No Such Thing as a Free Ride

by Shelly Fredman

  Little Red shoved the money back into my hands and turned toward the wall, his pants slowly slipping down around his knees.

  A uniformed officer approached us. “You too, little girl. Up against the wall.”

  “Me? What did I do?” I asked, holding a fistful of cash.

  The cop looked at me. “Last time I checked prostitution was illegal in this state. You have the right to remain silent.”

  Chapter Seven

  It took two hours and a phone call to my friend, Vince Giancola, in the D.A.’s office to get me sprung. I cried all the way to the precinct. Between the heat and the tears, my face blew up to unnatural proportions. As if being booked on prostitution charges wasn’t humiliating enough, my mug shot looked like the Sta Puff Marshmallow Man.

  “Don’t even tell me. I don’t want to know,” Vince said when I tried to explain the series of unfortunate events that led up to my arrest. “I’ve made it go away, but I couldn’t do anything about your car being impounded. Those signs are there for a reason, Brandy. You’ve got to stop acting like the rules don’t apply to you.”

  I knew he was scared which is why he was yelling at me about the parking violation. The truth is I was scared too. I’d thought I’d played it smart this time. I’d had no intention of tracking down Little Red on my own (whose nickname became apparent the moment he’d dropped his drawers). But things just happen sometimes, and it reminded me that I needed to be better prepared.

  I’d managed to keep my identity safe from the person who counted the most. As far as Little Red knew, I was just some middle class suburban, college student looking for a walk on the wild side. But that still didn’t solve my problem. I was no closer to finding out what happened to Star than I was when I started out in the morning.

  “I think this kid could be in real trouble, Vince. Nobody’s seen her in weeks.”

  “I understand that, kiddo. Believe me, there isn’t a day that goes by that I’m not plagued by shit like this. We’ve got a city full of throw-away kids. Their parents don’t want them, the authorities don’t know what the hell to do with them, and then they get preyed on by the dregs of society. But my hands are tied. Unless someone files a Missing Persons Report, we can’t spend the funds to go looking for her. Life sucks, sometimes, don’t it?”

  Vince dropped me off at the impound lot. “Uh, listen,” I said, climbing out of the car, “Let’s just keep this between the two of us, okay? I mean there’s no reason to mention anything to DiCarlo or Frankie, right?” Some things are just better left unsaid.

  *****

  Just as I pulled into the South Street Boxing Gym’s parking lot, my cell phone rang. I’d forgotten my Bluetooth, so I’d stuck the phone in between my legs for easy access while driving. It was set on vibrate which gave me a little thrill, all the more appropriate because the caller was Nick.

  “I just got off the phone with Sal,” he began. “He said he’s got a spot for Crystal at one of his safe houses. She can come and go as she pleases, but I think she’s going to like it there.”

  “Hard to tell what she’ll like. She’s a little on the moody side.”

  Nick laughed softly and another thrill went through me. “Sal’s coming by my apartment in a bit. Why don’t you drop by with Crystal? It will give them a chance to meet. If she’s comfortable with him, he can take her back with him. If not, we’ll move on to Plan B.”

  “There’s a Plan B?”

  “There’s always a Plan B, darlin’.”

  *****

  Uncle Frankie was in his office talking to a guy in grey sweats. Crystal was slumped in a chair, tension crawling out of her pores.

  “She bit me, man!” he growled at Frankie. “I didn’t say nuthin’ to her and she bit me.” He rolled up his sleeve, shoving a massive arm in front of my uncle’s face. There was a definite bruise, but it didn’t look like it broke skin, so I really couldn’t see what all the fuss was about.

  “I need a Tetanus shot!”

  Crystal stood, glaring at the guy, and I scrambled to wedge myself between them. “Oh, come on, man. She’s just a kid. Quit being such a baby.”

  Frankie shot me a look and turned to the guy, giving him a friendly slap on the back. “Listen, Ray, it’s just a little misunderstanding. You said hello to her and she thought you’d dissed her. It was a natural mistake. How about we just let it go and I throw in free workouts for the next month?”

