Side Story: Don’t Say Shit You Don’t Mean
Lula’s POV
Ain’t this a bitch.
I love Tank, but the hardest thing to accept about him is the fact that he don’t talk. Even now, he’s sitting in my living room and he ain’t said but 10 words to me so far.
We just sitting here, looking at each other like two bumps on an idiot log, waiting for the other to talk. No, that ain’t right. He waiting for me to talk; I can’t out quiet him.
“So lemme make sure I got this straight. You moving to Texas?”
Nod. That passes as a full sentence for him.
“You leaving in the morning?”
Nod.
“It’s just you and Lester and Bobby, right?”
Nod.
I know my man. For any other woman this might sound like some gay shit but they tight. Tighter than tight. Tighter than tighty-whiteys on Tank’s hiney the one time I ever seen him wear some undies.
“And you gon’ be gone for a whole year?”
Nod.
“You coming back?”
Shrug.
I’m determined not to cry. I already did that at that damn expensive restaurant he took us to tonight. Boar? I snort. It’s just fancy pig. Call it pig, Mr. Chef Man.
I love Tank. Love him with everything I got in me, and that’s a lot. I ain’t no small woman and he ain’t no small man. It’s a lot of love between us, but I don’t understand how I’m supposed to take this right now. He’s leaving. A man this good I expect to leave. I don’t expect to keep him. I just try to enjoy him for as long as I can. Cause he gon’ leave. They always have. They always do.
I wonder if we can just skip this and get to the goodbye fucking. If he’s gon’ dump my ass then I want my last fuck. I wanna ride the ride one more time cause ain’t no man I ever been with (and it’s a lot of them fuckers) ever been as big, as skilled, and as willing to please. That’s a lotta chocolate thunder and I want mine.
Let’s just get this shit over with.
I strip, right there, in the middle of my living room. The entire time, Tank’s eyes got bigger and bigger and by the time Vickie’s panties were sailing off to god knows where, I could see I’d awoken the beast. Yes. Sgt. Mandingo is awake and ready to report for duty. Come on soldier. Time for you to put in work.
The bed is about the only place I can get Tank to talk. And boy will he talk. The shit that comes out his mouth is dirty, filthy, some of it is nastier than the shit I heard as a ‘ho and it gets me hot. And he’s on it tonight. He’s fucking me like it’s the end times and we gon go out in a blaze. We’ve been at it for 4 hours and he still ain’t out of energy. I am. Shit. I’m not making my living on my back no more and even when I did, Tank woulda wore me out.
I think he finally gets the point when I can only moan through the last orgasm. My throat is raw. My eyes are blurred with tears (where did them muthafuckas come from?), and my cooch is putting in for backup. We tired. He did his duty. He can stop now. He finally rolls off me and heads to the kitchen. He returns with a glass of ice water and some Tylenol. I take the pills, drink the water and look at him, sitting on the edge of my bed.
Good Lord Almighty, this man is mighty fine butt naked. Nothing but smooth black skin and muscles. He’s a work of expensive art. Like one of them sculptures I saw, the thinker or something.
“Lula, you been acting funny with me lately. I can’t tell what the hell we are. I don’t know if we’re together, if we’re not, are we’re just fucking or if it’s more serious.”
I’m so caught off guard by the fact that there’s more than one word that I nearly miss what he said. Really? You can’t tell? I just let you destroy my cooch in four hours and you can’t tell if I’m serious? Fuck you. But I know not to say anything. In bed, in a bedroom is the only place Tank will catch some verbal diarrhea. Best to let him get it all out before I say anything.
“I’ve been clear. I don’t really expect to get married but I do love you. That engagement stunt you pulled threw me, made me nervous. I don’t know if I wanna go there again.”
OK, I do regret that but hell, I was trying to keep you. One and only time I try some shit like that and it turns out yo’ ass got cats. Cats. I can feel the hives well up. Make sure you take them with you to Texas.
“I’m not a man for leaving messages and begging you to call me back but I did. I left the messages. I kept an eye on my phone. I know you’re in and out and I never try to fuck with yo flow so I was trying to be considerate of you.”
