by T. S. Hill
“Okay,”, I began again, “You’ve heard of undercover police and undercover agents, haven’t you?”
“Sure.”, she responded.
“Well I’m a freelance investigator. Sometimes I may work for a company that has employees stealing stuff from them, like plans for new products, or assets and resources, and they hire me to find out who and what is going on.”
“When work gets slow sometimes, I may work for hire with a police agency, like a local police department, the DEA, or even the state police, but I am never a sworn police officer. I am a contract worker. I do not make arrests, and I am under no obligation to report anything that is not directly relevant to the case I am assigned to. Do you understand now?”, I finished.
“So, are you a private eye or a snitch? I mean informant!”, she quickly added.
“Neither, I answered, but closer to private eye. I am a contract investigator, sometimes undercover, that only works on high level cases, involving large amounts of money, large amounts of crime, or very high impact crimes. It gets extremely dangerous sometimes, but it also pays extremely well. Plus, I don’t get bored like shmuck cops, pee eyes and losers.”
“Wow!”, she responded. It sounds exciting!”
“Well you’ve spent a day and a half with me. What do you think?”, I asked.
“I think that your day and a half would have been easier without me.”, she answered.
“If changing anything would mean not meeting you Lori, then I wouldn’t change a thing.”
“Aw!” she whined, “that’s so sweet! You’ve got two gold stars on your report card already on this trip! You really are going to get a reward!” She started giggling, and I laughed. “Okay, she said, you ask a question.”
“Okay, but first, I’m puzzled by the question that you asked me.” I figured that you would want to know my real name or something like that. But you asked about what I do?”
“Well Cowboy, a name doesn’t make a person what they are, but what they do reflects something about who they are, what their values are, and maybe a little about their heart. What I call you doesn’t really matter except to you and me. If we’re satisfied with it, nobody else matters. You said that you like me calling you the name I chose for you. So, Cowboy, why change that?”
“I try to not go backwards in life. I try to figure out where I am, and what I have to work with, and go from there. It’s kind of like cooking in a strange kitchen. Sometimes things turn out pretty good, and sometimes stuff just goes to hell.”, she said. Then she added, “I just do the best I can, and fate takes care of the rest. “.
“Wow!”, I reacted to her explanation, “That makes a ton of sense.”
“It does?”, she asked.
“Sure, a whole lot more sense than the way most people live haphazard lives. I’d say that you’re a pretty wise woman.”
“Aw, thanks cowboy! she beamed, “This is just turning out to be a gold star day for you!.”, she added and then giggled. “My mama always said that I marched to a different drummer. Do you think that’s what she was talking about?
“Probably”, I ventured, “That, and a lot of other things too.”
“What kind of things, Cowboy”, she questioned me.
“Thing’s I’m still trying to learn about you.”, I answered.
“Then go ahead and ask me your first question.”, she suggested.
“Okay.”, I responded, “But let me think first.”
“Ah, you already know what you want to ask me, more than anything else, Cowboy. Just go ahead and ask it.” She looked at me with a mischievous look in her eye, as though she knew what I wanted to ask her. That rattled me, just a little bit, maybe scared me just a bit too.
“What is it that you want me to ask you, Lori?”
“Is that your question?”, she asked me.
“No!”, I responded quickly. She had me again. “Okay.”, I said, “Here goes. What’s the situation that you’re running from Lori?”
“Who says I’m running from anything?”, she answered defensively.
“A question isn’t an answer Lori.”, I flatly replied to her. She remained silent. “You were running from something when you dove into my car.”, I prompted her.
“Okay,”, she answered, “I got caught trying to lift some cash out of the register, while I distracted the clerk with something behind him. And, it didn’t work out too well.” She went silent again.
“Lori, you were running from something before you went into that store, and that clerk already had your fake name before that. Someone who isn’t running and hiding, doesn’t use fake names.”
