She shows up after about twenty minutes. I notice her in my rearview mirror walking across the lot toward my car. She’s still thin as a rail and moves like a drunken model walking on a narrow runway.
I hit the button to unlock the doors. She slides into the front seat with a “Hey, sweetie,” and sets her overloaded fake Gucci purse on the floor between her legs.
“How’re you doing, Tamie?”
“I’m doin’ just fine.”
She pulls a pack of cigarettes out of her purse, taps one out.
I fire it up for her with my lighter.
She takes a long drag and blows the smoke toward the partly open passenger’s side window.
For a crackhead she doesn’t look so bad. She’s not homeless, so she wears clean clothes and takes care of herself most of the time. Her dark skin is smooth and relatively blemish free, but she still has that distinctive smell that can only be associated with smoking crack. It’s slightly nauseating and sweet and finds its way into their skin, like what they’re smoking up is seeping back out from the inside.
“Appreciate you getting here on such short notice.”
“No problem, sweetie.”
She scoots herself so that her back is leaning against the doorframe and she’s facing me.
“You lost some weight since the last time I seen you. Or maybe it’s just that I never seen you outta a suit before.”
“I’m going casual for a bit,” I tell her. “Also might be sitting in this car for a while.”
“Starting to feel more retired, huh?”
“That, too.”
“So what do ya need from me today, honey?”
“A simple phone call is all, and for that sweet voice of yours to sound like a cute suburban teenager. You think you can manage that?”
“You mean something like this, sweetheart?” she says, trying too hard to sound cute.
“Minus the sweetheart and maybe a little more Caucasian.”
“I can do white girl.”
“You’re gonna be talking to a DC drug boy who goes by the nickname Playboy. He’s got a thing for white Virginia high school girls. I’m thinking the more innocent you sound, the better.”
“Innocent?”
“Young, sweet, virgin…”
“Oh fuck. Virgin?”
“Yeah, white teenage virgin.”
“Shit, Frankie, that might have to cost double.”
“You pull this off, I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry about that.”
“So like what do you want me to talk about?” she asks, using the kind of voice I’m looking for.
“That’s very good, darling. You’re calling for a high school friend of yours, Justine. She got herself grounded.”
“Justine. Okay.”
“I’ll write it down for you. But she got herself grounded and her mom took away her cell phone. You talked to her in school today, and she gave you Playboy’s number to call him for her and see if he can hook the two of you up with some rock.”
“Suburban white girls on crack. That shoulda hit the news. I mean, ‘That should be on the news.’”
“These kids hide their lifestyles well. So listen up. Your friend’s name is Justine. You go to Lake Braddock High in Burke. Her mom picks her up directly from school, so she doesn’t take the bus anymore.”
“So why wouldn’t she just use my cell phone to call him herself?”
“Good question. Because you wouldn’t let her. You want to meet him for yourself. You don’t have a crack connection, just weed. But don’t overthink it, because he’s not gonna. The only thing that’s gonna be doing the thinking for him is his dick, but that’s only if you can pull this off.”
She belts out a throaty smoker’s laugh.
“You just make sure to sound sweet and tempting, and all he’ll be thinking about is hooking up with that voice of yours.”
“What name do I use?”
“Your real name. Tamie. Just don’t give him a last name. I don’t wanna have to follow him all the way from Virginia, so tell him you have a driver’s license and can meet him in Georgetown because you’ve hung out there before with your friends. You can meet on Wisconsin Avenue where it ends just under the bridge, and you’ll be standing right on the sidewalk there.”
“But I won’t be standing there, right?”
“No, of course not. That’s the point. All I want is for him to show up, and then I’ll follow him after he gets tired of waiting. Make up a description, like you’re short and blond and wearing black jeans or something. But be sure to tell him that you have to get the car back before dinner so you have to meet him right after school at, say, four thirty or so. It can’t be later than that or you can’t go. And as innocently as possible make it clear that it’ll be worth his while to show up.”
“Innocent as possible? How the fuck does that sound?”
“Don’t use words like ‘fuck.’ In fact, no cusswords at all.”
“That just wouldn’t sound natural. What the fuck would he want to do with a girl like that?”
“Tamie, you’re a sixteen-year-old white girl from Virginia. That’s all you need to be thinking. You watch TV shows, like reruns of Friends?”
“I seen it on occasion.”
“Well, it’s like the girls on that show, but not the sassy one with black hair, more like the blonde.”