And you and I both know I ain’t used to that shit. Even after all this time, I’m still stunned when you open doors for me. When you treat me like I’m somebody with class and not a cheap ‘ho.
“Telling you tonight, at the restaurant, that’s not the way I wanted that shit to go down.”
I’m glad Mary Lou is Steph’s girl. Otherwise I might be tempted to kick her ass for being right. Damn. I’m out of water, so I move to go get some more. Tank takes the glass from me and returns with it full. See? Little shit like that. Knowing what I need and getting it without me having to say anything. I ain’t used to that. It takes time to get used to that.
“Me, I’m serious. I’m serious about you, Tallulah. ” He grins at my obvious irritation. I hate my name. “I love you. I want this to be serious between us. I know I’ve been fucking up lately, with my short temper, and if that scared you, I’m sorry. I had a lotta shit on my mind.”
I blink. My nose starts running. An apology. Been a long long time since any man apologized for losing his temper. Usually I get those words after being backhanded.
Tank hands me some tissues. “This move to Texas, I’m not sure if it’s gonna be permanent for me. You know I’m from Louisiana and that’s home to me. The South. I’m sick of snow. I only stayed for Ranger.”
I’m not sure how I want to take this sentence.
“Getting this branch up and running, that’s gonna take some time. Like the 14-16 hour days I’ve been working here. So don’t expect to hear from me anytime soon. But once things get settled, I wanna bring you out to see me. No bullshit, Lula Bear.” He slides back into the bed, pulls me under him and grins. “Once things settle, I’m going to call. I’m going to want to bring you out to see it, see Texas, see Louisiana. I want to see you again. So when I call, be ready. I’m going to put you on a plane and bring you out to see where I’m from. If you still want me, get on the plane.”
It’s taking everything I got not to be mad at him right now. That’s bullshit. I heard that before. ‘Oh Lula baby, I love you. I want you to come with me, come to Jersey with me. Let’s get married and move away from this place.’ You know what I got outta that? A druggie boyfriend who turned into my pimp. And before I followed his ass to Jersey he wasn’t a druggie. He wasn’t a pimp. He was a man, a good man, just like Tank, who ended up pimpin’ my ass. He told me he loved me and the next thing I know I’m flat on my back to support his habit. No. No way. I ain’t moving for another man. I did that once and it took a homicidal boxer with a nasty, mean streak to get me out of that life.
I don’t think Tank’s noticed I ain’t said nothing yet. He’s sucking my nipple and sliding his fingers . . . oh God yes. My cooch is a bitch. Two glasses of water and some Tylenol and that heffa is eager to roll over for this man again.
And, since this is a good-bye fuck, he can have it. I ain’t trusting yo promises. Don’t say shit that you don’t mean. You ain’t promising me nothing I ain’t heard before. I’m not trusting it.
Good-bye Tank.
Connie’s POV
The man in front of me is handsome. 6ft. Brown hair. Brown eyes. No, brown with some green. He has an easy smile and straight, beautiful teeth. He’s also the eighth candidate for Steph’s job this week.
This isn’t like the last time we tried to find a bounty hunter. This time, these people are serious. This shit economy means that people will try anything, so we aren’t getting total losers this time. We’re getting guys (and gals) who I would normally love to have, if not for Steph.
I was trying my best to hold on to her job, but Vinnie was a man possessed. The little weasel was determined to get someone hired into Steph’s job, the quicker, the better and he wasn’t letting anything stop him. Worse, he seemed to know something I didn’t. It was almost as if he didn’t expect Steph to come back.
Turns out, the weasel did know something. He knew she wasn’t coming back well before I did. I wonder who blabbed. Not Steph; no way she woulda told him and not me. Her parents? Possibly. That’s the only way I can see Vinnie finding out something before me.
I’d heard the rumors. That she got shot and broke her leg. If she got shot then I knew she could shake that off. She always does. But when she confirmed she had a broken leg, I couldn’t help her for all the wishes in the world. I know about broken legs. I gave my ex-husband, Tony Farnese, a broken leg when I realized he cleaned out our bank accounts, right before we went to divorce. He was hobbling for months, and I told him to be grateful. Uncle Jimmy wasn’t happy about my divorce and was looking to settle a score.
