Little Ricky Brewer wanted to know what I was up to. If Hoodie was smart, and I had already established he was about as sharp as a ball of play-dough, he would confess to his cover getting blown and asked to be re-assigned.
I had called Lloyd to let him know that an operative was keeping tabs on him. He knew and was currently messing with him.
Lloyd had spotted his tail, earlier. Once he knew he had hooked the guy, he took a nice, slow, leisurely stroll to the nearest Gentleman's Club. Foxy' on O street had been recently remodeled, but Lloyd knew about it's one great feature. Lloyd sauntered in, grabbed a seat at the bar where he could see the entrance. He ordered a drink, Bud Light in a can, I think he said, and struck up a conversation with the lucite-shod dancer who took a moment from strutting on the bar to squat in front of him so she could hear better. 'Sweet Dreams', by the Eurythmics shook the newly installed fixtures.
"So, what's your name?" Lloyd asked, trying to smile, affecting a look that fit right in for a place dedicated to illusion and disillusion.
"Victoria," the dancer said, between chomps of her gum.
"Listen, Victoria." Lloyd oozed. "I'm doing a little project where I'm paying it forward, you know, doing a nice, unexpected thing for a stranger."
"Uh-huh. That's cool," Victoria said blandly, as she performed a few run-of-the-mill thigh exercises. "I don't have to do anything weird, do I."
Lloyd sighed. "No. See this twenty. I am going to put it under my beer can. When I pick it up, I want you to go over to whoever came in last and give them twenty dollars of individual attention. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?"
"And I get the money?"
"You can tuck it right into your cute, little g-string, just as soon as I lift the can."
Victoria tossed her hair a couple of times. "OK. I can do that."
Lloyd tried to follow the action of a chat show on the screens that showed Playboy channel, presumably to get guys, 'in the mood'. Victoria circulated the nearly empty bar, taking a dollar from an old codger by squeezing it between her boobs.
The tail finally walked in, before his eyes completely adjusted, Lloyd took a swig of his golden swill. Luckily, Victoria noticed, sidled over, snagged her Andy Jackson, and cruised over to the new arrival.
Lloyd scanned the guy through the darkness. Older guy, late50s, early 60's, greying hair, well groomed, clean shaven, decent attire, suit and tie, off the rack, department store variety. Enough room for a gat in a shoulder rig, but not today.
'Jessie's Girl' became the soundtrack for the unfolding scene.
Lloyd made sure that Victoria engaged the tail. She sidled up to him, put her hand on his shoulder and pressed up against him as he sat at one of the tables. She pushed her boobs in his face and turned her back toward him, and shook her ass in his face.
'Girls Just Wanna Have Fun' came on as Victoria sat on the tail's lap, and ground her hips. With him pinned, Lloyd made his move. As Victoria went to town, straddling the guy's legs and leaning in close, almost kissing distance, Loyd headed for the back exit.
Foxy's has a back area for smoking that opens onto an alley. There is a large, not exactly in-shape guy in an orange T-shirt that 'reads Security' stationed by the door to check ID's of those attempting to avail themselves of the more discrete gateway to worn-down Nirvana. Muscle hidden under rolls of muscle is still muscle, and Lloyd decided to sub-let that muscle.
"Hey, Buddy," Lloyd called out. "There's a guy getting pretty handsy with Victoria. And you know her, she won't narc on the guy."
"Where are they" he asked, slowing raising himself to his 6-4 height.
"Up front. Sitting at a table. There's nobody else, here, you cant miss them," Lloyd explained.
As 'Security' trudged off, Lloyd slipped out the back door. Cut down the alley and ducked inside the big liquor store, next door. From there he pretended to peruse the bottles of spirits that stood like willing infantry, ready to sacrifice themselves for a good cause.
Not long after, the tail went by, looking left and right, hoping to pick up Lloyd's trail. He had one hand holding his nose as blood dripped through his fingers and his other hand held a phone to his ear.
That was his story when he told me about it, later. We needed to decide if we should lie low or mess with these guys, The Rickster obviously hadn't invested in the best, but it is awfully difficult to tail yourself.
We decided on a campaign of misdirection and good, old-fashioned bore them into submission. I was betting that Ricky-boy didn't have the patience to get a weekly report of bupkus. Lloyd and I could play it cool.
I still needed to find out what Betty knew. I called her and told her to bring a friend, preferably one that looked a lot like her.
She told me that she hoped I didn't have anything weird, planned. I told her, not this time, but if she played her cards right...
I sat back and waited. The desk bottle was volunteering for a suicide mission. I left the lights off as the shadows lengthened in the office. The blinds made patterns that looked like yard-lines on the floor. I was trying to wrap my head around Rebecca's information, and the lack of progress that running countermeasures had forced on me. I wasn't quite sure if we had peeled into another layer of the onion, or if the onion was just fighting back.
Betty and her friend, Jessica, showed up. Betty was wearing a red Husker sweatshirt, jeans and a Huskers ball-cap with her hair pulled into a pony tail, threaded through the back of the hat. Jessica had a blue Royals t-shirt, Royals hat and jeans; she was really representing. I couldn't have arranged a better wardrobe for what I had planned.
"Betty," I said. "after you let me know what you've found out, you and Jessica, here, get to run the old switcheroo play."
"Sounds fun," Betty said. Jessica looked less enthusiastic.
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