'Not our mall. No way.'
They said the word mall like some people said the word synagogue.
'Someone helped that skank?' .
'Our mall?'
'Eeeuw.'
'I can't, like, believe it.'
'Believe it,' Myron said. 'In fact, he or she is probably here right now. Watching us.' '
Heads swirled about. Even M managed to get into the act, though it was an uninspired display.
Myron had shown the stick. Now the carrot. 'Look, I
want you ladies to keep your eyes and ears open. We'll catch the accomplice. No question about it. Guys like that always talk. But if the accomplice was just a hapless dupe . . .'
Blank faces.
'If she, like, didn't really know the score' not exactly hip-hop lingo, but they nodded now 'and she came to me right away, before the cops nail her, well, then I'd probably be able to help her out. Otherwise, she could be charged with attempted murder.'
Nothing. Myron had expected that. M would never admit this in front of here friends. Jail was a great fearinducer, but it was little more than a wet match next to the bonfire that was teenage peer pressure.
'Good-bye, ladies.'
Myron moved to the other side of the food court. He leaned against a pillar, putting himself in the path between the girls' table and the bathroom. He waited, hoping she'd make an excuse and come over. After about five minutes, M stood up and began walking toward Myron.
Just as he planned. Myron almost smiled. Maybe he should have been a high school guidance counselor. Mold young minds, change lives for the better.
The M girl veered away from him and toward the exit.
Damn.
Myron quickly trotted over, the smile on full blast.
'Mindy'?' He had suddenly remembered her name.
She turned to him but said nothing.
He put on the soft voice and the understanding eyes. A
male Oprah. A kinder, gentler Regis. 'Whatever you say to me is coniidential,' he said. 'If you're involved in this '
'Just stay away from me, okay? I'm not, like, involved in anything.'
She pushed past him and hurried past Foot Locker and the Athlete's Foot two stores Myron had always assumed were the same, alter egos if you will, like you never saw Batman and Bruce Wayne in the same room.
Myron watched her go. She hadn't cracked, which was .
a bit of a surprise. He nodded and his backup plan went into action. Mindy kept hurrying away, glancing behind her every few steps to make sure Myron wasn't following her. He wasn't.
Mindy, however, did not notice the attractive, jeanclad Hispanic woman just a few feet to her left.
Mindy found a pay phone by the record store that looked exactly like every other mall record store. She glanced about, put a quarter into the slot, and dialed a number.
Her finger had just pressed the seventh digit when a small hand reached over her shoulder and hung up the phone.
She spun toward Esperanza. 'Hey!'
Esperanza said, 'Put down the phone.'
'Hey!'
'Right, hey. Now put down the phone.'
'Like, who the fuck are you?'
'Put down the phone,' Esperanza repeated, 'or I'll shove it up a nostril.'
Wide-eyed with confusion, Mindy obeyed. Several seconds later, Myron appeared. He looked at Esperanza.
'Up a nostril?'
She shrugged.
Mindy shouted, 'You can't, like, do that.'
'Do what?' Myron said.
'Like' Mindy stopped, struggled with the thought 'like, make me hang up a phone?'
'No law against that,' Myron said. He turned to Esperanzai 'You know any law against that?'
'Against hanging up a phone'?' Esperanza emphatically shook her head. 'No, senor.'
'See, no law against it. On the other hand, there is a law against aiding and abetting a criminal. It's called a felony. It means jail time.'
'I didn't aid nothing. And I don't bet.'
Myron tumed to Esperanza. 'You get the number'?'
She nodded and gave it to him.
'Let's trace it.'
Again, the cyber-age made this task frightening easy.
Anybody can buy a computer program at their local software store or hop on certain Web sites like Biz, type in the number, and voila, you have a name and address.
Esperanza used a cellular phone to dial the home nunber of MB SportsReps' new receptionist. Her name was, fittingly, Big Cyndi. Six-five and over three hundred pounds, Big Cyndi had wrestled professionally under the moniker Big Chief Mama, tag-team partner of Esperanza 'Little Pocahontas' Diaz. In the ring, Big Cyndi wore makeup like Tammy Faye on steroids; spiked hair that would have been the envy of Sid and Nancy; ripped muscledisplaying T- shirts; and an awful, sneering glare complete with a ready growl. In real life, well, she was exactly the same.
Speaking Spanish, Esperanza gave Cyndi the number.
Mindy said, 'Hey, I'm, like, outta here.'
Myron grabbed her arm. ' 'Fraid not.'
'Heyl You can't, like, hold me here.'
Myron maintained his grip.
'I'll scream rape.'
Myron rolled his eyes. ' 'At a mall pay phone. In broad iluorescent light. When I'm standing here with my girlfriend.'`
Mindy looked at Esperanza. 'She's your girlfriend?'
'Yes.'
Esperanza began whistling 'Dream Weaver.'
'But you can't, like, make me stay with you.'
'l don't get it, Mindy. You look like a nice girl.'
Actually, she was wearing black leggings, too-high pumps, a red halter top, and what looked like a dog choker around her neck. 'Are you trying to tell me that this guy is worth going to jail over? He deals drugs, Mindy. He tried to kill me.'
Esperanza hung up. 'It's a bar called the Parker Inn.' '
'You know where it is'?' he asked Mindy.
'Yeah.'_'
'Come on.'
Mindy pulled away. 'Let go,' she said, stretching out the last word.
'Mindy, this isn't fun and games here. You helped someone try to kill me.'
'So you say.'
'What'?'
Mindy put her hands on her hips, chewed gum. 'So, like, how do I know that you're not the bad one, huh'?'
'Excuse me?'
