Undercover Rose
Chapter 50

Copyright© 2013 by carniegirl

"Yes Carlos," I said into the phone.

"Are you upset with me Senorita?" he asked.

"I think you have that all wrong. You were upset with me," I suggested.

"Yes of course you are right. For that I am truly sorry," he said.

I had a feeling it had less to do with remorse than with economics, but I said nothing about that. "Well let's just move past it," I suggested.

"I am agreeable," he said. Big of you, I thought. "I was wondering how much you know about this area?" Carlos asked.

"Not too much," I admitted.

"There once was a Furniture plant here. The plant made chairs for the big dining rooms. The tables were made in different plant," he said.

"You mean here in Farmer's Grove?" I couldn't help being curious about that.

"No, the plant was outside Roaring Gap. About three miles north of town I think," he said.

"I see," I said. I wondered if he was suggesting I take the plant itself down. That was far more demolition than I wanted to do. "So is the plant for sale or something?"

"No the plant is gone now. It was gone when I came to this country almost ten years ago," he replied.

"So why are you telling me about it?" I asked.

"Because the family who inherited the plant and other things is now trying to avoid bankruptcy. They want to sell off their real estate outside the old plant site," he informed me.

"I'm sorry, but why would that interest me?" I said.

"Because you can buy fifty houses very cheap. I'm sure you could do something with them. If you do something, then we can work together again," he said.

"Call me tomorrow in the morning. I will give it some thought," I said. "I'm not sure I want to do that kind of thing again."

"Very well," he said.

I went back to work on the wine bottle ink drawing. I liked the progress I was making but I had a long way to go. Maybe I should take a look at the fifty houses. It would give me something to do.

I toasted a sandwich on the wood stove. I guess it was more like grilling it in butter. The difference was my cheese sandwich had bacon on it. After I discovered one could freeze bacon, I repackaged two slices in a pack then froze them. That was just so I could make bacon and cheese sandwiches.

Part of the obsessive compulsive lifestyle said I had to fry the bacon, while I drank a cup of coffee, then I had to wipe the grease from the pan with a paper towel, which would make a hell of a fire starter when tossed onto smoldering ashes. When I finished with wiping the pan, I added butter then popped in the bacon and cheese sandwich.

That sandwich, some corn chips, and a can of diet coke was my dinner. The coke cans I kept on the deck in a cooler to avoid freezing as much as possible. The cold mountain air made a natural freezer which was a little too cold, if left unaltered. The summer was a different problem, since my refrigerator was a small dorm unit. Most everything stayed in the larger chest freezer in the kitchen, who's top had recently been converted into a chopping block counter. It was a feat accomplished using a couple of the oak boards from the church's floor. Everything in the Country Store had Carlos' hands on it. Well everything except me.

I called it ritual, a shrink might call it obsessive. I wasn't at all obsessive outside the confines of Country Store. So I didn't worry too much. Maybe life inside Country Store was my real life and everything I did outside was less than real in my mind. Either way I made the sandwich the same every time, right down to the number of times I turned it.

The lightweight cast iron pan was filled with water after use, then put back on the stove to boil itself clean. That made it easier since it didn't have Teflon or any other miracle surface. It came from an antique store and probably shouldn't have been used for cooking. I didn't ask or care whether it was safe. If it gave me cancer, it gave me cancer, I thought.

I flopped the sandwich on a paper plate, even though I have a full set of restaurant dishes also from the same antique store. The owner supposedly bought them from a local restaurant. The restaurant dated back to the thirties. It had gone out of business several years previously. I seldom used anything other than paper plates never those crappy foam ones. I sometimes put them on a restaurant plate, if the food was sloppy, but the paper plate was almost always at least a liner. I did not like to wash dishes even back then.

It was dark but not bedtime. Since I was getting tired of Joan and Jose, I put on my 'fuck me' outfit, then drove to College Hill. There were at least two college clubs there with live music. I figured to try them both. I moved the shotgun inside the house, since it was too obvious a target for a smash and grab robbery. Dance clubs for young people were almost as bad as gang clubhouses for having shit stolen from your car.

It was really too cold for short skirts and thin blouses, even though I supplemented it with pantyhose and the mustard colored hunting coat. The difference between my coat, and a work coat, was the additional horizontal pocket for dead animals. None of my dead animals would fit in the pocket, so it had never been used.

