Chapter 5: Oh Yes, I’m the Great Pretender...

Lacy Danube dressed carefully in the junior suite at the Peninsula. Carefully, in order to look ... not-carefully dressed.

She’d had the girl in the hotel salon wash, rinse, and backcomb her asymmetric blonde shag to create even more volume. And to complete the casually-tousled look.

As she stepped out of the shower, Lacy carefully dabbed her face with the towel and spent extra time applying the foundation she’d ordered from Milan. A touch of blush, then a hint of eyeshadow.

Three-inch heels, a white thong. Lacy looked in the bathroom mirror, and decided, as she usually did when trolling for a high-level mark, not to wear a bra.

A dark green, long-sleeved, satin blouse tucked into a snow-white wrap skirt that ended just above her knees. She ignored the top three buttons and bent over slightly, studying her cleavage from different angles.

It was a little after 9:30 — the men who had dined in the hotel should be finishing dinner. Others would trickle into the Z Bar for the next two to three hours.

Time to hunt.

As a SEAL, Logan had served in hotspots around the waistband of the world. Unlike most of his fellow teammates, he didn’t get an adrenaline rush when he was sent into combat. There was a job to do, a need to figure out the best way to accomplish the goal. And he simply set out to do it without all the Hooyah.

He was methodical in his planning, and skilled in the execution of the job. And that usually meant improvising on the fly. Combat missions rarely went as they were designed.

Logan wasn’t a loner, but he lived by his own standards. In school, in the service, in ... life. After leaving the Navy, he didn’t attend boozy reunions, didn’t talk about the missions they’d carried out. He did stay in touch with a couple of other SEALs, ones he felt close to; but when he moved on to the next phase of his life, he moved on.

The first time he drove into Sausalito, Mississippi, he saw a sign for the local service clubs — Kiwanis, Lions, Rotary, Elks.

That triggered a fond memory — the earnest Rotary billboard he’d seen in one of his favorite towns in the world — Cebu City.

The large sign had been across a busy street from his hotel, and he saw it every morning from his room window:

“Of the things we think, say or do, four questions should be asked,

Is it the TRUTH? Is it FAIR to all concerned? Will it build GOODWILL and BETTER FRIENDSHIPS? Will it be BENEFICIAL to all concerned?”

As he drove south along Andre Previn Road, Logan smiled to himself, thinking about the Paul Citron plan that he and Ethan and Lacy were working on.

No, he decided, one way or another, it will not be BENEFICIAL to all concerned.

Sausalito, Mississippi was a small, insular community. Somewhat isolated from the rest of the state by both terrain and culture, the town valued its independence without making a big deal of it.

A mostly blue-collar settlement, beginning with its 19th-century roots, there were pockets of ... not wealth, but comfortable circumstances. A few residents owned land in other parts of the state. Others developed commercial and residential projects in a wide radius, north and west and east.

The owner — Shannon Trudeau — of the Chronicle and WZYD, the one radio station in town, was rumored to have some family money behind her.

There was speculation, but no real knowledge, that Marie Guidry — as modestly as she lived — had some bank.

But mainly, the town was solidly blue-collar.

Lacy snagged a seat at the end of the oval bar, perfect for being seen by fracking executives to the right and to the left.

As was usually the case this early in a game, she didn’t have a specific plan. And, she was well aware that it was likely that nothing would come of this particular visit. She compared her efforts to a salesman making cold calls. You got a nibble once in a while, but more often than not, it would turn out to be a dry run.

Her cold-call success percentage looked dismal at first glance — less than five percent. But she was doing two things that could pay off down the road. First, learning the ins and outs of a new industry. And, much more importantly, adding key players to her Contacts List.

Tonight she might meet someone who would turn out to be useful in an unrelated venture — commercial real estate, bond trading, intellectual property. Lacy had a talent, bordering on genius, of seeing disparate business connections, of discerning nearly invisible patterns. Of recognizing opportunities that hadn’t existed before she started reassembling the various pieces of a brand new puzzle.

She likened the process to alchemy — making something valuable out of base materials.

She covertly watched the incoming Z Bar crowd. Most of the men had shed ties and were at various levels of bonhomie that came from a mixture of socializing at the highest levels, and wine with dinner.

Lacy could signal disinterest with a glance, a shift in posture, a stifled yawn. She usually had to turn away two or three men before allowing one to buy her a drink. Sometimes it worked the other way — the first one to approach was a keeper.

Many nights, actually most nights, no one met her standards and she just shrugged and went back to her room.