  Ray nodded a begrudging assent. “Yeah, awright.”

  “So we’re cool?” Uncle Frankie asked, guiding him out the door. “Great.”

  He turned back to Crystal and me and sighed deeply.

  “So,” I said, brightly. “If you can just pay Crystal for helping you out today, we’ll be on our way.”

  *****

  With a “fighter’s” nose and muscular frame Father Sal appeared more at home in a boxing ring than behind a pulpit. In fact, Nick once told me that when Sal was a kid he had trained to become a professional boxer, until one day he “got religion” and never looked back. He sat, now, on Nick’s couch, patiently fielding questions from Crystal.

  “So if I hate it there, I don’t have to stay?”

  Sal gave a nod toward Nick. “Nicky says you’re smart and capable of taking care of yourself. He also told me you need to lay low for a while, so my offer is good for however long you want it. You’re free to stay or go. It’s entirely up to you.”

  Nick handed her a cell phone. “Just say the word and I’ll come and get you.”

  Crystal turned to me. “What do you think?” I was touched by the show of vulnerability in her question.

  “I would trust these guys with my life,” I said. “Have trusted them,” I amended quietly.

  She gave a short shrug. “Okay. I’ll go.” That settled, she added, “Can I use the bathroom?”

  “Down the hall, first door on your left,” Nick directed her.

  While she was gone I filled Nick in on my encounter with Little Red. “All I can say is, thank God for overzealous meter maids. If the cops hadn’t come along and seen my car parked illegally, I’d be part of his street harem by now.”

  Nick was quiet for a moment. “Where did you say this low-life hangs out?”

  “As of this afternoon the city jail. Look, Nick, I appreciate you wanting to avenge my honor and all, but really, I’m fine. What I need to do now is to construct some sort of plausible timeline to pinpoint just when Star disappeared. Only everyone’s recollections as to the last time they saw her are so vague. And who are my sources anyway? A kid who doesn’t know where her next meal’s coming from, let alone what day it is, and a drug-addicted prostitute named Harmony Valentine.”

  I was trying to stay calm, but from everything I’ve seen on Law and Order, Criminal Intent, the longer someone goes missing, the less chance for a happy ending.

  “Oh, and did I mention that Bunny practically has the key to my house?”

  Crystal walked back into the living room holding one half of a pair of diamond earrings. It was distinctly feminine and mega expensive. I was torn between hoping they were Nick’s, (which would make him a cross-dresser) or left behind by one of his many female admirers. Both alternatives left me wanting to throw up.

  “I found this on top of the counter in the bathroom. It’s pretty,” she said. “Can I have it?”

  Nick gently took it from her outstretched hand. “I’m afraid the young lady who left it here may want it back.”

  She left it here on purpose, just for an excuse to come back, the slut! I would never use such a corny excuse… except for the time I left my Game Boy over at Danny Pelosi’s house—and he wrapped it up and gave it to Tina Delvechhione for her birthday!”

  Sal cut me a look.

  He couldn’t possibly know my feelings for Nick. My face is the picture of nonchalance.

  “Well,” he said, rising off the couch, “I think we’d better head out now if we’re going to beat cross-town traffic.”

  I walked Crystal to the front
door. “I’ll let you know the minute I hear anything. And you can call me whenever you want… not that you’d need me or anything—”

  She cut me off with a brief, embarrassed hug, surprising the heck out of me. Then she opened the door and walked out without a backward glance.

  Nick was still on the couch, but he rose as Sal approached. “Mi hermano, gracias por tu ayuda.” I didn’t understand the words, but there was no mistaking the sentiment.

  Father Sal grinned. “It’s what I signed up for.”

  The two friends clasped hands, ending in a familial embrace. Then Sal walked over to where I was standing at the door. He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and leaned in close to my ear.

  “Hang in there, Little One. He needs you.”

  The air in the room suddenly ceased to exist as the weight of Sal’s words sunk in.

  Nick needs me? How could that be? Nick is an island, beautiful and self contained. He doesn’t need anyone, least of all me.