Once Tony’s leg healed, Uncle Jimmy broke the other.
I know she’s at Haywood now, running RangeMan. She made a mistake last night. She said she was running the office then she said Hal was. So I’m thinking Ranger is in the wind, Tank, Bobby, and Lester are going to Texas, and Steph’s running the whole company. If I’m right, congratulations girl! I hope to God she and Ranger have got it straight between them. If not . . . you know what? I don’t even want to think about that.
“Miss?”
Oh how cute. He’s going for the soft-spoken, respectful routine. I want to tell him I’m not new at this game, I’ve been there, done that. I’ve been bribed for info on Steph, Steph’s job, and Steph’s stats for years. I’m old news at this. $50 says he asks me out on a date before he walks out the door.
“Yes, can I help you?” I smile back, the smile of the eager, the willing, the anxious to please. If he falls for it then he’s dumber than I think.
“My name is David, David Pickens. I’m here to see a Vincent Plum?”
Oh shit. This is worse than I thought. This guy, David, is actually the kind of guy I would jump to hire. Former cop, retired. Good commendations. In excellent health. Willing to work for slave wages. Vinnie will hire him in a heartbeat.
I don’t even have to say anything. Before I can turn toward Vinnie’s office, the little slime ball is out here, smiling for all he’s worth.
“David! Great to meet you. I’m Vinnie Plum. Come into my office and let’s talk. Connie, you offer the man anything to drink?”
I’m glaring at Vinnie. No, you know damn well I didn’t. You have the damn office bugged, remember?
David smiles at me. “No need, Connie. I’m not thirsty, but thank you.”
I didn’t offer you anything, David, remember?
He and Vinnie disappear into Vinnie’s office and shut the door. 15 minutes later they return, smiling.
“Connie, David here is going to be our new BEA. We need to go ahead and get him set up. Authorizations, everything he needs. I want to review the folder before close of business today.”
Translation: Don’t stall. I’m watching and I want him ready to work.
I start handing David all the forms he needs to fill out (wondering if I’ll have time to shred them and pin it on Vinnie before the office closes) when Barnyard-I mean, Joyce Barnhardt- walks in, clad in black leather. I hate this bitch. Serial mistress but she has the ability to be the bride when she wants to be. A lotta men have paid for a lotta work on that body. Mine’s all natural, which is why I don’t give her much thought.
Poor Steph. She doesn’t have much of a chest to call her own and she should be grateful. Her B-cups mean that she doesn’t have problems finding clothes like I do.
Joyce strolls over towards me, and David looks up to see who’s entered. They do a full body scan of each other before David returns to his paperwork and Joyce turns to me. I don’t have shit to say to her so I nod her towards Vinnie’s office. Don’t talk to me. I hate you. Sure enough, the sounds of quacking and mooing leak from Vinnie’s office. I see David look at the door in astonishment.
“Welcome to Vincent Plum Bail Bonds. You’ll learn to ignore that noise.”
He turns toward me, still looking confused. “Who is that?”
“Joyce Barnhardt, another BEA. Not anyone for you to worry about. She can’t catch a hint, let alone a skip.”
“What’s the noise?”
I smile. You’ll learn soon enough, David. Joyce is only good for one thing.
I can see the black SUV pull up outside and I make a quick decision. I write a note for Hal.
Hal,
Can you get me a full background on this guy? David Pickens, DOB 8-12-XX, SSN XXX-XX-XXXX. Vinnie’s hired him for Steph’s job and I want to know what I’m working with.
Connie
I still can’t believe Hal is now in charge of RangeMan Trenton. Vinnie’s gonna shit a brick when he finds out.
Hal walks in and I can see him scan David from the corner of his eye. I like Hal. He’s quiet but sincere, a good man. He’s just a bit too intense for me. All the RangeMen are. I clip the note to the top of the folders and smile.
“Congrats!”
He blinks. “Thanks. How did you . . . ?”
“Tank.”
