X-Ray Vision Ch. 10: Partnership

"I should have seen that myself, if I hadn't been led around like a..." She stopped, her face screwed up, unwilling to show emotion.

Billie impulsively hugged her, got no response. Still too raw for that. Letting go awkwardly, she stood uncertainly.

"Felicity will...perhaps you can make your own way out? I find I will be without help for a time. If you know of any reliable companions who can do light housekeeping..." she stopped talking, unable to continue. Turned away, sat on her lounge chair, head in hands.

Greg spoke, not sure he was being heard, for her benefit and for Billie's.

"We will observe perfect discretion in this matter. You may rely on that."

Getting no answer, they retraced their way to the front door. Felicity was coming down the hall, saw them leaving without her, curious. Saw their sober expressions, got it in an instant; her face went blank.

On the street Greg saw that Billie was looking worn, tired.

"That may be enough for one day? I know I'm beat, all this walking." A white lie: he'd walked like this for years. Billie just nodded, started toward home.

For a time, they said nothing. Each to their own thoughts.

Out of the blue. "You must see a lot of things."

Greg knew what she meant: married men with condoms in their wallet; money hidden from partners; theft and shoplifting. Anger and disgust and hatred. Disease and abuse.

"Yup."

"How do you handle it?" Her voice plaintive, she found this development hard to digest. Needed some guidance, figuring where to put this in her head.

Greg considered a few responses, discarded them.

"I try to be the best person I can be, for my friends, for my community."

That made sense: Billie nodded, then nodded firmly. "I can do that."

...

There was one message on the machine when they got home. Billie listened to it, made notes, hit erase. Called back, made an appointment for Friday to meet on the beach.

Greg had made a snack, brought it out to the porch, waited for Billie to kick off her shoes, visit the bathroom, the fridge.

Pleased to see he'd scooted the loveseat across the deck, she flounced down on the other end, smiled. Fully recovered after the walk; the youth!

"This is more like it! Look at that view!" The rollers were quiet, between tides. The sky clear and brilliant. Like a picture in a travel magazine!

Greg ducked his head. "I've been a bachelor for too long! Got used to everything my way..." as apology for his inconsiderate layout.

Billie picked a piece of white spotty cheese off the tray in his lap, took a bite. Tongued the bite back out into her palm, dumped it on the tray, took a piece of cheddar instead.

Greg looked glumly at his plate; no more Roquefort! Got the message.

"That sound like an interesting one?" Referring to the answering machine.

Billie brightened. "Maybe! Another lost person. Some summer love, on the beach one day, gone the next!"

Greg frowned. "We're not careful, we'll become private investigators doing missing persons. That what we want?"

Billie shrugged. "Lost is lost. Can we afford to pass it up?"

That made sense. They'd had exactly three paying consultations so far. A beginning, but they'd have to pick up the pace to make a go of it.

"Where for lunch?" Cheese and crackers wouldn't hold a teen stomach for more than a few minutes. The morning was shot, Jillian wouldn't be home for hours, he didn't feel like making anything.

"You paying? I know a Chinese place! Not too far!"

"The big pagoda with the jade carvings on the wall?" Greg was enthusiastic. "I'm in!"

...

Friday

Billie

Thursday afternoon had been quiet; no more phone calls. People had to be home to call I guess, and it was a workday.

Jillian had been very interested in our successes. I'd told the stories, leaving out the personal bits, just highlighting the finds. The drama! The psychology! She'd laughed in all the right places, I'm a pretty good storyteller.

I'd weathered all the smooching, waiting it out, Jillian rewarding Greg for helping people, some kind of deal they have. The real reason Greg is in on our business! Horndog.

But then last night it had been hard to fall asleep, my pillow over my head - all the squeaking and thumping going on in their bedroom. Then the shower running, then more thumping, then the shower again. Jesus help me, I'm going to have to find my own place soon!

Today was another workday, we had an early appointment. Some real estate lady, had some showings to do later so wanted to meet first thing.

For once I beat Greg getting up! Was ready to go by the time he'd got up, waited for him to make some bagels, see Jillian off, get dressed.

Finally, he came out on the porch.

"Let's go! Ten minutes to get to the Cabana!" That was a resort bar on the beach I guess; she'd given an address, but I figured we'd just walk until we found her.

He was dressed like a beach bum, as usual. I figured it wouldn't matter, I had my Debbie Normal outfit on, would be the businesslike partner today.

