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On the way, Future pointed at my hand. “What’s that?” She squinted. “That’s fake.”
I looked down, noting the scarab beetle. “I…was thinking of a tattoo.”
“It looks good but don’t put it there,” she said. “Maybe on your ass like real girls do.”
“I don’t want a tramp stamp.”
“It’s not a tramp stamp,” she said. “It’s ass art.”
“You have one?”
“Not yet,” she said. “You can’t cover up perfection.”
I smothered a laugh.
“Are you shitting me?” Future asked as she pulled up on the street, and I pointed at the box van. “That’s so perfect. You just had one of these sitting around?”
“Family inheritance,” I said.
Marc laughed in my ear. I’d spotted the SUV following us. Marc let me know on the way that Axel was hanging back at the tiki bond place to listen in on Henry, and to follow him if he went anywhere.
“It’s a dream come true,” Future said. She jumped out of the Montego and then planted her hands on her hips. “Girl, you’ve got the good life.”
“So it’ll work?”
“Yeah, it’ll work.” She pointed to the van. “Do you know what you can do in a van like that?”
“Kill people,” Marc said. “Kidnap toddlers by luring them in with candy. Make a bomb and plant it downtown. Kinky sex. Lots of kinky sex.”
“Carry a lot of stuff in the back?” I asked.
“Carry a lot of fat asses back to the station,” Future said. “Where’s the keys?”
“Inside,” Marc said. “Under the seat.”
I walked up to the van, opening the driver’s side door. I snagged a set of keys from under the seat and pulled them out, showing them to her. “Where do we go?”
“Hang on,” she said. She went back to her car and opened the trunk. “First we need a wardrobe change.”
I strolled forward, hoping she wasn’t going to ask to use the house, since I didn’t have access.
Future pulled out a folded set of clothes from the trunk and started shuffling. She held out a red tartan kilt. “School girl,” she said. “We’ll make this real easy.”
“I’m starting to like Future,” Marc said. I could almost hear him grinning.
My hope had been that we’d just barrel in on someone with the guns she was toting in her car. “We have to wear skirts?” I asked.
“Darling,” she said. She turned to me, squinting her eyes, making her long lashes flicker. “Wait a second, what’s your name, anyway?”
“Bambi,” Marc said.
“Rachael.”
“Aw.”
Future shook her head. “Naw, you don’t look like a Rachael.”
“Because you’re a Bambi,” Marc said.
I smothered a grunt. “Can’t we just go in with the guns?”
“We want to avoid the guns,” she said. “They won’t accept them at the jail with gunshots. Guns are a last resort. This is going to be real simple. We’re going to put on the pretty, lure him out, and then trap him in the van. Easy peasy.”
I glanced over at Future, at the bulge in her shorts and now that I knew her for what she was, the more masculine features of her face. “Think we’re his type?”
“I’m the best sort of type,” she said. She turned her head, held her bubble butt out and created a thigh gap as she posed. She positioned the kilt in front of herself, hiding the last bit of masculinity she had. “I’m whatever he wants me to be.”
She did have a point.
She flicked the skirt at me. “Put this on.”
There wasn’t really anyone hanging around the neighborhood. I stood where the car was going to mask most of the nudity to the majority of the neighborhood, and slipped the skirt on over the shorts. I tugged the shorts off after.
Marc did a cat call whistle in my ear.
I started to dig out the ear piece.
“Don’t take your ear piece out.”
“One more comment,” I murmured.
“You look hot,” he said. “Want to go out after you’re done playing? Ask her if you can keep that skirt.”
I rolled my eyes and stepped out where Future had on a green tartan skirt. She’d replaced the leopard print with a white see-through T-shirt that was cut and twisted to frame her body, showing off the pink bra underneath.
I realized then her breasts had to be implants, but the work was done really well. With the skirt, she was a walking success story for whatever surgeon she’d used.
She tossed over a button up shirt, a loose fit. “Put that on,” she said. “Then tie it.”
I managed to put the shirt on, but tying it off was more than I could do. It ended up basically sagging off my shoulders and the tie looked like a lump.
“Rachael, honey,” she said. She grabbed me by the hem of the skirt, tugging me closer. She caught two ends of the shirt and did a weird twisty thing and then the shirt was tied off up close to my breasts. “How do you manage to get by in this world if you don’t know how to tie off a shirt? I should make you take the tank top off.”
“This white shirt is see-through. I’ll get arrested for public nudity.”
She winked at me. “You should show off boobs like that. Those fuckers can get you really far in this world if you know how to use them. You should show them off any chance you get.”
“Here, here,” Marc said.
“Can we get going?” This plan I’d concocted was getting less thrilling by the minute. Future was fine, but the skirt was itchy. I was wondering if I was showing off my underwear with how short it was. I kept wanting to reach behind me and tug it back down.
She picked out a pair of fuzzy pink handcuffs, a couple of cans of pepper spray, a Taser and a .38. She tucked them all into a handbag which she positioned it at her elbow. “Let’s roll.”
“Thought you said we didn’t need a gun.”
“I said let’s not shoot him,” she said, “If we can help it.”
She had me put on a pair of kitten heels, which were a little big but manageable. She pulled out a pair of knee-high boots, tucking them under her arm while she closed and locked the trunk.
I jingled the keys and headed toward the van.
“Wait,” Marc said. “You’re driving?”
I had a spot where I could have said something because Future was on the other side of the van, heading toward the passenger side. Instead, I held the keys above my head, jingling them again.
“Do you have a license? Wait, you don’t have a license. Can you even drive?”
I hopped into the driver’s side and turned the engine.
It did take some adjustments to get used to driving the van. For one, it felt like I was driving a monster truck with how high the seat was. The van really was a tank. The back was blocked off by a metal wall with a sliding window in the middle. The inside of the cargo area was empty, not even a bench seat.
I managed to figure out the brake sensitivity before we got out of the neighborhood. I stopped taking wider turns by the time we were almost to our destination.
Our toy gun armed robber was named Danny. Danny lived in a trailer park near the beach. It looked like the area was meant for a retirement village initially, and slowly wore down to accepting anyone willing to take the rusted-out homes.
“If I were a guy who skipped my court date,” I said as Future pointed out the directions. “I don’t think I’d stay home.”
“People are idiots,” she said. “He was probably only facing community service. He stole forty dollars. Now he’ll get a couple months in jail.”
“So he just sits at home waiting for a bounty hunter to come get him?”
“First off, we’re not bounty hunters, okay?” She finished lacing up the last of her boots. “We’re called runners down here.”
“Runners? That’s not what you call the guys who run off?”
“No,” she said. She twirled her finger in the air. “You’ve got to accept the lingo if you’re going to work. I didn’t make this shit up. We’re called runners. This skip is probably doped up. Most likely he didn’t even know his court date passed already.”
“Can’t we just tell him to go with us?”
