In Sheep's Clothing

by Mary Monroe

  Even though my ne’er do well uncle’s son, Dwan, sent him money from his military pay in Iraq, Uncle Pete just couldn’t seem to make ends meet. He could barely pay his rent, but he was determined to have his surgery, which, by the way, I never did find out exactly what type of surgery he needed. Just that it would cost ten thousand bucks. Anyway, I got the loan and paid off his bill before they released my uncle from the hospital.

  My uncle died anyway and Daddy ended up having to take out a loan for him after all to pay for his funeral. As far as Daddy was concerned, this was the final insult. “If that no-good rascal wasn’t already dead, I’d kill him myself,” Daddy said right after my uncle’s funeral. “He done cost me a few more thousand dollars, which he wasn’t worth when he was alive.”

  “You could have had him cremated for a lot less money, Daddy,” I said, missing my useless uncle already, and feeling so sad I couldn’t think about him without tears sliding down my cheeks.

  Daddy shot me a hard hot look, folding his arms. “Cremation? Girl, I wouldn’t let nobody burn up my dog, let alone a blood relation. That Pete, he wasn’t such a bad egg when he was a young boy . . .” Daddy admitted with a gentle tone, unable to hide his own tears.

  I was sorry to lose my uncle but I was pissed off as hell that he’d stuck me with that huge bank loan. The first time I missed a payment, a few months after Uncle Pete’s funeral, the bank collector started harassing me and threatening to bitch-slap me with a lawsuit. I was still grieving so I wasn’t thinking straight during the time.

  I ignored the bank’s demands for their money. And the same day their collection agency served me with a summons, I filed for bankruptcy. That shot my credit to hell. I had attempted to obtain new credit at various stores and banks but it had been a waste of my time. As long as that bankruptcy charge-off was on my credit report—ten years—I wouldn’t even be able to get a postage stamp on credit.

  “You had all the information you needed about Ann?”

  “Like what?” I gave Freddie a stern look and lowered my voice. “And don’t talk so loud,” I commanded.

  “Well, like Ann’s Social Security number,” Freddie whispered.

  “I even got her mother’s maiden name. Everything I needed was right in her personnel file. Even her real age, which by the way is not thirty. That heifer is thirty-five.” I laughed. “And guess what else I found out?” I didn’t even wait for Freddie to respond. “Her full name is Annie Lou. Like calling herself a snooty white girl name like Ann makes up for it.”

  “Must I remind you that Ann is also my middle name?” Freddie snarled, jabbing me in the side with her elbow.

  “Sorry, Freddie Ann. I forgot. Anyway, it was one of those instant credit deals that you get by e-mail. I should have the new card real soon because for a thirty-five-dollar fee, they will do a forty-eight-hour turnaround. You want to go to Reno with me to break it in?”

  I didn’t like the way Freddie hesitated or the worried look that appeared on her face before she answered. “You know I do, girl.”

  “I know you wouldn’t do what I’m doing, but I don’t want you to feel bad for me. I know what I’m doing,” I said with confidence.

  “I sure hope so, Trudy. I sure hope so. You just better hope that Miss Thing never requests a copy of her credit report.”

  My mouth dropped open. “What do you mean?” I gasped, blinking so hard my eyes burned.

  A look of surprise, that turned into a look of exasperation a split second later, crossed Freddie’s face. “Girl, every time you apply for a credit card or any other kind of credit, it gets reported to the credit bureaus.” Freddie swallowed hard and tilted her head to the side. She seemed to enjoy telling me something I didn’t know. I just wished that she had told me sooner.

  “Now you tell me!” I hollered.

  “Now you keep your voice down,” Freddie scolded, looking around the bus. “You don’t know who these people on this bus know.”

  “What about a credit bureau?” I hissed in a low but firm voice. I could barely get the words out without choking on them. I blinked fast and hard, looking at Freddie like she was the one responsible for my sudden fear. “What can the credit bureau do?”