He smiled, tolerating me. "Should make it in plenty of time!"

He was right, which was infuriating. The place was like the third one down the beach from our complex. Lady sitting on a deck chair under an umbrella, shades, skirt and blazer, heels, clearly a real estate agent by the outfit.

I did the talking. "Hi! Billie! You must be..."

"Angela." She stood, shook my hand. Ignored Greg which was fine. I didn't introduce him; I was still mad at him for being right.

"You understand we have an up-front fee, to get started. Then a second payment when we deliver?"

She had a check, handed it over. I gave that to Greg without looking at it. Let my flunky handle the paperwork!

We sat and I got all Velma, took out my notebook, clicked my pen, wrote the date and time on top of a page, wrote 'Angela'.

"Shall we start with the circumstances of your meeting? How long have you known this person? What personal details you can remember?"

She got dreamy-eyed, leaned back. Started in on her story.

"Wednesday night I was dancing at the Lance, you know the one? Went with two girlfriends but lost them right off - one saw her ex, hooked up with some rando to piss him off, disappeared into the VIP to do God knows what.

"The other girlfriend started in on Guy, the one I'm looking for? That's his name, Guy! Isn't that perfect!"

I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes; not good to diss the client right off. If his name was Guy, I'd eat my shoes.

"But he was into me, I could tell, he was fondling me with his eyes when he was dancing with her. Probably because she was wearing jeans and a band shirt, all grubby and stuff? I had on a sequined top, skorts but the skirt rolled up so you could see everything? Hot!

"So, after that number, the band was that one with the girl with wet panties? From banging the drummer? It was crowded, sweaty, they came up to the bar and he got between us, rubbed up on me...

"Val was getting catty, Val is my friend, Val saying we should get a room, we were being so obvious. So he says Sure why not? and we went out the side, the back door is always open, says Alarm Will Sound but it doesn't?

"So he's got me up against the dumpster, that skort is in my purse and he's giving me some sweet love, looking me right in the eyes, all romantic and intense? Holding my shoulders like I'm his personal piece and he's giving it all, lifting me up so I wrap my legs around his..."

She shivered, remembering his legs I guess.

"Where did you go after that?" I cut the porno scene short, get to the point.

She came back from her fantasy, tried to remember.

"We went to his hotel! I remember because we tried one room but somebody was banging in there so we went to another one and it was empty. So we made out for a while, he goes into the hall and comes back with a bottle, got it from the room service cart?

"We opened the bottle, drank, I told him about my job and the crazy things I have to put up with, the crazy people. He was laughing and pouring and I think we fucked again?

"Anyway, I woke up on the beach with the sun coming up, probably outside his hotel but I'm not sure. He was gone, just his flip-flops and a towel and his room key! I know he wants to see me again because he left his key!"

Greg was trying to follow but so far not much to go on.

"You have a description? Hair color? Height? Any special features?"

She concentrated, which was apparently hard for her because her face got red.

"I think brown? No! Black! All slicked back, shiny. He was taller than me, pretty tall!

"He kissed so nice! Very gentle at first but then some tongue and he'd do this thing where he licked my lips and then sucked my tongue..."

"I mean, like tattoos? Scars? Big nose?" Trying to keep her on track was like herding cats.

"His dick! So big! I mean, not so thick, ok, but so long it really..."

Not a lot of help, unless I went down the boardwalk pantsing guys. Change the subject.

"Do you have the towel? We could use that to find his hotel..."

"Nooooo... I left that on the beach. It was all sticky and gross.

"But I have his flip-flops!"

"And the room key, right?"

She dug in a beach bag, a big canvas thing with some designer logo, a knock-off they sell on the boardwalk. Pulled out a ginormous pair of flip-flops, sandy, faded, worn.

Took a while but she came up with the key - a standard real metal hotel key with a diamond-shaped keychain.

I took these things from her, told her we'd do some legwork, get back to her.

She looked cutely concerned. "I really have to find him again! We didn't use a condom, so who knows, I might even be carrying his baby!

"Here's my number, call when you find him! I'm busy all day, won't pick up but tonight I'll be home. Call before 10 because I head to the clubs then!"

I took her card, yup a real estate agent. And she was off, clip-clopping up the walk in some impractical heels and a long tight skirt, barely able to take a step.

Greg was dubious.

"Doesn't seem all that broken up about losing him. Out again tonight to find another guy?"

