11 - Insider Trading

The twins were pissed off and quiet when Jewel threw her coins into the MacKay bridge toll basket. She ignored them. It cost nothing but long term hearing loss to turn the music up. She danced her shoulders and swayed left and right as she limped through traffic and onto Barrington Street.

“We’ve got a room for tonight. Goddammit...” Barbara bitched. “Whatever you need to do we can drive to Montreal tomorrow.”

“A wasted day and an extra fourteen hours in the car? Whee...” Brandy sighed. “We want to go down four more blocks. I made contact through a friend of a friend to buy some molly off some girl at a coffee shop across from Dalhousie.”

“Dalhousie’s a few blocks up on University,” Jewel said.

“Sexton campus,” Brandy explained.

“I don’t know what that is,” Jewel answered. They stopped at the light. Ahead of her, a man with a black eye and a cast, a frizzy brown haired teen tomboy, and a bundled up professional fashionista crossed the crosswalk.

“Uh, girl? Green means go.” Barbara poked Jewel a few moments later.

“You look like a marshmallow.” Natasha sneered at Hafnan. The girl was useless in her packed clothes. They had lost Giselle on the drive into town from the airport and now Natasha needed to take that frustration out on her travelling companion.

“It is big jacket.” Hafnan looked down at her blue and white parka. She fingered her earmuffs. “I like these.”

“Your boots are ugly,” Natasha said weakly.

“Yes. They are heavy too.” Hafnan lifted each foot and frowned. “I like yours.”

“Mine weren’t bought in a podunk shopping mall,” Natasha sniped.

“Thank you so much,” Hafnan said. “I am grateful you bought for me.”

“You are too kind,” Natasha groaned. “What do we do now?”

“Do we call mademoiselle auBert? She’ll tell us where to meet her, yes?”

“And she’ll tell, Papa,” Natasha growled. “Here. A cafe.”

“Oui, maitresse.” Hafnan rushed ahead to hold the door for Natasha.

Natasha entered the cafe without a word to Hafnan. It was a cozy college cafe with social justice posters on the wall. The couches and armchairs were overlarge and biting into the real estate they had to seat more people. It was bustling. Many had to, but few wanted to, take their coffees to go.

“Hi! Welcome. What would you like?” A green haired hippy lazed behind the counter while a petite little electric blue haired Energizer bunny buzzed away at the chores and upkeep.

“Espresso,” Natasha said.

“I love the accent,” Janny, according to her nametag, said.

“Merci,” Natasha sounded bored. “Also, what are you having?”

“Oh,” Hafnan perked up. She looked up to the chalkboard menus. She frowned. She could read English, slowly, but that was usually typed and clear. This was the long scrolling hand of Janny’s cursive writing. Hafnan’s smile melted. “Je ne sais pas. Un moment.”

Natasha sighed and slumped her shoulders.

“You’re visiting Canada?” Janny smiled. “Let me pick out something for you.”

“Oui? I mean, please yes.” Hafnan said.

“Perfect,” Janny nodded.

“We’ll be at that table.” Natasha made the claim as a young puffy eyed Chinese woman quickly left her dumbstruck partner. “They are done with it.”

“OK,” Janice smiled. “I’ll be right over. Roxxi. Go clean table 8.”

“Which tables get which numbers?” The blue haired girl rushed over.

Frieda bit her lip as the elevator climbed to the sixth floor. She bounced her heels in her sneakers. Her stomach rumbled. She covered her belly with her hands. Owen and Giselle ignored her.

“I am struggling to understand.” Giselle’s English was refined and practiced. “I was told the tokens pay for my loyalty.”

“And--”

“Yes, the loyalty of my betrayer,” Giselle finished.

“You have a betrayer?” Owen asked.

“She has been dealt with. Her husband too.” Giselle shook her head.

“It matters. Who is she?”

“She is a doctor of archaeology at the University of Alberta. Katelyn Parsons.”

“Oh my God!” Frieda piped up. “She’s a friend of my father’s. Or married to one at least. Her husband is my dad’s best coin nerd friend.”

“Yes,” Giselle agreed. “He manages an antiquities exporter. She falsified the records on a set of coins to mistake Monsieur Le Carre.”

“Yes, I can see how fakes wouldn’t hold up to scrutiny.” Owen rolled his shoulders back. The elevator doors were opening. His phone immediately vibrated as he stepped out of the metal box.

A missed called from Tamara. He frowned. Giselle led on with a gesture. He placed his phone to his ear as he closed the door behind the three of them.

“You girls get started while I make the call,” he directed.

“Get started?” Frieda’s eyes went wide and her lips bloomed into a crazy smile. “Me and her?”

“Yes, as you wish.” Giselle unzipped her coat and laid it across a small table.