  By the time I got my breath back, Sal had left. I returned to the living room feeling confused and not a little pissed off. How long had Nick been back from his trip before the parade of bimbos had begun forming a line at his door? And yet, the person who knew him more intimately than anyone else in the world said he needed me. It just didn’t make sense.

  Nick had settled on the couch again, a glass of single malt nestled in his hand. His look was pensive, and for a moment I got the feeling he’d forgotten I was still in the room.

  I coughed to let him know I was there. He looked up from his drink and smiled, the mood broken.

  “Well, I guess I’d better head out too,” I told him, hoping he’d beg me to stay.

  He gazed at me with smoldering eyes. “There is no other woman, Brandy. I bought those earrings for you. They’re yours if you want them… as am I.”

  “It was good seeing you, Angel. Keep in touch.”

  Keep in touch? What the fuck?

  “Why do you have that photo of me in your nightstand drawer?”

  Oops! “I mean thanks for helping Crystal out. I’ll see you around.”

  I bolted toward the door and I almost made it when a strong hand landed on my shoulder, stopping me dead in my tracks.

  “Nice try, darlin’.”

  “Nick, I’d love to stay and chat, but John and I have tickets to the uh… The Jackson Family Reunion concert… minus Michael, so it’s not technically the whole family…”

  “Do you want to tell me how you knew about the photograph?”

  “Um, not really.”

  He put both arms on my shoulders now and sat me down on the couch.

  “Didn’t anyone ever teach you it’s not polite to snoop in other people’s belongings?”

  I couldn’t tell by his expression if he was amused or mad at me, but I’d had a good three months to sit on this question and I wanted an answer.

  “Yeah, okay, the secret’s out. I’m a compulsive drawer opener. But that photo cost $1200 bucks. Why did you buy it, Nick?”

  Nick let out a soft sigh. “I saw the photo in the art gallery window and I thought it would embarrass you to have it on display, so I bought it. My intention was to give you the photo but I left town before I had a chance to deliver it. Brandy, I’m sorry if you read more into it than there was.”

  “Don’t be silly. I’m fine. It was really thoughtful of you and—oh hell, Nick! I’m in love with you!”

  Shit! Well, ‘in for a penny, in for a pound.’ “I’m in love with you,” I repeated, not bothering to hide the tears that welled up in me. “Look, I know I’m not telling you anything you haven’t already figured out on your own. I’m just tired of pretending, y’know?”

  I sat back on the couch, emotionally drained and yet, somehow, relieved. Tossing pride out the window was oddly freeing.

  Nick slid over and wrapped himself around me, tucking me into the crook of his arm.

  “I wish I could give you what you want, Angel. What you deserve. But it’s just not in me.”

  I leaned into him, resting my head on his shoulder. “You don’t owe me a thing, Nick. You’ve been there for me since the moment I met you, and I couldn’t ask for a better friend. You can’t help how you feel any more than I can. So, if all you have to offer is a friendship with benefits, I’m willing to take it.”

  He hugged me closer, his voice filled with extraordinary tenderness. “Do you have any idea how dear you are to me?”

  “I’m beginning to.” I sat up, facing him. “And just so’s you know,” I added, wrapping my arms around his neck, “I don’t plan on giving up.” And then I kissed him.

  Wow. Who knew that honesty could be so empowering?

  I tasted the single malt on his lips as I pressed my mouth against his. He was surprised, but his response was immediate. He groaned and fisted his hands in my hair. Rubbing my lips seductively against his, I delivered the kiss of a lifetime and then I pulled back suddenly and slipped out of his arms. “Gotta go,” I told him, smiling down at the bulge I’d created in the front of his jeans.

  “Brandy Alexander, you do not play fair,” he sighed, but he was smiling too.

  Nick walked me to the elevator and pressed the button. “So now that Crystal’s safe, what’s next on your agenda?”

  I shrugged. “Check the local hospitals and city morgue to see if Star’s turned up there, check out that license plate, find Bunny before she finds me… enroll in Clown College.”

  He thought I was joking. Unfortunately, I wasn’t. Eric thought it would be “hilarious” and a real ratings booster.