I glanced over at her and she was staring straight ahead, with a stern look on her faced, her lower lip was firmly pressed against the upper, and I thought I detected a slight tremble to it. Again, I broke the silence.
“Lori, I brought you out of that situation at that store, then I didn’t leave you on the side of the road, and then I trusted you with one of my guns in Canadian, even though you had earlier threatened to kill me, and I brought you out of that burning barn. We’ve had fucking glorious sex together, three times! I’ve told you what I do for a living.”
“A lot of people out there, if you just told them what I do, would know exactly who you were talking about, and either pay you a lot of money to locate me, or be willing to torture you, or kill you, just to find me, so they could kill me. I’ve trusted you with that info. I’ve brought you safely all this way. I think you can trust me with what you are running from.”
“Cowboy,”, she started, “I know you well enough now, to know that you would never do anything intentionally that would get me hurt. But, you have no idea what you would be dealing with, if you went up against the people that I’m afraid of. I know enough about you Cowboy, to know that you just might try to resolve my situation for me.”
“And, Cowboy, I don’t think that you can do that by yourself. I don’t want you getting killed, and still nothing gets changed. I couldn’t live with that. I don’t want you dead Cowboy. I want you here with me! And, even if you’re not with me, at least I’ll know that you’re out there, somewhere, and alive.” While being touched that she thought about me that way, I was beginning to get a little exasperated.
“Lori, since you’ve been with me, have you seen me use bad judgment?”, I asked her.
“Well you did get mixed up with me, and shot at that clerk.”, she said. “Then you weren’t paying close enough attention, and let me dive into your car. After I threatened to kill you, you put me back into your car and brought me with you. Then you totally misread the street layout in Canadian, and about got us killed. And, you disregarded my woman’s intuition about that airplane.”
“But, maybe the biggest judgment error of all, you’ve allowed yourself to become somewhat emotionally involved, with a woman that is obvious trouble, and that you know nothing about! So yeah, Cowboy!”, she snapped, with her voice rising, “Your judgment since I’ve met you has been possibly diminished from your normal judgment, but definitely impaired, if not outright flawed. And, might I add, not serving you too well! Now! Are you sure that, is the question that you want to ask me?”
I took a deep breath, then began again, “I’m well aware of my faults and limitations.”, I stated flatly. “I am also aware of my abilities, and what I want out of life, and don’t want. My philosophy of handling situations, actually is very similar to yours. I figure that I have to get to where I want to be, by starting from where I am. I can’t get to someplace besides where I am, by trying to start from where I’m not.”
“That sounds like one of those obvious, “duh”, statements, but you would be amazed at the people who are at point “A”, and want to get to point “D”, and try to start like they are at point “C”. That never works. If you are at point “A”, then you must to go to point “B” first, then “C”, and then, “D” might, just be achievable.”
“But, there is no way in hell to get from point “A” to point “D”, by pretending that you are
at point “C”! Because, you’re not at point “C”! If you’re at point “A”, wishing and pretending to be at point “C”, you’re not going to make it to point “D”. You’re just wishful thinking, and fooling yourself, and maybe hurting a lot of other innocent people, along with yourself. Bottom line is, you’ve got to start out from where you are, not where you want to be.”
“That’s a lot like my philosophy Cowboy.”, she said solemnly. Before you know whatcha gonna cook, you gotta know what you got to cook with. We’re pretty much on the same page, I’d say.” “Trust me with this Lori.”, I said with sincerity, “I’m not going to try to get from point “A” to point “D”, without going through all the steps, only as we are ready for each one. But, before we can even start, I’ve got to know where we are here on point “A”. “Where are we Lori? Are you ready to trust me?”
“Cowboy, I’m so scared.”, she said. I could see her fingers trembling and her voice quivered.
“Lori, I’m not without resources, or some amazingly talented people that I can call on. But right now, I’ve got to rebuild my short list of people that know that I can fully trust. I think that I can fully trust you Lori. At any rate, I’m willing to take that risk. Can you trust me Lori? Will you trust me?” She started crying again. Not the loud squalling kind of crying, but just the silent tears streaming down the face kind.
