Trespassers Will Be Prostituted. by Jamie Lee Scott

Author:Jamie Lee Scott [Scott, Jamie Lee]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jamie Lee Scott

Ten

Charles

It turned out the place Max had picked to eat was a homemade version of Denny’s, with twenty-four-hour breakfast, burgers, and a multitude of other items on the menu. Even though it was late in the evening, Max and I both had omelets. We didn’t speak much about what we were doing while we were eating, because we were starving. The best thing about this place was the coffee, fresh and hot.

The waitress placed a plate of apple pie à la mode in the middle of the table and handed both Max and me a spoon. I picked up my spoon and dug into the hot apple pie, scooping some vanilla ice cream with it.

Max took a sip of coffee, but didn’t reach for the pie. “You know, we should bring the FBI in on this. They probably have connections to the Russians that we don’t know about.”

I swallowed my pie and thought for a moment before speaking. “If they’re in on it, and they know something, then why haven’t they shut them down? What reason could they possibly have to let them continue to prostitute these young girls?”

Max finally gave in and picked up his spoon. The pie was almost to his lips when he said, “They’re always going for the bigger fish. I just don’t want to be stepping on anyone’s toes. This is my job. I think I’m going to let you go back out on the street and continue to look. I’m going to make a few phone calls. I need to see what I can find out. Make sure we aren’t going to blow something wide open that needs to stay shut.”

I barely nodded my head, not sure if I was disappointed in Max’s stance, or if he was right. If the FBI was looking at these people, they needed to hurry up. Bigger fish, my ass. The idea for me was to get these girls out of there.

We didn’t speak much as we finally finished the apple pie and drank the rest of our coffee. We parted ways in the parking lot. Max was still sitting in his car as I drove back up to International Boulevard.

Max was definitely right about the traffic getting heavier as the night went on. And I was right about the BMWs, Mercedes, and other fine cars. At this time of night, my Spyder didn’t stand out quite so much. I wasn’t sure if I should sit on the side and watch traffic go by, or cruise up and down the boulevard to see where the girls were hanging out.

It seemed as if the girls traveled in groups. I don’t know if that was for safety, or if their pimps required it. You would think, for better business, that they would spread out and not fight each other for the next guy soliciting them.

In the next forty-five minutes, I saw everything. There was a sixty-year-old white woman with short choppy hair that looked to have patches of scalp exposed, wearing just a tube top and miniskirt.

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