Chapter 18

Billy Bob Jenkins called his pal George Zimmer at Capital City Pawn.

“Hey, George, my young friend who bought the deer rifle needs your help again.”

“What does he want this time?” asked George.

“I think I better let him ask you that in person,” Jenkins replied.

“Saturday is my busy day but send him over. I’ll make some time for him.”

Jerry was at the pawn shop ten minutes after Billy Bob called. This time George was stationed by the cash register with three customers in front of him. George was taking in money and returning pawned items to their owners. There were two attractive women about Jerry’s age at either end of the long counter. One was sitting on a stool buffing her nails, and the other was showing engagement rings to a young couple.

When George looked up and saw Jerry, he held up his index finger in the universal sign for ‘in a minute’.

Jerry nodded and passed the time looking at the knives on display. He saw an almost new Buck Model 110 folding knife with a leather sheath, just like the one he’d bought at the PX in Saigon. The knife didn’t make the trip to Chillicothe, so he called the woman sitting on the stool over to him.

She looked Jerry up and down then flashed him a megawatt smile.

“What can I do for you, sugar?” she asked in a captivating southern drawl.

Jerry returned her flirtatious smile and said, “Can you show me that knife with the dark wood handle?”

“Of course,” she said, and she reached under the glass counter top and fished out the knife.

Jerry took the knife and flicked it open, and the blade rotated smoothly on the hinge pin. There were some scratches on the brass portion of the handle but nothing extreme. The leather case was in good shape and the brass snap closure worked as it should. The knife had a round sticker on it listing the price as twelve dollars. It was a fair price since the knife he bought at the PX was sixteen dollars and that was seven years ago.

“I think I’ll take it,” Jerry said.

The woman leaned over the counter, “There is room in the price for you to dicker,” she whispered.

Jerry nodded as he caught a whiff of her intoxicating perfume, “In that case I’ll give you eleven for it,” he said with a laugh.

“Sold!” she crowed.

George looked up at her exclamation and smiled when he saw Jerry taking out his wallet. Jerry was fast becoming one of his best customers. Jerry took a ten and a single out of his wallet and handed it to her.

As she took the money, Jerry said, “Ma’am I don’t mean to be offensive, but you smell really good!”

The woman’s smile lit up her pretty face, “Why thank you, Sugar, that’s not offensive at all.”

Before their conversation could go any further, George ambled down to them, and the woman departed to put Jerry’s money in the cash register.

“How can I help you this time, buddy?” George asked.

“Hello, Mister Zimmer, can we talk somewhere private?”

George quirked his eyebrows but motioned Jerry to step over to the end of the counter out of earshot of employees and customers.

“Okay, spill it,” George Zimmer instructed.

Jerry felt himself blush down to his toes as he stammered his request.

“I need to hire a good-looking fallen dove, and Billy Bob said you might know how I could do that,” he whispered.

George looked at him, incredulous at the unexpected request, then he barked a laugh.

“Come down here, Lola. I think young Jerry needs to talk to you,” George said to the woman who sold him the knife.

As the woman was finishing at the cash register, George said sotto voce, “Lola and Tanya over there dance at the Top Hat Gentleman’s Club downtown. They rent a house from me and work here on Saturdays in exchange for part of their rent. She might be just what you need.”

Lola strolled up, “Whatcha’ need, boss?” she asked.

“Young Jerry here might need your help,” George said, and he walked away.

Jerry was at a loss as to what to say with Lola standing in front of him, head tilted inquisitively.

He started twice and stopped in embarrassment.

Lola put her hand on his and said, “Spit it out, Sugar, you aren’t going to say anything I haven’t heard before.”

Jerry could feel his ears burning fire engine red, but he finally managed to ask what he came for.

“Miss Lola, my name is Jerry Donavan and I need to hire you next time you have a day off,” he whispered in a rush.

Lola gave him another brilliant smile, “Sure, Sugar, you are too cute,” she said, and then added, “I’ll make it a date you’ll never forget.”

Jerry blushed even redder. “I’m sure you could, Miss Lola, but I need you for something different.”

Lola gave him a look of disbelief and said,” Your loss, Sugar, but what else could I possibly do for you?”

So, Jerry laid it out for her, couching it as a prank he was playing on a friend.

“All I need you to do is get him to stop his motorcycle. Me and my grandfather are going to pretend to kidnap him and take him to a surprise bachelor party. As soon as we grab him, you drive home with whatever you charge for the day in your pocket,” Jerry explained.

“And that’s it?” she asked, her voice dubious.

Jerry nodded affirmatively, “Yep, that’s it.”

Lola thought for a few seconds and said, “Bring your grandfather to the club tonight so I can meet him, and he can tell me more about this friend. Then I’ll decide.”