  “They put everything we do on a report when it involves credit. You didn’t know that? Girl, I work in a bank. I know I told you that bank employees are stupid as hell, and most of them are, but they still got enough sense to report that shit. Even the little poo-butt department stores report credit activities to the credit bureaus.”

  Freddie sighed and pursed her lips. I could tell that she was getting frustrated and impatient. But this was valuable information to me. What I knew and didn’t know could make a difference in whether or not I ended up in jail! “Why would a person want to see his or her credit report?” I asked in a feeble voice.

  Freddie bit her lip and glanced around the bus. “There are a lot of reasons why a person would want to see his or her credit report. For one thing, they might want to see if there is any, uh, unusual activity on it.”

  I gave Freddie a thoughtful look before I forced myself to smile. “But if they didn’t have any reason to think that, they wouldn’t want to see their credit report,” I said hopefully. “I got a thing in the mail one day offering me a free copy of my credit report. I just threw it away.”

  “I’m sure you did,” Freddie said, an amused look on her face. “That’s because we both already know that your credit report looks like a shit list.” Freddie shook her head and gave me an exasperated look. “OK. Say Ann was buying a new house, or a new car.”

  I shook my head. “Ann just got a new car last year, and she’s already in a condo that she’s buying.”

  “Then let’s go back to what I said first. What if Ann wanted to check her credit report just to make sure it was accurate? From what you’ve told me, she sounds like the type who would want to keep everything in her name up to date and accurate.”

  “Shit,” I said through clenched teeth. This new worry gave me something else to be concerned about. “What if I cancel that new credit card when I get it without using it?”

  “It doesn’t matter. You’ve already put in the application and you can’t stop them from putting that on Ann’s credit report. It’s too late now.”

  “Dammit. Well, when I get the card, I’ll just cancel it anyway. They will show that on the credit report, too, won’t they?”

  “Uh-huh. But as long as they can’t prove you are the one applying for credit in Ann’s name, you have nothing to worry about. Did you show your ID when you rented that mailbox?”

  “They didn’t ask for it. Well, the first place did. I told them I didn’t have it with me. So I went to another place and they didn’t ask.”

  “Then relax, girlfriend.” It pleased me to see such a huge grin on Freddie’s face. “You don’t have a thing to worry about. When did you want to take me to Reno?”

  CHAPTER 31

  “What kind of trainin’ program you need to go to when you already been workin’ at that travel agency job all this time?” Daddy asked when I told him that I had to go out of town for the weekend. “If you ain’t trained enough to do that job by now, you need to start lookin’ for a job you can do.”

  The thing about walking on the wrong side of the law is it’s hard to know when it’s time to quit. Part of the reason for that is you never know when, or if, you will have to “pay the piper,” so to speak. Each time I’d made a purchase with Ann’s company credit card in a business establishment, or charged an elaborate meal in a restaurant and made it safely out of the door, it gave me a rush that felt as good as any high I’d ever experienced. That type of high seemed even more intense when it piggybacked on one of my highs after a visit to a restaurant with a bar.

  On one hand, I had thoroughly convinced myself that I would never get caught. Every time I had entered a business with Ann’s credit card in my hand, I felt like I was in total control of my life. I felt as invincible as I would have had that credit ca
rd been a gun. I could purchase almost anything I wanted.

  At times I felt as good as I’d felt when Mama and I had patrolled the malls and bought ourselves some happiness. But the more I bought myself, the more I wanted. That scared me. In a way, I was glad that my mother wasn’t around to see what she’d started.

  I was so excited about going to Reno with Freddie that I could barely contain myself. I couldn’t even eat the pork chops and collard greens that I had prepared for dinner that Thursday evening.

  “It’s not really a training program, Daddy. It’s more of a . . . a . . . special project. Uh, a retreat.”

  “Say what?” Daddy’s hand, clutching a large mug of hot tea, froze in midair. He looked at me like I’d just revealed an evil plot. “Gal, what in the world are you talkin’ about?”