The drive to College Hill took half an hour which I used to get the truck nice and toasty. That lasted for at least ten seconds after I opened the door in the parking lot of club 21. It was a dance club for college kids. At least ones who showed an ID proving themselves to be 21 or over. I was a little disappointed that they didn't ask to see my ID. It was too damn cold to object though.

Inside the place it was really loud. The music was live which I guess was supposed to make it better, but it was just loud. I drank coffee or cola of some kind since I had a long drive back home. Even after the college age young man bought me a glass of wine, I did not drink it.

"My name is Tommy," he said as he placed the wine on the table.

"Thanks Tommy, I'm Lillian," I said using my alias. Just in case things turned sideways. I knew they often did without any warning in night clubs. "So Teddy what's your major. They do still ask that to break the ice?"

"Yes and I'm a Phys Ed major," He said.

"Doesn't that usually mean you are some kind of jock?" I asked.

"Guilty, I play football," he said.

"Oh you going to the pros?" I asked.

"Not a chance, I can't even be a star in a division two school. I'm varsity and I play in every game but the runners and pass catchers get all the recognition. I'm a free safety, we just get our ass kicked," he said with a laugh.

"So where are the heroes," I asked looking around.

"They don't hang out in clubs with us peons," he said.

"So what are your plans after graduation?" I asked.

"Probably be a high school football coach somewhere," he said.

"That has got to be a downer," I said.

"Yeah," a second later he asked. "You ever been married?"

"No I never have. Why?" I asked.

"Married women are the best lovers," he said. "Divorced ones are even better."

"You don't say," I replied. "Well I guess you are out of luck then."

"So what do you do for a living?" he asked.

"Real Estate," I replied.

"That's cool, do you live in College Hill?" he asked.

"No, I live in Roaring Gap," I said. It was only about a ten mile lie, I thought.

"So you want to dance?" he asked.

"Sure, but that band isn't really a dance band," I replied.

"Yeah that is true I guess. That's the problem with live bands, they do what they do," he said. The kid could actually think.

"Do you live on campus?" I asked.

"Yeah, in a dorm. I have a friend though, he has an apartment. Now and then I take a friend there," he said.

"Friend or one of those married women?" I asked.

He just grinned. "I guess I shouldn't have mention the married woman thing to you," he said. "You haven't even touched your drink."

"No I haven't. I have a friend with the new state police. I thought I would have him run a drug screen on it," I said with a smile.

"Oh, if you think that of me, I guess I should leave," he said.

"Yeah, and take the wine with you," I suggested. I knew better than to drink anything handed to me in a bar. It was my hope that other women did as well.

After Tommy left, I was ready to go myself. I didn't mind so much that he tried to date rape me. I did mind that he was so bad at it. I probably should bust him for it. Just so some other girl, who was more innocent, wouldn't fall for it. I didn't simply because it wouldn't help my cover to get mixed up in the good deed business.

"You met Tommy," the older man said.

"Yes I met Tommy," I said.

"He is a jerk, but he is one hell of a free safety. You know smart and athletic," the man who was at least ten years older than me said.

"Frankly I know men who are smarter and a hell of a lot more athletic," I said without going into detail. X and Killer at Church Camp came to mind.

"Really, have you been with college athletes before?" he asked.

"No and I didn't know he was anything more than a horny college boy," I said.

"Yeah, he is that too. My name is John," he said extending his hand.

"Lillian," I said. "So John you obviously are not a student here. Are you a teacher or something."

"Nothing like that. I'm kind of an adviser," he said.

"Oh is that a mobster or a sports agent," I asked.

"The kid wants to be a pro ballplayer, I'm going to try to help him. Get his films to the right people that kind of thing," he said.

"I see. Do you keep him out of trouble as well?" I asked.

"If need be. Tommy seemed to think you were some kind of cop," John said.

"Not a chance, but as I told him I do have some friends who are cops," I said.

"Do you fuck them," he asked.

"What?" I asked.

"I just wanted to know how dangerous it would be to buy you a drink," he said.

"I see, no I don't fuck them, so you can go back and tell you client that he is safe," I said.

"You don't fuck your cop friends, but do you like to fuck?" he asked.

"Yes I do. Do you?" I asked him sarcastically.

"Of course, I would even fuck your smart mouth," he replied.

"If I said no, would you slip a ruffie into my coke?" I asked.

"Never had to resort to that, since one lady is as good as the next," he replied.

"I feel that way about men. One cock is as good as another," I said.

"Well then we agree on some things anyway," he said.

"It would seem so," I agreed.

 
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