Finally, she spoke, “Cowboy, I haven’t trusted anyone since my mama and daddy, except you. When I dove into your car, just after you had fired that shot at that store clerk, how stupid was that? Well, it didn’t turn out to be stupid. It turned out to be the best decision that I’ve made in years. All because, for some reason, I did what didn’t make sense.”
“When I dove into your car though, somehow, I just knew, instinctively, deep in my gut, that I was supposed to go with you. I knew there was no other out for my situation that would work. This was the path that I was meant to take. I dove into your car with all of the confidence in the world, that I was doing the right thing. How crazy is that? I can’t explain it. That’s just the way that happened though, and look how we’ve connected ever since. So, yeah. I’ll trust you. I just don’t want you to get yourself killed because of me.”
“Fair enough.”, I responded. “And, to answer your earlier question, of whether this is the question that I most want to ask you, more than anything else; no, it’s not. But that question Lori, is a point “C” question. Right now, we’re at point “A”, and I’m trying to define clearly, just where point “A” is, because I hope, with all my heart, to get us to point “B”, and on to point “C”, and then, point “D”. Am I making any sense, Lori?”
“Yes.”, she simply answered. Lori had stopped tearing. She took a deep breath, and then started speaking, “My whole mess goes back to when I was fifteen years old. You got time to hear a long sad story?”
“There’s a gazillion miles of highway in the United States.”, I told her, “As long as Little Poss can hold up to my driving, I can find time to listen. If Little Poss, can’t hold out, then I suppose I’ll be stuck on the side of the road, with nothing else to do anyway.” I chuckled, smiled, and then told her, “Launch your story Sweetheart! I am your devoted audience.”
She smiled and then, unexpectedly kissed me on the cheek, and began, “The year I turned fifteen, my dad died. At that point, my whole world changed. He had been my security, my rock, my teacher. I learned everything from him, except cooking, and he even taught me a little of that, like cooking over a fire, and preparing camp food.”
“We lived in the middle of nowhere in Alberta, and Mama and Dad ran a hunting and fishing lodge, that was also our home. I helped with the chores of the lodge, from the time I was knee high, and Dad taught me how to shoot, hunt, fish, all about living off of the land, and as you found out in that hay loft, some martial arts.”
“In the off season, the really harsh winter months, Dad had this gig of traveling around and putting on demonstrations for different karate schools. He was fifth dan black belt. Dojos would pay him, to come put on his show to attract their new students. Those demos were one fourth martial arts, and three fourths showmanship.”
“Dad’s parents were retired circus geeks, and he had learned a lot of tricks from them. His repertoire included, not just karate, but also acrobatics, juggling, sword swallowing, and of course, a gift for banter and joking with an audience. There wasn’t a bashful bone in my Dad’s body. I didn’t think that there was anyone who could match my Dad at anything he did. I still don’t.”
“Anyway, he taught me, and would take me with him to local, and close by, gigs, and let me help in the demos. I thought it was the grandest thing, to be up there on those stages, in dojos, auditoriums, and shopping malls. When the audiences would cheer after I had been on stage, I thought I was getting close to being just like my Dad. I was devastated when he died.”
“I’m sorry, Lori.”, I offered.
“It’s okay, Cowboy. It’s been eleven years. I still miss him, but it doesn’t hurt as bad as it did then. Since then, I’ve suffered equally hard things.” I instinctively lifted my right arm and put it around her shoulders, giving her a slight hug, and she leaned into me.
“Well,” she continued, “without Dad, Mama couldn’t make a go of the Lodge. But, my story all started here in Texas. Mama’s parents lived here in Texas, and she had left to go to a cooking school in New Orleans. I don’t know the all of it, except, that’s where Mama and Dad met. Then Mama went back to Canada with Dad, and then later they had me. All I can tell you is what I remember from back then.”
