“I’ll be your snitch if you be my bitch,” Monk said once he got me to a table away from everyone else.
“You have to be out of your mind,” I said. “First of all I don’t know you, and second it’s against every rule and standard of conduct. So no way.”
“Well at least think about it and I’ll give you something as a show of good faith. You want to know if Gypsy was selling her ass, well she wasn’t.” Monk said.
“I still think she was. You might not have known it, but I am pretty sure she was,” I said.
“What makes you think so?” he asked.
“When Simpson and I informed her that if we reported what happened on the road, it would look bad. Her response was to offer us sex in exchange for our silence. A little house wife mommy doesn’t have that as her first thought.” I informed him.
“Okay, as I understand it selling it requires that you negotiate a price up front. At least in all the cop movies they get it settled before they go to the room. That was never the case with Gypsy. To the best of my knowledge she had sex with a few friends. Then explained how badly she needed money. In my case she never even asked me. I just left her the price of a trip to the grocery store. Whatever I could spare at the moment really,” he explained.
“So she wasn’t selling it on the street, but if she met someone in a lounge that she knew, she would screw them and then beg them for money after,” I said. Monk nodded. “What if they said no?”
“I guess she didn’t do it with them again,” he said.
“I think that is still prostitution, morally if not legally,” I said.
“Probably,” he replied.
I finished my beer and stood to leave. “Thanks,” I said.
“For a blow job I’ll give you a meth lab. You don’t have to worry, I sure as hell would never tell anyone I was a snitch. I wouldn’t have to worry about you giving me up as your snitch either. That’s why it’s the coin of the realm. Mutual destruction. Think about it.”
I went back to my room and then to the computer. I looked up lots of things on it just to avoid thinking about The Monk. I was pretty sure he didn’t get that nickname because he was celibate. Then again he had paid Gypsy. He was also trying to make a deal with me. Maybe the Monk was celibate in his own way. Maybe he had attachment problems. I knew I had them, but I wasn’t sure I was ready for birds of a feather and all that.
I crawled under the blankets and imagined sex with Monk as I gently rubbed my clit until I came in shallow waves. Orgasms alone were nothing like those I experienced when I was wallowing in sick, disgusting sexual perversion.
I woke at 7AM even though I didn’t have to work that day. It was just a matter of habit. I had to force myself to run any day, so the only way I could do that was to make it a life long habit. Wake before eight and finish my forced activities by nine. Forced activities were running and the shower and dressing for the day. If it weren’t for the self discipline I learned in the Military, I would just stay in bed all day. Trust me I am not exaggerating at all.
I ran inside the Cafe on the Square at 7:45. I looked bad and probably smelled bad as well. I ordered a bacon egg and cheese biscuit since I was breaking my fast for next two days then returning to it. I got it to go since I made better coffee and I was trying to economize a little. Besides there was no one in the place I really knew after 6AM. All my buddies were gone by the time the sun came up. The cafe opened at 5AM and the first breakfast shift was gone by 6AM. People came and went from then till 5PM when the cafe closed.
“You ain’t been reporting any strays lately,” the black waitress suggested as she handed me my white bag.
“I know people must be keeping their dogs inside due to the cold,” I suggested.
“I sho’ do hope so, It be mighty cold for them poor things out there all alone,” she said. “I feed a couple of stray cats out the back door here. Boss claims he don’t like it, but I think he feeds them when I’m off.”
“Good for you both, I got to run see you tomorrow,” I said.
“Good Lord willin’” she said, ending the conversation.
After breakfast I decided that it was time for me to do more than just watch TV on my day off. I wanted something I could do just in case the deputy thing went south. I wasn’t expecting it to do so, but one never knows, I thought.
My “Thing,” couldn’t be a job since I never knew what my schedule was going to be. It wasn’t just me all rookie cops got called when something needed doing and nobody else wanted to do it. If it wasn’t going to be a job, then it probably meant buying and selling things. Since I knew nothing about that at all, I decided maybe it wasn’t the thing to do either.
I was on the computer or the phone talking to people all day it seemed. I had no more idea what I wanted to do at the end of the day, than I did after my run. I finally gave up for the day around 7PM.
Since I had skipped lunch, I went for the meatloaf frozen dinner. It really wasn’t as bad as I had expected. I put the meat, whatever it really was, onto a fancy roll I picked up in the day old bread section of the grocery store, It really wasn’t bad with a little hot sauce and topped with mash potatoes and gravy. I know mashed potatoes on a sandwich sounds pretty gross, but it is good.
