore, so I reached my foot into their stall...
...and as he moaned and she groaned...
"Uuuooouh!!! UGHH!!! Uuuooouh!!! URGH..."
"Ohh... Oww... Hey, UGHHH!!! Easy!!!!"
...I slid his pants my way...
"Uh huh... Urrgk... Uh huh... Ehhhrrrgh..."
"HHMMmm... Hmmm... HHhmm... Uugh..."
...and I snatched his wallet.
"I'M GONNA!!!"
"MEHHHH."
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!!!"
"OWWW!!!! URGHHH!!!"
Oh, goddamn.
As I headed back to the patio, to find the girls from work, I was hoping the hooker got paid up front.
When I got to our table, the Blue Shirt guy was sitting there. Lorraine said, "Thomas wants to buy you a drink."
"Ah, so you're Thomas?" I asked.
"That's my name. What's yours?"
"Red."
"Your name is Red?"
"Region Red Ale. It's what I'm drinking. My name comes later, if you're lucky."
He said, "I like a challenge. Be right back."
As he left to fetch the drink, Lorraine got up too. "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 from the restroom was a few steps behind him, headed straight for me. It had to be her. Couldn't miss those bright red pumps.
I started to panic. Did she know I ripped off her john? Was she coming for the cash?
Even before they got to the table, she started shouting, "Angie, baby! Where you been, Butterfly?!?" I didn't know what to do.
As Thomas sat down, she grabbed me. I tried to pull away, but she wouldn't let go.
I said, "Hey, whoa, I'm not Angie," but she wrapped her arms around me and pulled me close.
"What the?!? I told you, I'm not..."
She put her lips to my ear and whispered, "Don't drink it, girl. He put somethin' in it."
Then she kissed me on the cheek and let go.
Oh, shit.
I was speechless, yet words started coming out of my mouth. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm not Angie, but I hope you find her."
"Aww, damn! What are you apologizin'' for? My mistake. My bad. You two have fun now, okay?"
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 beer. I got us both a Region Red."
"Same drink," I said, with a grin. "That's good."
That was very good.