I nodded. She certainly moved fast, but it wasn't our place to tell her how to find her soul mate. Just to find this one again.

"It's the end of the season. He's a tourist? On the make, a one-night stand. He's probably already gone, on a plane back to Ohio, to the wife and kids. How much do we want to do on this one?"

Greg was being all negative.

"Oh, he's still here. He's on the strip right now. And he's missing his keys, and worried."

Greg was confused. "How? Tourists lose keys all the time, they just get another one. I can see, oh, half a dozen from where we're sitting!" He gestured at the expanse of sand.

"Not like these. Notice anything?"

He glanced at them. "Nope. Well, old-fashioned, real keys instead of a card. You think we can use that to figure out which hotel? There's nothing written on the keychain, so that's no help."

Greg was a smart guy, I knew that. But he could be dense. It was right there on the table; he saw it but didn't have the experience to really see it.

"This isn't a room key. All the hotels use the cards, but the staff use real keys, some of them. This is a staff key? They don't have a room number on the keychain, because they fit all the locks."

Understanding dawned. "And he's in trouble for losing it! The locks they'll have to change! Hundreds!"

I nodded. The Shady Stop, a motel by the highway in Idaho, I'd worked there one summer, cleaning rooms. Nobody stopped for more than an hour or two, but I'd had a key like this. Had been threatened if I lost it, I'd lose my job.

"So how do we do this? Ask around, find the manager, see which hotel has an employee that lost their key?"

Sweet, naïve Greg.

"He's not gonna say anything, not right away, not to management. He's hoping he'll find it before anybody notices it's gone! Save his job!"

"So dead end again?"

I admit, I heaved a sigh. Greg noticed, looked defensive so I backed off.

"We just talk to other staff members, not management. They'll all know he's looking for it. His friends will be recruited to help."

Greg considered. "Maybe you should do the talking."

Maybe, duh. But I just said "Sure! I can do that." Gotta be supportive to the partner.

So, we traipsed down the boardwalk, stopped at each hotel. I'd collar a kid setting out chairs, or a room cleaner with a cart, ask about our guy.

Third one, bingo. Guy in a uniform, pushing folded tables on a rolley thing, setting up some conference room for the Sidwell Siding meeting according to the sign board.

"Hi! I was bonking a guy who works here, Wednesday night, he left his flip-flops on the beach?"

The guy glanced at them, lit up. "Anton! Sure! Did you find his keys too?"

I showed them, he smiled. Clearly a friend of Anton.

"I can give them back to him!"

Nuh uh. "I want to give them myself? Don't want Anton in trouble. And I'd love to see him again..."

That did it; this guy knew Anton was a player, women threw themselves at him, so he was familiar with that.

"He's a busboy in the dining club but they're not open now. Does room maintenance, but not usually, not unless something breaks. Probably on the volleyball court, giving lessons? He finds a lot of girlfriends that way..." The guy figured he'd said too much, shut up.

I smiled so he knew no hard feelings, and we went looking for the volleyball court.

Saw him before he saw us, he was obvious. Tall, dark like she'd said. And those legs! All muscles, in his short shorts he looked like a draft horse.

Handsome, pleasant, doing his coaching thing, being all supportive and showing some ladies a good time. He'd position their arms from behind, show them how to serve and they were eating it up, snuggling into his chest and all smiles.

Greg did his thing, and I gave him a What's Up? look.

"No keys. Those shoes don't fit, borrowed. Could be our guy. And, vasectomy. He's not gonna get anybody pregnant."

So that was good, I guess. Didn't know if that would go in the report or not. But Greg sure had his uses!

I approached with the flip-flops in hand, called out "Hey sweetie!", got noticed by one of the ladies.

"This one of yours Anton? A little young for you?" All catty and looking down her nose.

I smiled prettily, beckoned Anton, showed the keys in my pocket.

He disengaged, hurried over.

"Who are you? I never saw you before! I don't date underage girls! How did you get my stuff?" He was protesting loudly, letting the ladies hear, pretty concerned, so I put him out of his misery.

"I just did that to get your attention. I'm here on behalf of a lady, Angela. Met Wednesday night at the club? Spent the night with her? Left her on the beach?"

I handed over the keys, the flip-flops. He was visibly relieved, more willing to talk.

"Sure! I remember her! She had great legs! Had this move, when she..." he cut himself short, stammered. "I mean, sure I remember!"

"Would you like to see her again? Because she very much would like to see you again." I handed over the card.

