“My wife made me go to your movie. I ended up really enjoying it,” he said as he walked around the front of the car to shake my hand.
“That’s my car, and she’s my security. What did she do?” I asked.
“Security? She looks awfully young for that.”
“Don’t let that fool you. She could take both of us without a problem,” I assured him.
“I clocked her doing 45 in a 35. I was probably going to give her a warning,” he admitted.
“Do me a favor and tell her she can’t drive this car anymore. It’s too much for a little girl like her,” I suggested.
“What do I get out of it?”
“How about I take a picture with you so you can tell the story?” I suggested.
“Deal.”
Cassidy wasn’t happy when she had to hand me the keys. I would give them back to her once we got home, but it was my car, and I wanted to drive it. She was even more unhappy when I made her take our picture. Cassidy was ready to kill me when I smoked the tires as I left the parking lot, and she saw the police officer laughing.
“Hey, settle down. I got you out of a ticket,” I reminded her.
My little ninja pouted like my three-year-old niece until I took her to Dairy Queen and bought her a cone. Ice cream made everything better, even if it was the middle of winter.
◊◊◊
Funny how handing a girl a set of car keys can make her happy.
I walked in the back door with Cassidy. Today, Melanie had made oatmeal raisin cookies.
“I want to hang out with you all the time. We never have anything good at my house,” Cassidy shared.
Yesterday, she’d had cherry-walnut bars at my grandma’s. I agreed; we’d made out the last two days. Life was good until Melanie pulled up a chair with a concerned look on her face. I had a sinking feeling that karma was about to bite me in the butt.
“I have to tell you something,” she said.
“We can call Fritz if there’s a dead hooker, and you just gave him homemade cookies. So, unless you lost one of the boys or his dog, you’re golden,” Cassidy assured her.
“Dead hooker?” Melanie asked as her eyebrows rose into her hairline.
“Let’s just say we have contingencies in place and leave it at that,” I said mysteriously.
“Oookay. Well, over Christmas, I spent some time with friends. They wanted to know what it was like working for you. Well, I’d had a few drinks and shared some stuff I know I’m not supposed to. One of my friends has contacts in Chicago, and she suggested that I share what I’d heard with someone she knows. She works for
When I was in Chicago, I happened to pick up a copy of the paper. It was published weekly and had an alternative bent to it. The newspaper was where you would go to find out what was going on entertainment-wise that weekend. They were geared towards the young, single crowd that liked to party. Some of the personal ads were hilarious.
“And …” I prodded.
“They want to pay me for information about you.”
“I’m not sure these cookies are that good,” Cassidy observed.
“How much are they willing to pay?” I asked.
She told me. It wasn’t a lot, but it would make a difference for her.
“If you run it by my publicist first, I’m fine with it,” I said.
She let out a breath and then looked confused.
“I thought you were going to fire me,” she admitted.
“David knows that they’ll write about him anyway. If Frank okays the story, and you get paid, it’s a win for him. At least this way, his people get a say in what you ‘leak,’” Cassidy explained.
Someone had been paying attention.
“What she said.”
“Can I tell them that you have a contingency plan for dead hookers?” she asked.
“If you can get Frank to agree, then go for it,” I said, and then had a thought. “You might want to run it by my mom, too, while you’re at it.”
That gave Melanie pause. I probably should have thought this through because knowing my mom, she might provide Melanie stories to tell about me.
Mom might even be able to get my lousy perm picture from Tami. I was sure they would love to see my middle school photo when I was an overweight nerd with curly hair. Looking back, I think we did the perm wrong because all it did was make my hair frizzy.
◊◊◊
I’d gone to my apartment with Duke and found Satan’s Spawn sprawled out on the couch. My aunt and uncle were staying for the big party tomorrow night. I heard the door open, and my aunt talking to my uncle. When they reached the head of the stairs, they saw me.
“Big day today,” Aunt Bonnie said.
“Yeah, I sold my business and got myself in deeper with the NCAA and FBI. I guess that balanced out,” I said with good humor.
“How does that make you feel?” Uncle John asked.
I swear he couldn’t help himself. I looked at my aunt, and she turned around and went downstairs and left us alone. It seemed like we were going to have a talk.
“My PA said something that might apply: ‘Pride. Fear. Guilt. Pick a number.’ I guess I’m feeling all of those.”
“I understand that you would be proud of what you’ve built. Why would you feel fear or guilt?” he asked.
