“Babe.”
I ditched the orange suit and explained to Vicky that I’d been reassigned. She gave me a pint of ice cream and said everyone would miss me and they were sorry I couldn’t stay longer. She made an admirable effort, but underneath it all I knew she was relieved to see me go. I mean, really, who wouldn’t be?
I took my ice cream to my car, chugged out of the Mo Morris Ice Cream parking lot, and drove to the office.
“I thought you were at Mo Morris today,” Lula said when I walked through the door.
“It didn’t work out, but I got some ice cream.”
“That’s my kind of job,” Lula said. “Work a couple hours and get some ice cream. What flavor?”
“Vanilla.”
“I like vanilla,” Lula said.
I got spoons for Lula, Connie, and me, and we finished off the ice cream.
“How’d it go last night?” I asked Lula.
“It went pretty good. There were a couple things that didn’t go exactly right . . . like when we were supposed to find shelter for the night and we picked a abandoned building and Randy got bit by a rat.”
“Omigod!”
“At least we think it was a rat. It was dark, and we couldn’t get a good look at it. It was one of them bite-and-run things. It didn’t sound big enough to be a crackhead.”
“Is Randy okay?”
“Yeah, he was all hysterical for a while, but he calmed down after we took him to the clinic and got him a shot.”
“Anything else go wrong?”
“While we were making our way to our final destination and going around the block someone stole Howie’s van. We should have seen that one coming. It wasn’t as bad as it might have been on account of it turns out Howie stole it in the first place. It’s just that it had all our clothes in it.”
“How’d you get home?”
“We called a Uber car but it wouldn’t let us in naked, so me and the makeup ’ho walked over to Stark Street, and the makeup ’ho traded some services for a ride.”
“Good thing you had a makeup ’ho on the team,” Connie said.
“Truly,” Lula said. “Otherwise I might have had to come out of retirement.”
“But you got your demo film, right?” I asked.
“Yeah. Howie is editing it for us and then we’ll send it in. We got some real good stuff on it. Those Naked and Afraid people would be nuts not to sign Randy and me up for their show, but just in case they don’t like this reel I got a backup idea. Naked bungee jumping. I figure we could go off the bridge over the Delaware. The one that says ‘Trenton Makes, and the World Takes.’ ”
Connie and I were mouths open, eyes glazed. I actually felt my mind go numb for a beat.
“I bet nobody’s sent them a demo for naked bungee jumping,” Lula said.
My cellphone buzzed with a text message. It was from Sharelle. Just saw Winkle having lunch in Fat Dave’s.
“Saddle up,” I said to Lula. “Eugene Winkle is in Fat Dave’s.”
“And?” Lula said.
“And we’re going to bring him in.”
“How are you gonna do that? You got an elephant gun? You got Ranger in the trunk of your car?”
“I have you. I’m going to send you into Fat Dave’s and you’re going to charm Winkle.”
“That might not be a bad idea,” Lula said. “I am charming. I could charm the ass off him.”
“Exactly. And then we convince him that once we get him rebonded he’s going to have a really good time.”
“He might even know my reputation,” Lula said. “I was known for doing quality work back in the day. Of course, we aren’t really going to show him a good time. Unless he got some hot qualities. Then I might think about it.”
FIFTEEN
FAT DAVE’S IS a hamburger joint on the second block of Stark. It’s dark and dingy and has grease running down the walls. It also makes the best burgers in Trenton.
I was on Stark, looking for a parking place, hoping I wasn’t too late to catch Winkle.
“You know the secret to Fat Dave’s burgers?” Lula said. “It’s duck fat. Not many people know that on account of it’s a secret. He slicks his griddle up with duck fat, and it imparts that excellent gamey taste. And then he uses extra salt. Salt brings out the flavor of shit.”
I found a parking place on the third block, and Lula and I walked back to Fat Dave’s. We looked in through the large plate glass window and saw that Winkle was still there. We could tell by his gargantuan body overflowing the counter stool.
“You go in first,” I said. “You do your thing, and then I’ll come in and close the deal.”
Lula sashayed in and sat next to Winkle. I gave her five minutes, and then I went in and joined them. I had plasti-cuffs stuffed into my jeans waistband, hidden by my sweatshirt, and a canister of pepper spray in my sweatshirt pocket.
“Well, look who’s here,” Lula said. “It’s my friend Stephanie.”
Winkle gave a sound that was like a bull snorting. He had an empty plate in front of him, and there was ketchup everywhere. He was working on a basket of French fries.
“This is my new friend Eugene Winkle,” Lula said to me.
Eugene gave another snort and shoved French fries into his mouth.
“Is Eugene ready to party?” I asked Lula.
“Eugene’s thinking about it,” Lula said. “He’s gotta finish his fries first.”
“Did you tell Eugene about the deal?”
Eugene looked at me. “What deal?”
“Lula likes handcuffs.”
“Yeah,” Lula said. “I’m thinking about going into dominatrixing. I like to give a little and then I like to get a little.”
“Oh yeah?” he said. “What do you like to get?”
“I’m pretty much into spanking,” Lula said. “Are you any good at that?”
“Do I have to get spanked first?”
“Yeah.”
“And then I get to spank you?”
“Yeah.”
He shoved a wad of French fries into his mouth. “Let’s go.”
“First we have to cuff you,” I said.
He threw a twenty down on the counter and held his hands out. “Do it. This is going to be good. I’m going to spank you hard when it’s my turn.”
“I like that,” Lula said. “Nothing I like better than a hard spanker.” She looked over at me. “Make sure you pull those plasti-cuffs real tight.”
I had them around Winkle’s wrist, and I went for a second. “I’m doing double.”
“What are you going to use?” he wanted to know. “Are you going to use a switch or a paddle?”
I looked at Lula and read her mind. She was thinking she would use a couple thousand volts of electricity.
We walked Winkle to my car and secured him into the backseat. He had his hands double cuffed behind his back. Lula was in the front seat with her hand wrapped around the stun gun in her purse. I had one eye on the road and one eye on Winkle in my rearview mirror. If he somehow managed to get out of the cuffs I was going to stop the car, jump out, and run like hell.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“I got a place on Clinton Street,” Lula said.
“I don’t like Clinton Street,” Winkle said. “That’s where the police station is. Hey, wait a minute . . .”
“Drive faster,” Lula said to me. “A lot faster.”
“I think you tricked me,” Winkle said. “You don’t want to get spanked. I bet you’re cops. I don’t like this. I don’t like being tricked.”
Lula reached over the seat with her stun gun and Winkle head-butted her. Lula knocked against me, I jumped the curb, and crashed into a streetlight. By the time I fought my way free of the airbag, Winkle had disappeared.
Lula and I got out and looked at my car. The front was smushed in where it’d hit the pole.
“It’s not so bad,” Lula said. “The wheels look okay. And so far as I can see it’s not leaking anything. You probably could drive it.”
I got behind the wheel, backed off the sidewalk, and slowly drove away.
“Just like new,” Lula said, “except for that big dent in the front and the mold smell coming from the backseat.”
“Winkle has a high bond. If I could bring him in I might be able to buy a car.”
“I could help you,” Lula said. “I’m good at picking out cars. And I got connections.”