“My first memories are of how much Mama and Dad loved each other, and how much they made me feel loved. I don’t remember anything before the Lodge, if there ever was. But, after Dad died, Mama kinda lost it. She couldn’t handle the lodge, and for some reason that she never told me, didn’t want to go back to her parents, and so we wound up back in New Orleans, where she had some friends.”
“They didn’t prove out to be very good friends and eventually we wound up living in a one bedroom walk up, near down town and Bourbon Street. For a while, Mama worked multiple jobs in some of the restaurants and clubs. Eventually, she was working as the reservation hostess at one of the fancy restaurants, and that’s where she met that low life, mother fucking, son of a bitch.”
“My mama was a stunningly beautiful woman. Men just fucking melted over her. But, she never took any of it seriously. Overall, she just never thought as much of herself, and that was part of the problems that we had in New Orleans, and eventually part of why she died. If she had just believed in her own worth a little more, she never would have settled for that son of a bitch that killed her.”
“She met him at the restaurant, and at first he became infatuated with her. He wooed and courted her with wining and dining, flowers, and expensive gifts, and took her places that she never would be able to afford herself. He bought her clothes, moved us into a fancy apartment, and then convinced her to marry him.”
“People tried to tell her to get away from him, because she could attract a good man, and didn’t have to settle for a slime ball, pig, son of a bitch, like him. But she always had that low self-esteem issue. After Dad died, and we lost the Lodge, she got worse. She never was herself again, until the day she died. She finally got a piece of herself back, after I lost a piece of me. And then, that son of a bitch killed her!”
“Oh Lori! I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have pushed you to tell me this. I’m sorry to dig up all this pain. Please, forgive me?”
“Cowboy, you didn’t wreak any of this pain. It’s not your fault. And, like I said, it still hurts, but just not as bad. But my hatred for that sorry assed, son of a bitch that killed my Mama? It still burns with as much fire today, as it ever did. Anyway, I’m getting ahead of myself.”
“The worthless, son of a bitch convinced my Mama to marry him. I had just turned sixteen when they got married. And, the very the day after we moved into his house, he started flirting and
courting me.”
“He scared the hell out of me, and I told Mama. She told me, that he was good to us, and to quit being a pest, and to not cause trouble. I knew what that sorry fucker was after, but Mama thought he was just being nice to me, and accepting me like his daughter.”
“That sorry assed, piece of shit never looked at me like his daughter, but he sure looked at me like one of his fucking French quarter whores! He used to talk that French shit to me, like his grease ball ass was going to seduce me or something. To this day, I can’t stand anyone talking that shit at me.”
“Hmm, yeah I noticed that.”, I mused.
“Anyway, like I said, Mama never was right again until the day she died. Things went along, and about a year later, the inevitable happened. I was seventeen when that mother fucking, man turd, fucking raped me.”
“Mama snapped out of her blind spot then, and all of her old fire came back. When he couldn’t get her under control, he either had her killed, or killed her himself. She disappeared that day. I’ve never been able to prove which way it happened, but I know he was responsible. I ran to some of my Mama’s Cajun friends and they hid me.”
“I changed my hair color to black, changed my makeup, eyebrows shape, fashion, everything. I was intent on losing my Canadian accent. I made a study of being a Cajun. I adopted the manner, customs, foods, clothes, everything.”
“My skin was naturally dark, because of the Native American blood on Mama’s side of the family, and even though Dad’s family was Scandinavian, they had intermingled with the tribes there in Canada. So, with all of that, I for all practical purposes, became Cajun. Except my hair. I had to keep that dyed. And, I didn’t take to speaking the damn French shit of course.”
“I lived with that family for three years, and became just like one of their children. They told people that I was a niece from around Biloxi Mississippi, whose parents had died. Eventually they put me back in school, and I graduated high school when I was nineteen. I stayed for another year, and after I had work, moved out on my own.” Lori was silent for a bit, and so I spoke.