“You’re so pretty!” Frieda beamed at Giselle. “I always figured if I had a lesbian thing it’d be with a more butch girl.”

“Is that your preference?” Giselle asked as she unbuttoned her blouse. “Please, answer as you disrobe.”

“Hi, you called?” Owen smiled as he watched his pair.

“That bimbo’s here! Motherfucker! I’m going to kill her!” Tamara exploded.

“Don’t murder anyone, I can’t use your body in prison,” Owen half-joked. “You really weren’t mad at Janice?”

“What? She introduced me to you and got me out of my mom’s place and--”

Tamara held the phone from her face as she screamed out her profanity.

“So she’s your enemy?” Owen understood. “Why not the guy?”

“We were young and stupid and bit off more than we could chew. I’ll--Wait? She’s my enemy. You own her?”

“Own her body.”

Giselle turned at Owen’s words. She unfastened her bra, slowly taking off each garment in steps. He wasn’t watching. Frieda had scrambled naked and now bounced on the bed in a kneeling position. Giselle put her folded bra on her pile of clothes and aimed to pull off her panties.

“I am to take the lead,” Giselle volunteered as she approached the bed. She preferred to be seduced but this teenager was wide-eyed and over-run. Frieda wasn’t about to take the reins. “Start with a kiss.”

“Describe her,” Owen said into his phone.

“OK, well her name is Jewel O’Malley, and going to be Jewel Gregory.” Tamara was grinding her teeth. “She’s 23 I think. Has big tits, long brown hair. That tan is so fake! I want to rip the eyelashes off of--”

“Did she see you?” Owen endeavoured to cut off Tamara’s boiling rage.

“I don’t think so!” Tamara growled. “Sorry. I’m sorry. She’s at Janice’s cafe. No! They’re coming out!”

It was clear she was running to hide. Owen looked up to Giselle and Frieda making out naked on the bed. Frieda was enthralled with Giselle’s breasts. Giselle was mercenary in how and where she touched and kissed Frieda. The frizzy haired Canadian had freckles across her cheeks and onto her shoulders. She kicked her hips as Giselle’s fingers parted Frieda’s sex.

It was a beautiful scene. Owen almost forgot he was on the phone.

“She just sold them something! Goddamn harpy has her bitches with her and--”

“Cool down, Tamara. Them? Bitches? How many women are you stalking?”

“Three?” she seethed. “Jewel and her identical twin sluts.”

“Goddammit. Twins? That is enticing,” he smirked. “The fuck is it worth two coins. They’d have to be hotter than Zera and Elizabeth.”

“Huh? Who am I hotter than?” Tamara asked.

Tamara was the hottest woman Owen had consensually fucked. He didn’t know if that made him dislike his coins. He smiled. “You are hotter than all of the ugly women not worth my time. I don’t think Jewel’s little guard dogs are worth mine.”

“Really?” She breathed relief and confidence. “I’m going to follow Jewel so you can ambush her.”

“Ambush?”

“Yeah, she needs to know that she doesn’t get to take my man. My man takes her.”

Owen looked at the phone. Tamara had hung up on what was clearly her warcry. He almost said something. Frieda and Giselle were moving, Giselle mounted Frieda’s thigh and stared down at the girl. Owen reached for his belt buckle.

Hafnan followed Natasha into the pawn shop. The door rattled, locked.

“Merde!” Natasha spat. She kicked the metal door.

“Back in 15 minutes.” Hafnan pointed to a sign inside the door.

“I can read, you slut!” Natasha barked.

Hafnan frowned and took two steps backwards.

“Oh, careful there.” Hafnan landed into flat upturned hands. She was pushed a step towards Natasha. Hafnan turned around. A slight redheaded woman wore a soft beige coat and a thick knit toque. She scowled. “Great ... Customers.”

“You? I thought this was the store of Kirk Marcusson,” Natasha said.

“Yes, and I am employed here,” the woman said. “If you are looking for Kirk, he’s meeting with a seller off site.”

“I am Natasha le Carre,” Natasha said.

“Le Carre?” The woman pushed the door in and led the trio into the store. “You are the wife or daughter of Maxim?”

“Daughter,” Natasha confirmed. Her face twisted at the suggestion of wife.

“Sorry, very rich man, very beautiful woman. It can be difficult to figure out the relations.” The woman’s compliment made Natasha stiffen. “My name is Val, I am Kirk’s fiancee.”

“Congratulations!” Hafnan beamed. She was much brighter than Natasha and Val. It was clear Natasha was sneering at the old clocks on brass hooks, collector spoons on decorative boards, and hockey cards in hard plastic. Hafnan wanted to explore every item and story. The clerk was the only thing in the store that made Hafnan feel unwelcome.