I can see a tiny smile. I see him glance at the note and raise his eyebrow. I arch an eyebrow at him. He flicks his eyes, without moving a muscle, toward David, who is watching us closely. I smile.
“Done. You’ll get it ASAP.”
“Thanks Hal.” He leaves. I count the words. Nine. I think RangeMan requires 10 and under in all conversations. The sound of Tank’s voice at dinner last night was a shocker. I tried to think of the last time he talked around me and couldn’t. It may have been the first time I ever heard his voice, and the man should do voiceovers. Barry White has nothing on Tank.
Finally, David is finished with paperwork and approaches me. “Connie?”
“Yes?”
“Two things. One, can I get a copy of all that?”
SHIT! Now I’ll have to pass the file over to Vinnie. I nod.
“Thanks. Second thing, what’s the procedure?”
“Normally, when I get a skip, I’ll call you to let you know you have a folder to pick up. You come grab the folder and it’s on you to get him to the station. Get a body receipt, bring it back, and I’ll cut the check.”
“OK. What’s my range?”
“You have all skips under $50,000, and you get 10% of the bond.”
I can see him doing the math. At most, for one guy he’ll get $4999. Slave wages, David. Hell, if you do an hourly comparison, he and I make the same amount of money.
“Any chance of my getting higher priced skips? I mean, I am a cop.” He smiles charmingly.
So far, he’s been pleasant and polite, but I’m no fool. There’s just something about this guy. He’s too smooth.
“You see the guy who just walked out of here? In all black?” He nods. “RangeMan. They get everything $50,000 and over. You want the higher priced ones, you talk to them. And don’t ever ask me to slide you their files under the table. I won’t and neither will Vinnie. If you take their files, you’ll regret it.”
I can see that conversation will never happen and the warning has been understood.
“I thought your former BEA caught a cop for $10,000.”
“Special circumstance. They work with Trenton PD too, so they agreed not to touch it.”
All hope of a big payday like Steph’s first one is lost. Now to find out how much he’ll actually make a month.
“So, what the busy months and what’s the average?”
“Busy months are winter. No one wants to leave their nice warm house to appear in court. Best month will be January, for bonds written during the holidays. January you can clear about $5500, maybe more. Normal monthly average is $2500.”
And out of that you have to pay your own taxes and healthcare. You’re working for free. Congratulations, David. Welcome to Vincent Plum Bail Bonds.
The reality of his new job is settling in. This isn’t glamorous ‘Dog the Bounty Hunter’ work. This is hand-to-mouth living. Still, I can see he’s not giving up, and I already know what he’s going to try. Morty tried too and it didn’t work.
“So Connie, enough shop talk. What are you doing tomorrow night, say 8PM?”
I should write a book. Men are so predictable. Unlike Morty, he’s handsome and well-mannered, and I haven’t had a free night out on the town in a while. I’ll give him a date but that’s all he’ll get.
“Where do you want to meet?” I ask, coyly.
“I’ll pick you up. How about Mancini’s?”
Mancini’s is owned by my family and my Family. It’s not a great location because they’ll all drop by the table to try to meet him.
“Not fond of that place. How about Sorrenti’s? They have a great stuffed mushroom appetizer. And I’ll meet you there. I don’t ride with anyone on first dates.” I smile and he nods.
“Great! 8PM, Sorrenti’s. I’ll see you there.”
Joyce walks out as he turns to leave, and I see them scan each other one last time before he walks out and she turns to me.
“Vinnie said to give me two bonds. And hurry it up, I got somewhere to be.”
I knew the little rat would fold, so I hand her our two lowest bonds. $350 total. Take that, Barnyard.
I turn to do some filing (where the hell is Lula?) and when I look up I see David and Joyce shaking hands. I shrug.
He’ll learn.
8p.m. the next night I’m in Sorrenti’s foyer trying not to get pissed. I’ve called David twice and I don’t like the fact that he’s not answering. I realize that if he was running late and had tried to call me he wouldn’t have reached me because I didn’t give him my number, but at least I’m calling him.
Finally, at 8:05, he answers, sounding harassed.
