Tricky Twenty-Two(29)

“I’m in,” Connie said. “I don’t have anything going on tonight.”

“Sure,” I said. “Me too.”

“Almost forgot,” Connie said to me. “You got another package. Looks like it’s from Daniel Craig again. No return address. Handwriting looks the same.”

Oh boy.

I opened the envelope and pulled out a photograph of a totally ripped naked guy with a huge boner and Daniel Craig’s head. Clearly the head had been photoshopped on.

“Daniel Craig got a good one,” Lula said.

“It’s not Daniel Craig,” I said. “Someone put his head on someone else’s body. The skin tones don’t match.”

“Too bad for Daniel Craig,” Lula said. “He’d like to own that bad boy.”

Connie looked over my shoulder. “Is that a real penis? It’s massive.”

“I’ve seen them come that big,” Lula said. “Mostly when they get that big they’re kind of dumb. They haven’t got a lot of talent, if you know what I mean.”

I didn’t know what she meant, and I didn’t want to ask.

“There’s something written on the back,” Connie said.

I turned the picture over and read the inscription. “It says This is the real me.”

“I think the real me got delusions of grandeur,” Lula said.

“Do you want the picture?” I asked Lula. “There’s no bath caddy.”

“I’ll take it anyway,” Lula said. “Things have been slow in the romance department.”





ELEVEN


I HAD A peanut butter and olive sandwich for dinner and by eight o’clock I was starving. I’d showered away the beer that had splashed off Lula’s head onto mine. I’d put on clean jeans, a dressy tank top with a matching sweater, and flats, and I was ready for girls’ night out.

I met Lula and Connie at the office fifteen minutes later. Lula had hair the color of daffodils. It was all braided into cornrows, and she had a bunch of extensions that reached her shoulders. She’d squashed herself into a fire-engine-red bandage dress that was intended for a much smaller woman but seemed to work for Lula. She had matching lipstick, and she was wearing matching fancy Louboutin knockoffs.

Connie was still wearing work clothes. Tight black pencil skirt that came to an inch above her knees, tight white scoop-necked top that showed a lot of cleavage, chunky gold necklace, earrings, and cuff bracelet, and gold wedge heels. Connie was a couple years older than me and a lot more Italian. My hair was out of control by birth. Hers was by design.

We all piled into the Firebird and Lula drove us to M Street and Hawthorne. We rode around several blocks before parking, keeping our eyes open for Gobbles.

“I’m going with the girlfriend,” Connie said.

I had no opinion. I was thinking about Morelli. He was a really good cop. I couldn’t imagine him being anything else. Of course, until a couple days ago I also couldn’t have imagined him dumping me. Not that this was our first breakup. Morelli and I had a long history of breakups. None of the previous ones had been done naked. The naked thing was really irksome.

Lula parked, and we all sashayed into the bar and scoped it out. Two booths were filled. Four men were at the bar. No Gobbles.

We settled into a booth and ordered burgers and fries, onion rings, and a pitcher of beer.

“Do you ever think about getting a different job?” I asked Connie.

“Every day.”

“Not me,” Lula said. “I like my job.”

“That’s because you don’t have one,” Connie said. “You wander into the office when you feel like it. You drive Stephanie around. You make fried chicken and donut runs. And we pay you.”

“That’s true,” Lula said. “It’s real sweet. Best thing ever happened to me was when the office burned down, and we went from paper files to digital. I came in as a file clerk, but now there’s hardly anything to file. Fortunately I’m of other value. I have intimate knowledge of the worst parts of town and the most disgusting people, and I annoy Vinnie.”

We raised our beer glasses and made a toast to annoying Vinnie.

“You really get dressed up for a girls’ night out,” Connie said to Lula.

“You bet your ass. I take pride in my appearance.” She looked down and made a boob adjustment, hoisting the girls up a couple inches. “You never know when Mr. Good Enough is gonna come along. I like to be ready.”

Connie looked across the table at me. “Why did you ask about changing jobs? Are you thinking about changing jobs?”

“I know someone who’s making a big change, and it has me thinking.”