Chapter 2

My first recovery operation was a total cluster fuck.

Sure, I had the deep-throated Lincoln and one of Uncle Vito’s goons to give me back-up and yet I still managed to let the sneaky prick out of the trap like a fucking cheerleader without a clue.

His name was Carlos the Rat.

I don’t know how he got that nickname, but it was not a good one to have in our neighborhood which operated on the premise of “Deaf and Dumb” regarding all subjects at all times.

My helper on the first job was a dark-skinned huge goon that seldom spoke in English, but he would “rap” in French when driving the car or at odd moments that were filled with danger. I personally didn’t like the rap-style music in English but in French it was more like sheer torture akin to having my fingernails pulled out with evil intent.

I should have figured that Carlos was bad news from the drug afflicted eyes he tried to keep from making contact with my inquisitive glances in his direction right after we cornered him in his mother-in-law’s basement hiding under a large cardboard carton in the corner. The little prick had a short-handled ax in his hand, but I could tell his heart was not in resisting because he was already wetting his pants before we managed to dig him out of his hiding place.

Unfortunately, I had a sudden urge to up-chuck my breakfast and had to make an emergency dash for the bathroom. I heard a racket in the living room but had my head in the commode with other business to take care of.

As soon as I could get myself back together, I ran back into the other room to see my French-rapping oddball partner kissing the carpet and the open front door told the tale of woe about our aborted attempt to apprehend our drug-addled target. I jumped over the body of Alphonse and ran outside to no avail. That guy was out of sight and long gone. He was probably laughing at our uncoordinated teamwork and would carry the tale back to Uncle Vinnie blaming us for his easy escape.

Alphonse was out like a light whatever the fuck that means and I called the office for help in transporting him to the urgent care nearby because we didn’t have any time to screw around with the fucking emergency room with its exorbitant fees for waiting.

The silly fuck was moaning about his “poor head” and giving me dirty looks because I had bailed out to the bathroom at a vital moment. All the time, I was wondering if it wasn’t some sort of “morning sickness” related to my over-enthusiastic humping actions earlier that month. I was usually careful about my horizontal activities and felt reasonably certain it was merely a case of something I ate from the gas station. I really needed to curb my appetite for snacks that broadened my ass and upset my stomach at the wrong times.

Vinnie gave me a call and told me, “That prick Carlos is down at Sullivan’s Bar and Grill. Don’t wait for Alphonse because he is dead weight nursing his aching head. Get your ass down there and slap the cuffs on that little cocksucker and bring him to the magistrate’s office before close of business today.”

I saw Carlos wolfing down a burger and fries in the corner booth and slid in next to him not giving him a chance to lower his wrist from his face. I cuffed him to my wrist and shoved the key inside my bra vowing to bring him down to the courthouse as soon as he finished his burger. He was quite apologetic about his earlier escape and told me, “I had to get out of there. I can’t stand that fucking rap shit and that guy was doing it in some fucking foreign language.”

I found that to be a reasonable excuse and we drove down to the courthouse with him drooling on my cashmere sweater and his hand next to mine on the steering wheel. I knew he didn’t want any problems with Vinnie because he was the go to guy when it came to making bail for most of the low life fuckers in our neighborhood. The fact he did it mostly on credit made him unique in the bail-bond business and he did a brisk business seven days a week.

We got him arraigned in record time and I went straight home to take a much-needed shower and a cold beer from the fridge to mollify my still-upset tummy.

My black pussy Scotty was waiting for me right inside the door with an accusing look in his glaring green eyes and I felt immediate regret for leaving him alone the entire day. Still, a girl had to make a living and it looked like my ass belonged to Uncle Vinnie.

My land line blinked out a call waiting, and I listened to Vinnie thanking me for getting Carlos to the courthouse on time for his hearing. He also gave me my next assignment which was to round up Donna Jones due to give a deposition at the prosecutor’s office no later than ten AM the next morning. I knew Donna from way back and was sad that she had turned to prostitution to make ends meet. Apparently, she had witnessed her John get whacked by a pair of Chinese guys as he gave it to her from behind in the Motel Six next to the bus station. The fact she was face down in a pillow at the time probably saved her life because the two guys figured she never got a good look at them. They didn’t know that she had seen them both waiting inn the lobby and picked them out of the book right off the bat as soon as she talked to the lead investigator.

Donna lived in a rooming house right next to the soccer field and there were always groups of guys wearing short pants and skin-tight shirts on the street and kicking balls off the brick wall of the deserted warehouse next door. I didn’t mind the once over they gave me with lots of attention to my round butt. I really needed to cut down on the snacks because it was getting bigger every day.