  “Uh, the training program they signed me up for is a special project that they also call a retreat,” I offered, setting the platter with the pork chops on the table in front of him. Daddy glanced at his dinner. He smiled and took long loud sniffs as he fanned steam that rose from the thick pieces of pork that I’d stacked like a small mountain. Despite the mesmerizing aroma I still could not work up an appetite.

  “You still ain’t told me nothin’,” Daddy snapped. He speared a piece of meat with his fork and attacked it with his sharp teeth, chewing so hard his eyes watered. As the suspicious look on Daddy’s face intensified, so did the web of deceit I’d started to spin.

  “A lot of companies require new employees to get on-the-job training,” I insisted, sitting down hard onto the chair across from Daddy.

  Like with so many things I’d done lately, it felt like I was pulling things out of thin air with a sleight of hand that made me look like a magician. As I continued the walk of shame that was taking me to an unknown destination, my level of deceit became sharper and sharper. I didn’t know if that was something to feel good about, or bad. I wondered at what point a person in a position similar to mine considered him- or herself a “success”? Was it a success to get away with something? I truly felt like I was there. And, because it was quite an accomplishment, was it something that one was supposed to be proud of?

  “Well, what else they want you to do? And they better be payin’ you if they got you doin’ somethin’ extra,” Daddy quipped, waving his half-eaten pork chop in my face. “Ain’t nobody gwine to take advantage of my girl.” With a sparkle in his eye, Daddy tilted his head to the side and stared at me in a way that made me feel warm all over. This was one man that I would not trade for the world. Daddy wasn’t perfect, but compared to some of his peers, he was an honorable man. I knew that he would not approve of what I was doing. As a matter of fact, it was the kind of thing that would devastate him. I just had to make sure he never found out.

  “When new hotels open up, the agency sends one of us to check them out. The hotels pay all the expenses and it’s usually just for a weekend,” I said proudly. All this was true except the part about the agency sending “one of us” to check the new hotels out. The only people that Mr. Rydell assigned to do this were the reps. And, like I was often reminded, I was just a secretary.

  “Why they sendin’ you? You ain’t nothin’ but a secretary.”

  “Well, all of the travel reps are too busy to go. And besides, they had told me when I interviewed for the job that there would be a little traveling. Didn’t I tell you that?”

  “No, you didn’t. You told me they said you and your family members could travel on a discount. Which is a waste of time because you know I ain’t fin to wanna go nowhere if it involve climbin’ up on a airplane.” Daddy had never been one to want to travel much. Even before the tragedy that had taken my mother. But after September 11, he wouldn’t even get on a train, let alone a plane. “How you gonna get to Reno?”

  “Freddie’s renting a car,” I lied, forcing myself to eat. I was the one renting the car—with the new MasterCard I had just received with the five thousand dollar credit line.

  Daddy gasped so hard he sucked in so much air he started to choke. I had to lean over and pat him on the back. With a frown he motioned me back to my seat. “That Freddie,” he muttered, shaking his head. “How did she get caught up in this?” He gave me an accusatory look, making me feel even more deceitful than I already felt. “Shouldn’t James be the one gwine with you?”

  “James volunteered to work this weekend,” I said with a sigh of relief. “Freddie was going up that way anyhow to see her cousin. You remember her cousin Butchie Malone with the Indian wife?”

  Daddy just rolled his eyes and dismissed me with a wave of his hand.

  Later that night I told James the same lie I’d told Daddy. “It’s about time you took advantage of some of the benefits of working for a travel agency,” James told me with a proud sigh.

  Even then I wondered what James and Daddy would have said if they had known just what kind of advantages I was taking.

  CHAPTER 32

  The new MasterCard had arrived just in time for Freddie and me to hightail it to Reno for the weekend. We won a little money, checked out a comedy show at Harrah’s, and ate at some of the nicest restaurants in Reno.

