Big Easy Bonanza

lot of kids,” she said, trying to get him back on track.
    He didn’t reply, and she had to let it drop. Monique rode her bicycle down to the blue mailbox to send Lisa a postcard of’ the monkeys in the Audubon Zoo. She had written that someday the two of them would visit the zoo together. There was a danger, of course, that her mama would throw the card away, but Monique couldn’t help that. She was pedaling back to her apartment when the driver of a parked car swung his door open, almost causing her to crash into it head first. She had to slide off the seat and put both feet on the ground to stop. She turned on the driver with her mouth open and a yell halfway out, when she saw it was “Jack Daniels,” the guy Darryl had told her to stay away from a couple of months before.
    “Oh, so sorry, Monique,” he said, grinning. He didn’t look sorry, and he looked even more like a cop in the daytime than he did when he was stoned at night. Big guy, long sideburns, giving off asshole, macho vibes. Ned, her ex, had been a small-town cop, giving her an attitude about cops in general, but evidently something about them attracted her, too—a mystery she was trying to work out.
    “I thought it was time maybe we had another date,” Jack Daniels said.
    “That’s a crazy way to ask for it. You could have broken my neck. And, since you asked, I don’t think so.”
    “Come on, baby. Didn’t I prove I was a nice guy? I’ve been missing you.”
    “Sorry, I don’t go in for reruns. It sends the wrong message.”
    “I liked the message you sent the first time.”
    “It will just have to last you.” Monique started to back up on her bike to get away from there.
    “Don’t leave me yet,” he said. “Are you getting all the nose candy you want?”
    “That was just one time, Mr. Jack Daniels. And, yeah, I get everything I need.”
    “I’m sure your probation officer would like to hear that.”
    She stopped and stared at him. He was still grinning with a real sincere look in his eyes.
    “What are you talking about?” she asked.
    “I’m talking about J. W. Whitley, your probation officer in beautiful Brewton, Alabama, honey, and how you’re violating those important rules he told you about. It’s all in the national crime computer, plain as day. I’m talking about tossing your apartment and busting you, little girl. I’m talking about sending you back to Alabama.”
    This can’t be happening, Monique thought, but I can handle this.
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she spat out. “I’ve got friends here. Talk to my lawyer. I don’t need to listen to your bullshit.”
    “Yeah you do, Monique. Ever since our little affair together, I’ve been asking around about you. I know you’re Darryl Alvarez’s special squeeze, though the way he treats you I personally don’t understand. And I’ve talked to, wanna guess? Neddy. Ol’ Officer Ned of the Evergreen, Alabama, PD? He wants custody of a little girl named Lisa. I think when I bust you and send you back that will be very easy for him.”
    A black hole opened up underneath Monique and she fell in. It closed up on top and all the sunlight was gone. It was all darkness and cold, in there, inside her head.
    She stared at the man and tilted her head to one side.
    “What do you want?” she asked. She really had no idea what it could be, what could come out of his mouth, that she didn’t want to hear.
    “Your man, Darryl, is taking a drive down to the Gulf sometime in the next week or two. I want to know when.”
    “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”
    “Better make it your business to find out. I need to know exactly when he’s going. ”
    “And then what?”
    “And then you call me and ask for Casey. Here, I’ll write it down.” He scribbled on the inside of a matchbook cover: Casey, 555-3233.
    “What do you want to know for?”
    “It’s business. But nothing happens to Darryl. He’ll be fine. Don’t you worry. We’ll talk some more later.”
    He started the car. “Watch out you don’t get run over,” he laughed, and pulled away from the curb while she frantically yanked her bike out of the way.
    Instead of going back to her apartment, Monique rode way out to the end of the rock jetty that protected the boats in the harbor. The day had turned cloudy and windy, and whitecaps rolled across the lake. Most of the sailors were back in, and the stragglers were tacking hard in her direction. A couple of boys