“Scotch,” she said. “And don’t bring me none of that ol’ watered-down shit. I want the real deal!”
He made a sign to a waitress. She brought Selena a tall glass. She swooped it up and downed it with one gulp. Even she would have been drunk on her ass had she not coated her stomach with a special preparation beforehand that neutralized the alcohol. She leered boozily at States.
“I know someone who’d like to meet you,” Frog Face said.
“Who? You?” She wondered if she’d have to do him as part of the bargain. She wasn’t knocked out at the prospect but if duty called…
“Not me,” he said. “A friend and associate. A discreet gentleman who likes to meet quality ladies.”
I bet I know what quality he likes, Selena thought. “I like men who like quality,” she said as nasty as she could. “How do I get in touch with Mr. Deescreet Gennelman?”
“You don’t,” said Frog Face, pushing a napkin and a pen toward her. “Write your number down there, beautiful. You don’t call him. He’ll call you.”
“Bet,” she said as she wrote. “Hey! Whose ass I got to kick to git me another drank up in this heah mothafucka?”
Part IV
Margaret called her after she got home.
“Red alert!” she said. “We don’t have seven days anymore. The hearing’s been moved up. Gaddys is scheduled to testify within a few days in Washington unless you can stop him.”
Oh, great, Selena thought. A rush job. What if the mother decided to hold off calling her until he got back? Might just be easier to go by his house, knock him over the head, and kidnap him.
She had a restless night, and went out jogging in the morning.
When she got back there was a message on her answering machine. It was from Gaddys.
“My little mojo,” she said to herself, patting herself on the butt. “How could I ever have doubted you?”
At about two that afternoon she was sitting on a bench in the park near her condo as instructed, when a tall, dark-skinned man with long dreadlocks and a beard, dressed in coveralls and sunglasses and toting a backpack, sat down next to her.
“Ms. Epperson?” the man said, extending his hand. She knew that voice! It was William Gaddys, wearing a disguise. She tried not to show surprise.
“Yes?” she said.
“I am the gentleman Mr. States told you about,” he said. “You look surprised.”
Shit! “Well, I was expecting someone who looked a little more…”
“Like someone who owned a nightclub?” He chuckled. “I’m wearing a wig and false whiskers,” he explained. “I have enemies. Business competitors. I must take precautions when I move about.”
So you ain’t seen picking up chippies in the park, Selena thought.
“I hear you’re quite a dancer,” Gaddys said.
He was peering at her intently.
Selena was back in her fresh-meat bag, wearing a long-sleeved, high-collared white blouse that was buttoned up to the neck, a long black dress that reached down to the tops of her very sensible, clunky shoes, no jewelry or makeup, and a bashful, rueful expression.
“I’m so ashamed,” Selena stammered. “I can imagine what you’ve heard. You must think I’m a—trollop or something. Please believe me! I—I don’t usually act that way in public. It’s just that I—I’m so…”
“Lonely?” Gaddys said.
Selena bit her lip and looked away, playing the role to the hilt.
“It’s no fun, being alone, getting older,” she said, sniffling back a fake tear. “It makes you do desperate things Mr., Mr….”
“Gaddys. William G. Gaddys,” he said. “You may have heard of me.”