couple dancing off beat. I struggled to get myself together. I tried to focus my burning eyes directly on the clock as I turned it around on my nightstand but I couldn’t see a thing.
“Hey, ain’t this the TV lady?” the voice questioned in a low hint above a whisper.
“Yes, this is Georgia Barnett. Who is this?” My mind was starting to clear somewhat.
“You want Butter or not?” the voice asked again. It was male, deep, and gruff.
“Yes! Yes!” I said, sitting up, cradling the phone tightly against my ear. “Where is she?”
“Two G’s and I’ll tell you where.”
“Two thousand dollars?”
“Fuck it then!”
“Wait!! When? How?”
“Right now.”
“Now?”
Where was I going to get two thousand dollars from now? I asked him this in a calm voice because I did not want to make this guy mad and have him hang up on me. Also, I needed to stall. If I could get him to give me a few hours I could call the police, call Doug, and we could plan this thing out. “I can’t get it right now, but later this morning when the banks open I can have it—”
“I ain’t stupid! Now, if you wanna know where Butter at, take your ass to one of them cash stations. TV lady like you oughta have plenty of bank!”
He seemed insulted and turned that insult into volume as he shouted the words at me. This guy was no dummy. And I got the feeling that I was making him a dash p-o’ed.
“I have a cash station card but the max out is five hundred dollars in a twenty-four-hour period.”
“Five hun’ed ain’t shit. I want a grand, ain’t takin’ less than a grand.”
I had some emergency money in my secret stash. I wasn’t going to argue another second. “How can I get it to you?”
“Meet me. Where you live?”
Yeah, right, I’m Boo-Boo the Fool; like I was going to tell him my address. “South Shore,” I answered.
“Meet me in a half hour, you with this ain’t you?”
“Yes, just don’t hurt Butter, okay? Where is she?” I began rattling off questions, forcing him to talk longer so that I could tape his voice into my memory. It would be the only thing I would have to recognize him by. I checked my clock. It read 4:00 A . M .
“She aw’ight! Meet me in half an hour—”
“I need at least an hour … to get dressed, to get the money … to drive where I need to go.”
I heard him using his breath to give hard punctuation to a string of dirty words.
He needed a mother like mine; she would truly do something about that nasty mouth of his.
“Slow-ass females! Okay. One hour from now. Bring the money in a brown paper bag to Sixty-second and Calumet. There’s a railroad yard under the tracks. Go to the middle where there’s a stack of red bricks. You can pull back the fence, it’s cut right there, squeeze on through and wait by the third pole. And no five-oh. Five-oh roll up, I roll out.”
“Okay, but how will I know you?”
He had already hung up.
I slammed the phone down, jumped out of bed, went to my dresser, and grabbed Doug’s card. I came back to the phone and quickly dialed his number. It rang and rang.
C’mon, Doug, wake up!
Then the answering machine picked up and Barry White’s sensual “Your Sweetness Is My Weakness” began playing in the background. Doug’s voice said, “You’ve got the right number at the wrong time but at the sound of the beep, tell me everything …”
Doug had a little mack daddy thing happening on his answering machine and I hesitated. Where is he? Out with a girlfriend? Maybe she’s there now and Doug’s not picking up?
I heard the beep.
“Ummm,” I said, “Doug, this is Georgia. I need your help. I got a call from some guy who says he knows where Butter is. He wants me to meet him at Sixty-second and Calumet, at a rail yard there in an hour and he said no police. I’m afraid to trust anyone else—”
The answering machine clicked off.
I slammed down the receiver, then started to dial the police, but I heard the mysterious voice in
“Hey, ain’t this the TV lady?” the voice questioned in a low hint above a whisper.
“Yes, this is Georgia Barnett. Who is this?” My mind was starting to clear somewhat.
“You want Butter or not?” the voice asked again. It was male, deep, and gruff.
“Yes! Yes!” I said, sitting up, cradling the phone tightly against my ear. “Where is she?”
“Two G’s and I’ll tell you where.”
“Two thousand dollars?”
“Fuck it then!”
“Wait!! When? How?”
“Right now.”
“Now?”
Where was I going to get two thousand dollars from now? I asked him this in a calm voice because I did not want to make this guy mad and have him hang up on me. Also, I needed to stall. If I could get him to give me a few hours I could call the police, call Doug, and we could plan this thing out. “I can’t get it right now, but later this morning when the banks open I can have it—”
“I ain’t stupid! Now, if you wanna know where Butter at, take your ass to one of them cash stations. TV lady like you oughta have plenty of bank!”
He seemed insulted and turned that insult into volume as he shouted the words at me. This guy was no dummy. And I got the feeling that I was making him a dash p-o’ed.
“I have a cash station card but the max out is five hundred dollars in a twenty-four-hour period.”
“Five hun’ed ain’t shit. I want a grand, ain’t takin’ less than a grand.”
I had some emergency money in my secret stash. I wasn’t going to argue another second. “How can I get it to you?”
“Meet me. Where you live?”
Yeah, right, I’m Boo-Boo the Fool; like I was going to tell him my address. “South Shore,” I answered.
“Meet me in a half hour, you with this ain’t you?”
“Yes, just don’t hurt Butter, okay? Where is she?” I began rattling off questions, forcing him to talk longer so that I could tape his voice into my memory. It would be the only thing I would have to recognize him by. I checked my clock. It read 4:00 A . M .
“She aw’ight! Meet me in half an hour—”
“I need at least an hour … to get dressed, to get the money … to drive where I need to go.”
I heard him using his breath to give hard punctuation to a string of dirty words.
He needed a mother like mine; she would truly do something about that nasty mouth of his.
“Slow-ass females! Okay. One hour from now. Bring the money in a brown paper bag to Sixty-second and Calumet. There’s a railroad yard under the tracks. Go to the middle where there’s a stack of red bricks. You can pull back the fence, it’s cut right there, squeeze on through and wait by the third pole. And no five-oh. Five-oh roll up, I roll out.”
“Okay, but how will I know you?”
He had already hung up.
I slammed the phone down, jumped out of bed, went to my dresser, and grabbed Doug’s card. I came back to the phone and quickly dialed his number. It rang and rang.
C’mon, Doug, wake up!
Then the answering machine picked up and Barry White’s sensual “Your Sweetness Is My Weakness” began playing in the background. Doug’s voice said, “You’ve got the right number at the wrong time but at the sound of the beep, tell me everything …”
Doug had a little mack daddy thing happening on his answering machine and I hesitated. Where is he? Out with a girlfriend? Maybe she’s there now and Doug’s not picking up?
I heard the beep.
“Ummm,” I said, “Doug, this is Georgia. I need your help. I got a call from some guy who says he knows where Butter is. He wants me to meet him at Sixty-second and Calumet, at a rail yard there in an hour and he said no police. I’m afraid to trust anyone else—”
The answering machine clicked off.
I slammed down the receiver, then started to dial the police, but I heard the mysterious voice in
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