Джанет Иванович - Fortune and Glory

I looked at Potts and he made a zipper motion across his mouth.

“It’s George Potts,” I said. “He’s riding with us. It’s a long story, not worth telling. Are we going to Stark Street?”

“I’m thinking we start at the train station. A couple of the girls hang out for the late commuters. They’re usually on Grimly Street.”

I crossed the railroad tracks, drove past the train station, and turned left onto Grimly. A plus-sized hooker wearing pink sweats and black patent leather platform stilettos was standing on the corner.

“Do you know her?” I asked Lula.

“No,” Lula said. “I never got in with the train station girls.”

I pulled over and lowered my window. Pink Sweatsuit walked over and looked in at Lula and me.

“I don’t usually do girls,” Sweatsuit said. “They take too long. I make exceptions if you want to pay by the hour or go electric.”

I waved a twenty at her. “I’m looking for a friend. Maybe you’ve seen him.” I replaced the twenty with Shine’s photo.

“Nope. Never seen him,” she said. “Not for a twenty anyways.” She looked into the backseat. “Is that Georgy Potts back there? Hey, Georgy, how’s it going?”

Potts looked at me and I pretended to unzip my lips.

“Hey, Leticia,” Potts said.

“All the girls been missing you, honey. Where you been? How’s your asthma?” Leticia turned her attention to me. “He has PTSD. I hope you’re taking good care of him.”

“The best,” I said. “He’s special.”

“You bet your ass he’s special,” Leticia said.

Potts leaned forward. “So, have you seen this guy? We’d really like to get in touch with him.”

“Sure, just for you, Sweetums. He’s got a thing for Patches. She’s good with the older folks. She usually hung on the corner here with Jody and me, but I haven’t seen her in a while. You might try Lizzy on Stark. Lizzy and Patches were tight.”

“Thanks,” Potts said. “You’re the best.”

“Don’t be a stranger,” Leticia said, taking my twenty, stuffing it into her pocket.

“That girl has no curbside manners,” Lula said when I drove away. “I would never have approached a prospective client like that.”

“She’s nice when you get to know her,” Potts said. “She has a cat named Kiki.”

Lula turned in her seat and looked at Potts. “Are you a regular or something?”

“No,” Potts said. “I mostly only have sex with myself. Before the bakery pooping incident, I had a job delivering pizza and the ladies were big pizza eaters. Sometimes I would run errands for them when they had an emergency or a special request… like chocolate syrup or a package of frozen hot dogs. That was a tough one because hot dogs aren’t usually frozen. And once Samantha forgot her paddle and I had to buy her a spatula at the grocery store.”

“That Samantha is a trip,” Lula said. “She’s been around for a long time. That’s on account of she’s a specialist. Specialists like her got a longer shelf life than an ordinary service provider.”

“Do you know Patches?” I asked Potts.

“No, but I know Lizzy. She used to work the train station.”

“Do you know Lizzy’s corner on Stark?”

“No,” he said. “I would never deliver on Stark Street. It’s too scary. I went there once, and I accidentally ran over a big rat. It was so big I thought it was a cat, so I got out to see if I could help. And while I was looking at the squished rat, someone stole my car.”

“Yeah, you gotta give it to the Stark Street boys,” Lula said. “They’re fast. Did you get your car back?”

“No. The police said it probably got taken apart right away.”

Lula added, “There’s good money to be made on auto body parts.”

I drove through town and turned onto Stark Street. The first two blocks of Stark are okay, with small businesses on the ground floor and apartments above them. After that it deteriorates.

“I’m not comfortable,” Potts said. “I’m feeling anxious. I might have a panic attack coming on.”

“Keep a watch out for Lizzy,” I said.

“I can’t see. My vision is blurry,” Potts said. “I’m pretty sure I’m having an ocular migraine.”

“Maybe we should take him to the hospital,” Lula said.

“What does Lizzy look like?” I asked Potts.

“She’s black. I think she said that she’s from Haiti. And she had dreads with beads in them.”

“There she is,” Lula said, pointing to three women clustered on a corner. “And I know the other two hookers.”

I pulled over and Lula stuck her head out the window. “Hey, ladies,” she said. “How’s business?”

They trotted over and Lula introduced us. “This is Lucy, and this is Sharon,” Lula said. “We shared a corner together just before I retired from the profession.”

“We heard you got hurt real bad,” Lucy said. “Are you okay?”

“I’m good,” Lula said. “I’m working in bail bonds now. We’re looking for a guy. Charlie Shine. Any of you know him?”

“Patches was spending time with him,” Lizzy said. “She talked about him a lot. I got the idea he was an older gentleman with a lot of money, but I never got to see him.”

“Do you know where we can find Patches?” I asked.

“Usually she’s across the street,” Lizzy said, “but she hasn’t been showing up.”

“It’s been a week since we’ve seen her,” Sharon said. “We’re a little worried.”

“Have you tried to get in touch with her?” I asked.

“She isn’t answering her cell phone, and Lizzy went to see her, but no one answered the door.”

Lizzy looked into the car. “Is that Georgy in the backseat? Hi, honey, are you doing okay?”

“I’m a little light-headed,” Potts said.

“No doubt from that PTSD you got,” Lizzy said.

“If you give us Patches’s address, we’ll look in on her,” I said.

“Sure,” Lizzy said. “She got a room on Parker Street. Second floor. You can’t miss the building. It’s got a big red peace sign painted on it still from the seventies.”

“I’ll let you know if we see her,” Lula said.

“Appreciate it, honey. You stay well.”

I drove away and Potts started humming.

“What’s he doing?” Lula asked.

“Humming,” I said. “He hums when he has anxiety. It keeps him calm.”

“It’s annoying,” Lula said. “He’s not humming a song or anything. He’s just freaking humming.”

“The alternative might be diarrhea,” I said.

“How about the alternative be we chuck him out of the car and let him call Uber.”

“I can hear you,” Potts said. “You’re making me more panicky. My heart is racing. I think I have tachycardia. I’ve got spots in front of my eyes and I might see an angel. There’s something floating in front of the car.”

Lula sat forward in her seat. “I don’t see anything.”

“It went away,” Potts said. “It was there for a minute. It might have been one of those escort angels that take you to heaven.”

“As long as it’s not coming for me ,” Lula said. “I’m not ready. I got a hair appointment tomorrow.”

Parker Street was two blocks away. The neighborhood wasn’t the best, but it also wasn’t Stark Street. It was mostly residential row houses that were two and three stories. Occasionally there would be a small bar on a corner or a small grocer in the middle of a block. There was the usual gang graffiti on the buildings, but the buildings weren’t pockmarked with bullet holes. I found the peace sign building and parked at the curb.

“Are we going in this building?” Potts asked.

“Yes,” I said. “Do you want to wait in the car?”

“By myself?”