He looked at the picture, smiled, did the fantasy-remembering-zone-out thing for a bit. "Yeah! That'd be great!"

"She's a local, a real estate agent. Maybe looking for a regular boyfriend." I thought I would give him a heads-up, not set him up for an embarrassing conversation.

He read the card, slowly. Got a bright idea.

"I need a new apartment! My roommate is getting too clingy. Time for a change!"

I nodded. "She's your gal! Just your speed, maybe get you a deal on a place. Anyway, I'll leave you to it, I know you're busy."

The ladies were getting restless, eyeing me unkindly. Anton shook my hand, went back to his lessons. Soon the ladies were back at it, laughing and pretending to learn volleyball.

Greg was standing just under the side door awning, watching.

"That was amazing! No real description, no name, just a blank key and some flip-flops. From nearly nothing, you pulled out a win!" He shook his head, impressed.

I pretended to polish my nails on my shoulder, looked at them saucily.

"Maybe I don't need you, boss." Grinned when he looked alarmed.

"Yeah, ok. That makes sense."

"Kidding! We're a great team!"

He nodded. "We are. Remember, we said we'd reconsider our arrangement? After we evaluated your skills.

"Billie, it's time to recognize those skills. We are now full partners. Owners, even steven, everything split down the middle."

That was cool. So cool I blubbered a bit, hugged Greg until I could stop. Not very partner-like, but hey! A business owner is allowed to get emotional. Greg understands that.

...

"How are we gonna get paid? You gave away Angela's card."

Greg asking, while I made some of my Genmaicha. Set the pot on the bar, started looking in drawers.

"What do you need?" Greg was being patient.

Duh. "Phone directory!"

He pointed at the drawer the other side of the stove. I pulled it out, flipped to the ads, the Real Estate section. Pointed.

"Oh." She was there, top of the page, her picture and everything.

I dialed, left a message, her soulmate Guy/Anton was a local, name of hotel, he should call, our final payment due, where to send it.

That done we repaired to the porch. Always better out here, the cool morning air, the sun and sea. I can see why people like to live here!

He was getting interested in my tea, sniffing, looking at the cups.

I poured, handed him one. Waited for it.

There - the 'wow this is different and maybe I like it' look.

"It's like..."

I nodded. It's like something, I don't know either.

"Maybe I am a tea guy."

That was quite an admission, from a devoted coffee drinker. I understood the emotional capital it cost him to say that.

"I never got why you had to choose!"

Except I was never gonna drink coffee. Nasty bitter foul stuff. Makes your breath stink.

"I saw another bag..."

Of course, he did.

"Assam Golden Tip! I know! Fancy! Strong, watch out if you try that one."

We sipped and appreciated the view for a bit.

"What's on for this afternoon?"

The morning was hardly half gone, and we had no more cases.

"I'm gonna canvass this complex! Don't know why I didn't think of that. Got some cards left. Then maybe order some more cards, fifty didn't last long."

"It does seem like they are working."

"What about you?" I had no idea what Greg's life entailed.

"Errands. Bank run, deposit some of that found money. Get some groceries, taking Jillian on a drive tomorrow, for a picnic. Pick up a shirt from Khang, taking Jill out Sunday night!

"Reminds me, we're on our own for supper Saturday. Jillian will be at Khang's, Sisters' Night!"

"What's that?" I had visions of playing dress-up or painting nails.

"Oh, they go to a show, watch bad reality TV at Khang's, steal Phuong's sticky rice wine, drink too much, tell all their secrets. Make plans they don't tell anybody! She comes home Sunday morning, in a cab, hung over."

Sounded about right. Didn't have a sister but knew plenty. Even though we didn't drink in the Church, they all found ways to get something. You could tell in Sunday service who's head was pounding, by the way they squinched their eyes during hymns.

"We gonna cook? Order in? Go out?" I was presuming Greg wanted to pal around.

"Order in! Mexican? I know a place...how are you with hot food?"

"Pretty good. We had one real Mexican restaurant, for the loggers, Mrs. Romero and her brother. Didn't go there a lot growing up but when we did, I liked to eat everybody's peppers off their plate, ever since I was a baby!"

Greg looked so pleased at that! Somebody to share his love of hot food! I hoped I would measure up. Romeros' was only Jalapenos, who knew what shit he would spring on me.

"Should we invite Nick over? She's on her own a lot, now that Kelly and Tito are a thing."