Ah! I get it.
Shit.
I might be fucking Wolfman Jack tonight.
39
I’ve got forty minutes to kill while waiting for Renee to show up. If I were an author, writing a book, instead of a guy telling you a story, I’d fill the next ten pages telling you how this area was originally a Chickasaw village, and how Chief Paduke welcomed the settlers and lived in harmony till 1827, when William Clark, of Lewis and Clark, showed up with a phony five dollar land deed and forced the Indians to move to Mississippi. I’d tell you that after building the town, Clark was brazen enough to invite Chief Paduke to the ribbon-cutting ceremony, and that the Chief showed up, but died of malaria on the way home.
To impress you with my research I might mention Paducah is one of two cities mentioned in the song, Hooray for Hollywood.
But do you really care?
I don’t think so.
My guess is you’d rather hear about Renee Williams.
Here’s my take on the kindergarten teacher: she’s medium cute. I realize that statement requires clarification, and I’m not sure I’m up to it, but I’ll try.
You know how a puppy’s adorable when he’s sleeping or playing but a grown dog’s disgusting when he humps your leg or licks his dick?
Renee’s the opposite.
Meaning, she’s not the least bit adorable, but I like the way she humps me and licks my dick. I like it so much I hardly look up when the door flies open and Zander’s fake cop boyfriend enters the room with two other guys dressed as policemen.
What gets our attention is all three are holding guns on us.
40
Turns out Zander’s boyfriend is a real cop. Also, he’s not Zander’s boyfriend.
Turns out the reason he didn’t arrest me at the riverbank is because I hadn’t exposed myself, and he’s experienced enough to know a good attorney could reasonably argue I parked there to take a nap and was simply scratching an itch when he happened by.
Turns out the reason he didn’t drive his car down the riverbank is because his partner was busy flirting with the cute young lady with the big handbag (Zander) who said there was a creepy guy in a rental car down the hill, pleasuring himself (me).
Then a car pulled up, Zander climbed in, and they drove away.
No, they didn’t have any reason to question the driver or record the license plate.
I learned the nicest way possible that Renee trimmed her orange bush in the shape of a heart for my benefit, and didn’t appreciate the attention it received from the policemen, particularly the one whose son attended her kindergarten class at Logan Elementary.
The good news is, they allow Renee to go free after being convinced she had nothing to do with the armed robbery that took place at the bowling alley earlier in the day. The one where a female employee named Chris wrote down the make, model, and license number of the rental car she saw in the employee’s parking lot.
After giving police a detailed description of me.
41
This is embarrassing.
I’m in a police lineup with two black guys, an old wino who’s pissing his pants as we speak, and a cross- dressing punk rocker who shit in hers long before I got here.
Guess which of us was eye-witnessed driving the rental car?
Me.
No surprise there.
But there is a surprise.
A big one.
Chris, a.k.a. Zander’s “friend”, fingers me as the guy who, acting alone, forced his way into the bowling alley, put a gun to her head, and made her open the owner’s private safe.
The cops aren’t overly impressed with my story, that Zander scheduled a date with me in order to dupe me into being the getaway driver for her robbery.
Can you blame them?
So they book me and it appears I’ll be spending the night at city jail.
But when my background check comes back and Paducah police learn I’m the world’s greatest Cardiothoracic surgeon, a guy who earns two hundred grand per operation, my story suddenly sounds better than Chris’s.
After an hour of rigorous interrogation, Chris admits Zander set the whole thing up and gave her half the money.
Chris’s boyfriend picked Zander up from the riverbank, accepted Chris’s half of the money for her, and drove Zander to a truck stop in Eddyville, Kentucky. When he dropped her off, he called Chris’s cellphone, and Chris reported the robbery.
Nearly two hours after it took place.
What made Chris finally spill her guts?
Outrage.
Zander gave Chris and her boyfriend half the bowling alley money, as promised.
But when Chris heard about the eight-thousand dollar robbery that took place around my ankles at the riverbank, she freaked out. She felt half of that should have gone into her pocket.
Police can’t locate anyone named Zander Evans in their data banks. The detectives can’t even get a hit on Google.
I tell them about the dating website, but they tell me she’s pulled her photo and closed her account. It could take the police department weeks to gain access to the original records.
They’re happy to hear I’ve got recent photos of Zander on my cell phone.
They download the photos, take down my information, and tell me I’ll need to come back to town at some point to testify against Zander and/or Chris.
I tell the cop who’s not Zander’s boyfriend I’m willing to come back if I can fit it into my schedule.
“I could jail you till then, if that would make things easier for you,” he says.
I hope they never catch Zander.
Not because she has my support, but because if I have to testify against her the entire riverbank episode will be on the public record. Can you imagine how embarrassing it would be for me if the multi-million dollar donors to my hospital found out their top surgeon was unable to sustain an erection during a routine blowjob?
It’s late by the time I get back to the hotel, and I’m exhausted. But not too exhausted to open the door for Renee, who wants to spend the night despite the unwelcome police visit earlier.
“What made you decide to come back?” I say.
“You know that cop whose son was in my class at school last semester?”