  The elevator doors opened, revealing a fairly hefty, uniformed delivery guy. He was wrestling with an enormous crate that was balanced precariously on a dolly.

  “Sorry,” he said, trying to swing past us. “The service elevator is broken.”

  As I scooted out of the way, my eyes settled on the top of the box. “Oh, Nick, it’s for you.”

  “Nicholas Santiago?” the guy asked.

  Nick gave a curt nod, his eyes roving over the crate. His mood, which a moment ago had been light and playful, darkened.

  The return address said Bogotá Columbia. My imagination leaped into overdrive. What could be in the crate? Guns? Well, that didn’t make any sense. Wouldn’t he be sending them to third world countries instead of the other way around? Drugs? No, Nick didn’t seem the type to mess with that. And anyway, I’m sure if he was transporting illegal drugs he wouldn’t use Fed Ex… Eighty pounds of coffee?

  “Sign here, please,” the man said. “And I’m going to need some I.D.” He shrugged apologetically. “Special orders.”

  “No problem,” Nick said, and took out his wallet.

  “That’s a really big box, Nick. I wonder what’s in it.”

  Okay, so it wasn’t the most subtle hint in the world, but at least I wasn’t jumping up and down yelling, “Open it, open it,” like I wanted to.

  The elevator door began to close. Nick reached out and forced it back open, ushering me inside. “Don’t want you to be late for Clown College, darlin’.”

  “But —”

  The elevator door closed. Crap.

  *****

  Glenda Maroni is my mother’s third cousin and a 40 year employee of the Department of Motor Vehicles. Cousin Glenda has a voice like a chainsaw. She smells like Johnny Walker Red and Dentine Gum and she once set fire to the tip of her nose in an ill-fated attempt to re-enact a classic I love Lucy episode. Growing up, I didn’t see much of Cousin Glenda. My mother thought I had enough crazy ideas of my own without adding Glenda’s to the mix.

  I found her the next day at her cubicle typing up a report, a lit Marlboro balanced on the edge of an ashtray that sat atop a pile of papers on her desk. She was about to pick it up as I walked over to her, automatically checking to see where the fire extinguisher was located.

  “Cousin Glenda, it’s Brandy.”

  Glenda looked up. “Brandy? Get out! Come here! Give me a hug! Look at you! You’re all grown up. I hea
rd you bought your parents’ place. Are you still going out with the cop? What’s on your face, honey? Is that a pimple?” Before I could squirm out of her grasp, she gave me a “wet thumb cheek rub.” Eewww.

  After the preliminary familial catching up, I finally got to the reason for my visit. “Listen, Cousin Glenda.” I shot a discreet look around, lowering my voice to a mere whisper. “I have a huge favor to ask you.”

  She compensated for my whisper with a full-on shout. “Anything for you, sweetie. You were always my favorite.”

  I tried again, edging closer. “This is kind of a personal matter—”

  “Oh my Lord, you’re pregnant! Does your mother know? Don’t worry, honey, in this day and age it’s not the worst thing that could happen.”

  “Glenda,” I all but screamed, “I’m not pregnant.”

  “You’re not?”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “Oh, thank God. A kid would make your life miserable. Now, take my Bernardo. Sweetest baby you could imagine, but—”

  “Um, Cousin Glenda, I need you to find out who owns a vehicle with a vanity license plate that reads “SLIMEY 1.”

  “No problem, hon. I’ll just be a sec.”

  The legality of dispensing with private information to anyone that walked through the DMV doors never seemed to cross her mind. And being the non judgmental type, I figured it would be rude to mention it.

  Through the magic of technology, Glenda got the information in a matter of minutes. She was frowning.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “That license plate doesn’t exist, honey. Are you sure you got it right?”

  I rooted through my bag and found my notebook. “SLIMEY 1,” I read aloud.

  “No good,” she said, double checking.

  Oh double crap! Harmony gave me the wrong license plate number. Well, that’s just great. I now have exactly zero leads. “Listen, thanks for trying, Cousin Glenda.”