Jerry agreed. Then he wondered- how he was going to convince his grandfather to go to the Top Hat Gentlemen’s Club. So, of course Jericho Hatchett jumped at the opportunity.

“I always wanted to go to a strip club,” Hatchett enthused.

The two Jerichos arrived at the Top Hat at eight that evening. They arrived in Hatchett’s Plymouth Valiant. The old car looked out of place in the lot full of fancy late model cars, but Hatchett led the way through the door as if he owned the place. A very large bouncer stopped them just inside the door.

“Two drink minimum, paid in advance,” he rumbled.

Jerry paid the five dollars for each of them and started moving towards a table on the side of the room; but his grandfather diverted them to a table near the stage.

“Let’s sit here so I can see the stage,” Hatchett said.

Jerry was gob-smacked but took a seat. Seconds later Tanya showed up at their table. She was wearing a G-string and carrying a drink tray.

“Lola said you were coming tonight, she just finished dancing, so she’ll be out in a minute. Meanwhile, what are you drinking?” Jerry ordered a beer he didn’t intend to drink, and his grandfather surprised him by asking what Lola drank.

Tanya smiled and said, “Rum and coke.”

“Then I’ll have a rum and coke,” said suddenly suave Hatchett.

True to Tanya’s prediction, three minutes later Lola strolled up to their table and gracefully folded herself into a chair. Ignoring Jerry, she batted her eyes and extended her hand towards his grandfather,

“I’m Lola,” she said.

Jerry almost fell out of his chair when his grandfather leaned forward and kissed the proffered hand. “Jericho Hatchett, and you smell almost as good as you look,” he said.

Lola did look good. She was maybe five foot six with a toned and fit compact body. Her pasty covered breasts were medium sized sitting high and firm on her chest. Her butt cheeks, not hidden at all by the flimsy G-string she wore, were also firm and peach shaped. Her legs, perched on four-inch platform heels, were long and sleek.

Jerry’s eyeballs ping-ponged back and forth between his grandfather and Lola as they flirted outrageously. In minutes Lola was drinking the rum and coke Hatchett bought, her chair scootched next to his. She only moved when she had to replace Tonya as a waitress while Tonya danced her set. When Lola went to take over waitress duties, Jerry leaned towards his grandfather.

“What are you doing, Papa? She’s younger than me,” Jerry said.

Hatchett smiled, “Son, I’m old, but I ain’t dead. If she needs a father figure, I’m gonna volunteer.”

Jerry shook his head and sat back in his chair. After Tanya’s set, Lola danced, and it seemed to Jerry that she spent most of her time on the stripper pole sending steamy looks at Jericho Hatchett. When she finished her set, she returned to the table occupied by Jerry and his grandfather. She guzzled down the second rum and coke Hatchett bought her without sitting down, then she grabbed Hatchett’s hand and pulled him to his feet.

“I’m taking Jericho to the back to talk about what y’all want me to do. We’ll be back in ten minutes or so,” Lola said.

Jerry was struck speechless as Lola led his grinning grandfather away.

They left the Top Hat at a few minutes till midnight. Jerry’s grandfather had insisted they stay through Lola’s last set. All total, Hatchett spent thirty minutes in the back room ‘discussing Lola helping them.’ Hatchett wouldn’t say what else happened back there, but he had lipstick on his ear, and he smelled like Lola’s perfume.

Deflecting Jerry’s questions, Hatchett said, “The important thing, my boy, is Lola has agreed to help us. Which means we need to decide on a date and time, and we need to find a place to do this.”

It was ten o’clock on the Monday morning after the Fourth of July, eight days after the meeting at the Top Hat. Lola was standing at the edge of the woods beside County Road 16. Ironically, she was less than a hundred yards from the blind curve where Jerry’s mother and sister were found. Lola was wearing a pair of tight short shorts, go-go boots, and a thin knit shirt without a bra. Jerry was hidden in some underbrush right behind her. Papa Hatchett was in his car a quarter of a mile away. He was parked beside the road facing Lola.

Hatchett’s job was to signal when a lone biker approached the curve so Lola could walk out to the road, stick out her thumb, and pretend to be hitchhiking. They had been at it an hour before they heard a loud Harley in the distance. Hatchett flashed his lights and Lola walked to the edge of the road. As soon as the motorcycle passed by him, Hatchett also pulled out onto the road.

The biker immediately slowed down when he saw Lola with her thumb out. The biker was wearing Son of Satan colors over a red t-shirt, a red bandana kept his long greasy hair out of his face, and mirror lensed aviator shades covered his eyes. His motorcycle boots were new and so were his blue jeans.

Hatchett rolled his car off the road fifty yards behind the biker, noiselessly slipped out of his car, and disappeared into the woods. The biker was oblivious to anything but Lola’s beguiling smile. He revved his engine once then shut it down. As per the plan Lola walked in front of the bike as the rider looked her over.