  When we returned from Reno I checked my new mailbox before I went home. Lo and behold, there was another credit card waiting for me with Ann Oliver’s name on it. One that I hadn’t even applied for! This one was a Visa with roses on it. It was lovely. It was definitely the style of card that Ann would have requested. I called Freddie from my cell phone as I was walking down the street to catch a bus home after I had returned the rental car to Hertz. “Why would this other bank send me a new Visa, too?” I yelled at Freddie, talking so loud other people on the street thought I was talking to them. As soon as I reached my bus stop I plopped down on the bench and started to speak in a much lower voice. “I didn’t even apply for this card,” I told Freddie. My heart was racing, I was sweating. I was glad to have yet another card but I was confused. And, I was paranoid. In the back of my mind I had formed a thought that the credit card people were on to me. By sending me a card in Ann’s name that I had not asked for, they were setting me up so they could build a case. I dismissed that thought almost as soon as I’d come up with it. I had to keep reminding myself about how stupid bank employees were.

  Freddie let out such a deep gasp she whistled. “That woman must have some dynamite good credit. When you apply for new credit and get it, the bank you got it from shares that information with other banks. The other banks send you their credit cards, hoping you will keep them so they can make them some money off you, too. It’s like a courtesy or complimentary move on their part. They know that most people are stupid enough to accept the cards.”

  “But isn’t sending credit cards at random a stupid thing for the banks to do? How do they know I am not some shylock just waiting to take advantage of their stupidity?”

  “I just told you. Another bank sent you a new credit card just because some other bank already did.”

  “Freddie, are bank people that desperate for new customers?”

  “They must be. It didn’t used to be like that, though. Back in the day my daddy couldn’t get one single credit card because he didn’t have an A-one credit history. Now with computers running the world, banks are getting fucked left and right by crooks like—” Freddie stopped so abruptly she started to cough.

  “Crooks like me?”

  “You know what I mean.” Freddie got quiet, waiting for me to speak again. I didn’t know what to say. “You know, for a woman doing what you are doing, you are way too sensitive.”

  “I’m not a crook, Freddie. You know me better than that.”

  It took Freddie a long time to respond. “I know that. One good thing about it is, as long as you pay on those cards that proves that you are not trying to defraud the banks.”

  “What? You know, I don’t like some of these words you are using. Crook. Defraud.”

  “Shut up and listen. You know I’m on your side. Now don’t quote me on this, but I th
ink they would charge you with something less serious as long as you do pay the bills.”

  “If they catch me,” I said, feeling light-headed. I was beginning to wonder which one of us had the mental problem, me or Freddie.

  “I could be wrong. The bad thing is, you are posing as another woman.”

  “But she doesn’t know that and the banks don’t know that,” I wailed. “Besides, I haven’t missed one single payment.”

  “Anyway, the banks are just as much to blame for the credit card nightmare this country has gotten itself into. Banks don’t need your business; they are just greedy as hell. They like having a lot of people at their mercy to pay that high-ass interest to have those cards. That alone should tell you how gullible banks are. But for them to send my baby girl a credit card, they gots to be asking for trouble.” Freddie laughed. I waited for a few moments and then I laughed, too.

  “Apparently, they can afford taking chances like they do,” I said.

  “And that’s why they got so much insurance. They aren’t so dense that they don’t cover themselves in case they hook up with . . . with,” Freddie couldn’t even finish her sentence so I finished it for her.

  “People like me,” I said. I was ready to hang up after that.

  By the end of the month I had two more credit cards. I also had my eye on a new car, but that was more of a pipe dream than a reality. Without the proper ID I knew that I couldn’t coordinate a scam of that magnitude. But I knew somebody who could.

  Logan Botrelle, better known as LoBo, was the love of Freddie’s life. She’d been with him for seven years and they had three adorable kids. Unlike Freddie’s former husband, a straitlaced, churchgoing man whom she had married right out of high school and divorced the same year, LoBo was all about the streets.