“Connie? Oh god, Connie, I’m so sorry. I can’t make it, and I realized I didn’t have your number to call you and tell you. My ex-wife dropped the kids on me, and I didn’t know how you felt about kids and how you’d feel about me bringing them along. I just got the phone away from my three year old.”
I’d have been pissed, David. Good call on this one. I’ll let it slide.
“No problem, David. Look, let me give you my number.” I recite my number for him. “Sorry about the mix-up. I should have given you my number at the office. Look, I’ll let you get back to your kids. Goodnight.”
I wave at the maître d’ and leave. I’m still hungry, so I decide to drop by my apartment and change then drop in at Mancini’s. Free food and wine and my Uncle Jimmy reminding everyone to leave me alone about getting remarried. Yes. This sounds like a plan.
45 minutes later, I’m sitting in the ‘Chef’s Table’ area of the restaurant when I get an unpleasant shock. David and Barnyard have walked into the restaurant. I check my phone; no missed calls. I’m beyond furious. This asshole dumped me, using his kids (if he has any) as an excuse, to go out with this easy lay. I motion to Robbie, the porter.
“Can you get me a gallon of water? And mix some tomato sauce in.”
Robbie grins. “Who is he and do you need me to keep a watch?”
I nod. “The guy who just walked in with the woman in the short tight dress. At the maître d’ stand.”
Robbie looks and whistles. “Sure bet.”
Exactly, Robbie. Exactly.
Five minutes later I have the necessary tools and I’m headed out to the parking lot. Robbie was kind enough to also provide gloves and the bus boys have a watch on him. I’ll be warned in plenty of time.
I pop his gas tank (American Cars. Gotta love ’em. If this had been a foreign car I woulda been screwed) and take the rubber hose and feed it into the gallon of tomato water. I suck on it quickly to start the flow and when it’s all systems go, I quickly stick the other end in his gas tank. As soon as the level gets low, Robbie brings me another ‘special’ concoction and I continue my work. 5 gallons later, I’m done.
Retribution is sweet. It was the sludgy kind of tomato sauce, the kind that’s damn near impossible to get rid of.
I return to the kitchen and finish my meal. David and Barnyard are having a great time. I don’t need to see any more of this. I know how it will end. I don’t really care at this point.
David Pickens is now officially on my shit list. There will be no absolution for him either. He dumped me to go out with Barnyard. I should tell Vinnie; that’ll really make his life miserable.
Hal drops by the next morning with the file. I knew something was up. Divorced, three kids. Well, at least he didn’t lie about that. Problem is, they live in Maine. Asshole. The divorce could rival Steph’s for nastiness. Serial philanderer, caught red-handed, and got cleaned out. That explains his willingness to take this job and move to Trenton. He’s from Bordentown, about six miles from Trenton.
Mid-morning, I catch Vinnie heading into his office. I’m wondering how to start this conversation when I’m saved by his self-interest in his pencil dick.
“You give Joyce those files?”
“Yeah I did, some easy ones. That was a shitty move on your new employee, Vinnie, but it might turn out alright. She and David seem to be getting along.”
Score! Vinnie immediately turns around. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. I saw them shake hands outside the office yesterday and they went out to Mancini’s last night. I dropped in to see Uncle Jimmy.”
The seed has been planted and taken root. Vinnie knows Joyce is easy. Not even 24 hours after meeting him, Joyce has screwed his new employee.
David walks into the office, attempting to look contrite. Vinnie gives him a look that could peel paint and stalks off to his office, slamming the door.
David blinks, shocked. “What’s with him?”
I smile.
“Word of caution. Don’t fuck with the boss’s toys. You were here. You heard the noises. You should’ve guessed.”
David pales. He hadn’t guessed, and now he realizes he’s made a huge mistake. Not even 24 hours and he’s already screwed up.
I hand him his files and an authorization card to apprehend on behalf of Vincent Plum Bail Bonds. He thanks me, still pale, and walks to the door.
“David?” He stops, at the door. “Another word of caution.” He inclines his head, waiting.
“If you invite a lady out and later cancel on her, using your family as an excuse, don’t take your replacement to her family’s restaurant. Especially when her family is Family.”