As she waited to be hit on, she reflected on the sidebar business that she had started with that Cajun girl, Marie Guidry. Coincidentally, they had first met right here in Chicago. A different hotel though, the Fairmont.

Marie had been attending a three-day conference for municipal attorneys and had stopped in the hotel lounge — The Bar — for a nightcap. She and Lacy, recognizing kindred spirits, had found plenty to talk about.

Without seeming to probe, Lacy determined that the City Attorney had more than a little say in how Sausalito, Mississippi was run. After a second drink, they exchanged contact numbers, and Marie figured it had been a pleasant hour ... two ships in the night.

But Ms. Guidry was the first person Lacy thought of when the whisper stream brought up the name of Vincente Carbonne. Vincente was a mid-level accountant working for a connected man in Detroit.

The short version was that a rival to Vincente’s boss had set the CPA up in order to spread confusion and discord. There were certain circles where “I didn’t do it” was not deemed to be a sufficient explanation.

A St. Louis acquaintance had passed the nugget along to Lacy. Who traveled down to Sausalito and spoke frankly to Marie, “If you can hide the poor sap for two months, there’s $20,000 in it for you. Plus $5,000 to cover expenses.”

That had been a few years ago, and Vincente Carbonne had been the first of seven men — all men — who had found sanctuary on the Gulf Coast.

Word had spread — Lacy Danube could disappear people. Her compensation package went up with each successful job, and she passed some of the gains along to Marie.

The key was keeping Sausalito out of the public eye. Lacy was sole source; the program would die if word got out about the location.

And, now, events had come full circle. Lacy Danube, Logan Kelly, and Ethan Dalton would intersect through Marie Guidry.

Kate Broussard waited until Miss Kitty’s had been open for three years before she began looking at a serious remodeling project. Her net income had been up and down the first few months, but had steadied into a pretty reliable cash flow.

And, whatever civic and religious resentment there had been was now mostly history. Oh, Miss Kitty’s was mentioned in an occasional sermon, and once it was even picketed by five upstanding Christian women. There was another old scold who still tsk-tsked to her friends. But Kate’s establishment was now seen as just part of downtown Sausalito — like the thrift shops, the fire station, the Cajun and Creole restaurants.

So, after seeking Marie’s advice, Kate closed the joint for two weeks. She’d given the dancers and waitstaff a couple of hundred bucks to help tide them over.

Then the construction began.

She had her contractor — Tee-Bob Mouton — build an entirely new dressing room. He covered two facing walls with floor-to-ceiling mirrors. The south wall was entirely mirrors, while the shorter west wall held closets and lockers for clothes and costumes.

The north wall, also mirrored, had a makeup counter running its full length. Individual leather benches provided comfy seating arrangements.

The east side was one large, tiled shower room. Six showers in the open space — Kate had her girls shower after every dance routine. She told them, “Soap and water clean, girls, soap and water clean.”

To help out, Marie talked with the Sausalito Water Department. After the remodel, Kate’s monthly bill was averaging almost $700 and was starting to pinch. Marie worked out a three-way mitigation. Kate would make a monthly donation — $50 — to Meals on Wheels, which was the favorite charity of the billings manager, Orville Cozad.

In addition, Cozad was granted one free Miss Kitty’s pass per month. Sandwiches, drinks, a blowjob, tips, were on the house.

In return, Cozad had the downtown meter reader adjust the settings on one particular meter. Kate’s monthly bill was now a little over — or a little under — $200. All parties involved were satisfied.

Eulalie didn’t bother with her last class — English Lit, this semester — and rode her retro pink Vespa over to Gigi’s house. As Marie had done, Eulalie attended school when she felt like it; skipped out whenever she wanted. And still kept her grades up.

Gigi had taken good care of Marie for years. And eagerly agreed when the city attorney said, “Start helping out Eulalie, will you darlin’?”

The two Guidry sisters had an almost constant internal thrum, were quick cummers, and indulged themselves regularly.

Eulalie waved at Corporal DeWitt who was on the day shift this week. He, like every other cop in town, knew Eulalie didn’t have a license. Plus, he had the hots for her. Not that it would do him any good.

As they came out of the shower, Gigi said, “What you in the mood for, honeybunch?”

“I got bored in school. And a little horny.”

“I can take care of both of them problems, yes ma’am.”

Eulalie hopped up on the massage table, lay back, and drew her heels back to her butt. She glanced out to the family room, “Don’t close the door, Gigi.”

The naked mom giggled and whispered, “Anything you want, darlin’, anything at all.”

Sausalito High would be letting out soon, and Eulalie idly wondered where Gigi’s sons would go. Especially that cutie pie with the big brown eyes.