I sat a couple of more hours staring at the computer trying to get some ideas. Most of the subcontract work would require me to be available at a moments notice, which was impossible. I knew there was something, I just had to give it some time.
I did my walk through the lounge. I sat at the bar with Sarah and had a cup of her terrible coffee. I looked over at Monk with what looked like a biker buddy. I ignored him since I was pretty sure everyone in the place knew I was a deputy. Monk could get away with the one talk, but anymore and he would look like a snitch. Not a good thing for a guy playing with bikers.
After I finished the coffee I headed back to my room. I spent a little more time doing research before the room phone rang. “It’s me Monk. How about we have a beer?”
“You sure as hell don’t want your friends to think you are talking to me. I don’t want mine to think I’m socializing with a biker dude,” I said.
“All that is true, but you didn’t say no,” he said with a laugh.
“I guess I didn’t, but it’s just coffee, not a beer,” I said.
“Okay, I can’t come to your place and we don’t want to be seen together, so how about the plaza. We can meet at the road runner truck stop by accident.”
“Okay, but this only going to work for this one meeting, you do know that,” I said.
“If we get along, we will find something else next time,” Monk replied.
“Not likely to be a next time but okay,” I suggested.
“Just bring your ass down to the road runner and try to look like a dude, just in case anyone sees you and me together.” he said.
“That is the strangest thing I ever heard. I have been told I look so much like a man, I must be a bull dyke, Here you are telling me to look more like a man. You are just plain weird,” I said.
Instead of jeans I wore some camo pants that were pretty baggy on me. I also wore a gray sweatshirt with a hood instead of my field jacket. I put the knit cap on, then flipped the gray hood up over my head and decided that, since I didn’t have a fake beard, what he saw was what he got.
I parked across the lot from his Harley Chopper. It was truly a bike worthy of being a sign for his shop. It was just beautiful. When I walked through the door he was seated by the window with two coffee cups in front of him.
“Gunfighter seat,” I said.
“Yeah, I want to know if one of the boys rides up. We don’t come here much, but it would be my luck some asshole biker would pull in,” he suggested.
“Yeah or some fucking deputy,” I said with a laugh. I wasn’t really surprised by his laugh.
“Yeah that to,” he said it with a wicked smile.
“Shit this coffee is terrible,” I said.
“Fuck Syl, the truckers love it. One cup of that shit and you can’t sleep for at least five hours,” he said. “You ever been here?”
“I bought gas but never been inside the place before. It isn’t too much of a dump. Not exactly a place the locals would come for dinner though,” I suggested.
“Specially on a date,” he said.
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“How about we go to my place and I hide your car inside. I can give you that meth lab,” he said.
“But I’m not ready to give you the blowjob,” I said.
“Since you are here you are coming around. I can wait,” he suggested.
“They tell me I’m worth waiting for,” I said. We made a lot of small talk. I told him how I had spent my day.
“Think specialty manufacturing,” he said. “Something you can make one or two at a time and sell when you can. Having a full time job will allow you time to build a reputation and clientèle. Hell you can sell on Ebay or Amazon and never have to do anything else to set up retail outlets.”
“Now I’m shocked how the fuck do you know so much about manufacturing,” I asked.
“What did you think I did in my shop. I make one custom after market part for automobiles, I sell it directly to the customers and cut out the parts store,” he said. “The shop itself is just cover. Now and then I work on a car for a friend.”
“That doesn’t explain how you know so much,” I demanded.
“My ex wife was something of a web addict. When I got the prototype made, I wasn’t sure what to do with it. She researched it all and then set it up for me. She taught me enough to keep it going without her once she moved on. I think it was her way of avoiding alimony,” he said with a laugh.
“Okay what do you make?” I asked.
“I make a low energy lighting kit for under the hood and inside the trunk of cars. Night or day when you open your trunk it is as bright as daylight. Under the hood is the same way. Best of all you can install it yourself in fifteen minutes.
“Shit you should be a millionaire,” I suggested.
“Not hardly, but I did pay cash for my Harley,” he said.
“Do your biker buddies know you have big money?” I asked.
“Hell no and don’t you tell them. I like the outlaw lifestyle, I always have.” he said
“Okay, I promise.”