I woke before the sunrise and dressed for travel. I was ready to move but my clothes had not come back from the dry cleaners. I impatiently called the concierge and asked him to check on my laundry. A few minutes later there was a soft knock at the door. I yanked it open just enough to allow the clothing to pass through without being seen. A $10 bill was clasped in my hand and it was accepted as we traded our offerings. With that done, I grabbed my suitcase and headed toward the stairwell.
I exited through the service area without notice. The night air was still crisp and my breath sent puffs of white to dance among the streetlights. I had a five block walk to the parking garage where my next car was waiting. At the corner of Spaight and Lake Street my associate, Bonzo, nodded as I approached. His undercover work is top notch with every detail taken care of. He looked like he’d been living on the street for years.
“Hey lady, you got any change?” he called. Even his voice fit the part
Cans and bottles were tossed here and there and I caught a whiff of sour piss as I approached. His face was dirty and weathered and his hands crippled as I handed him some money. This was our ritual when all was well. The “money” was in fact a list outlining his next assignment.
I continued toward the car and eased into the seat. The engine on this beauty purred to life as I turned the key. Satisfied that my time in this town was behind me, I pulled out of the ramp and headed west.