Now We're Gettin' Somewhere...

For Chapter I, go here.

Chapter II
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As I waited, I scoped out the steady stream of people who passed by me on their way to the reception desk.  After a short conversation, the receptionist would stamp something on the backs of their hands and then point them to one of the elevators that lined both sides of the lobby.  They all seemed to be clients of some sort, and all of them looked kinda nervous and tense as they talked with the receptionist.  A lot of them were rubbing up against the corners of the desk like they had an itch that they couldn't scratch.  As they chatted, I kept noticing the receptionist giving me the evil eye over the shoulders of the clients.  I felt in my bra for my roscoe, relieved that it hadn't fallen out while I was scraping the gum off of my shoe.  Even so, things were still looking a little hinky, so I kept one hand on the blade I had stashed in a garter under my skirt. And so I waited and I waited.  Eventually I dozed off.

I was jolted awake by the sound of a gong coming from the far end of the room behind the receptionist.  All heads in the room swiveled around in the direction of the sound, so I stood up and tried to see what all the hubbub was about.  There was another elevator door all by itself in the far wall.  It was larger than all of the others and had gold doors and expensive gold scrollwork surrounding it. My keen powers of observation told me that this was the VIP elevator.

As I watched, the doors slid open and some kind of procession started moving slowly out into the room.  There were four big palookas dressed in not much more than leather thongs carrying a fancy looking gold chair on poles. Standing on either side of the chair were two more guys dressed like the other guys, but they were waving big feather fans around.  Sitting in the chair was a real classy looking dame wearing a crown.  She was dressed in a shiny gold set of threads with a slit up one side that showed off a set of slinky gams that put mine to shame.  She obviously had never been shot in her knees like I had though.  Still, I was more than a little jealous.

I was shaken out of my trance when a stapler bounced off of the side of my head, knocking my fedora sideways.  I turned and looked in the direction that it came from, and caught sight of the receptionist, who was furiously waving me over with an impatient look on her face.  Rubbing the growing lump on the side of my head, I walked over to the desk.

That's Headmistress Ally.  She's the Big Cheese around here and she came all the way down from her penthouse just to see you, so make sure you show her the proper respect, you dolt!

I sized up the situation and then headed over to where the boys had set down the chair.  I walked up to the chair and held out my hand to the still seated Headmistress.

Hello Ally, I'm Gir....

*CRACK!*

OWWW!  Motherfu....

*CRACK!*

I felt an excruciating pain in the backs of my knees that hurt almost as bad as it did when I used to get shot there by my boss.  I crashed to the floor into a kneeling position.  Turning my head to see what had just happened, I saw the receptionist standing there, brandishing a stiff cane, like she was about to give me another kiss with it.

I said proper respect, you idiot!

She didn't have to tell me twice, so I tried again, this time from the kneeling position.

Hello Headmistress Ally.  My name is Girl Friday and I...

I know who you are and I know why you're here, so let's say we dispense with any of the trivial stuff and get down to brass tacks, shall we?

But of course, Headmistress, thank you for taking the time to come all the way down to speak with me.

Well, I was just heading out for lunch with my boys anyway, so it was really not much of an inconvenience.

I became aware of an unfamiliar sound from behind me and noticed that the receptionist was slowly tapping the cane against the side of her leg.  It looked like she was getting ready to paste me again, so I turned my attention back to Ms Ally while keeping the receptionist in my line of sight at the same time.

So, Girl Friday, my staff informs me that you're here to inquire about the possibility of being retained as an investigator.  I've been told that you're a real dick.  We don't often see female dicks here in Paradise, so I'm inclined to offer you the chance to check into a small but rather aggravating situation for me, even if you did break my favorite moose head.

Beads of perspiration formed on my forehead.  I'd completely forgotten about the moose head.


It seems that someone with an axe to grind has alerted the Dirty Language Division of the FCC to the fact that one of my Empresses has been using the F-word rather frequently on her radio program.  I can't risk having my FCC license pulled, so I'd like you to find out who the whistle-blower is, and why they decided to cause me this unnecessary headache.  Once you find the snitch, I'll take it from there.

Headmistress Ally, I'm not clear on something... you mentioned the F- word. What do......

You know!  The F-word! Fuck!  Do you live under a rock or something? Fuck fuck fucking fuckity fuck!  Is that clear enough for you?

Geez, why is she getting so irritated?

Oh, OK, I think I get the picture now.

After a few seconds, she continued...

You've obviously met Miss Christine, my Security Chief and Good Manners Coach, and I'm going to turn you over to her and have her take you upstairs to meet with Empress Constance, the radio host that I mentioned earlier.  She'll give you any information you might need to help you track down the offending party.

OK boys, I'm getting kinda peckish here and the lunch special down at the Paradise Shrimp Palace doesn't last all afternoon you know. Good luck, Friday, you'll be well compensated if your investigation is successful.

With that, her bearers picked her chair back up and headed for the front door. A couple of the bearers must've been new though, because they miscalculated a little on the height of the door opening, causing Ms Ally to bump her noodle on the door frame, knocking off her crown in the process.

Goddammit!  Pick that up you jerks!  Shit, why is it so hard to get good bearers these days?

Before I could even react to that, I was roughly snatched up by my shoulders and into a standing position by Miss Christine..

OK you dick, let's go see Empress Constance, and don't try any funny stuff in the elevator or I'm gonna have to hurt you.

Super!  I've got a goose egg on my bean and a pair of ugly purple stripes across the backs of my knees, and I hadn't even got out of the lobby yet.  Now I'm no weak sister, but I decided then and there that if I wanted to get paid, I'd better play along.  Next thing I knew,  Miss Christine was giving me the bums rush over to one of the other elevators and when the doors opened, she shoved me inside and stepped in behind me.  I sat on the floor to ease the throbbing in my knees and kept my hand on my blade during the uneasy trip up to the 13th floor and my meeting with Empress Constance....

(to be continued)

Girl Friday  



 

Sure Hope Business Picks Up Soon...

or this chickie dick is gonna be tossed out on the street on her little keister.  Yes, Girl Friday here.  Long time no see.

Chapter I

The only investigation I have open right now is the BillyBear disappearance, but the leads in that case dried up long ago, and the client who was looking for him lammed out of town in a big hurry a few months back.  So here I am with no visible means of support.  I'm talking lettuce, you lugs, so can the wisecracks about my bra and cheaters, OK?

So I've been out every day beating the bushes looking for clients who can actually pay me.  I get at least 20 or 30 calls a day from prospective clients who want my services.  None of them are willing to pay, and most of them want something that's not even connected to my PI business.  I've had to get restraining orders put on at least half of them, and the coppers are gettin' kinda tired of seeing my mug down at the station, always making them fill out complaint forms.  For some reason, I don't think they take me very seriously down there, and they'd rather not be bothered.

Some of my best investigative work so far has been related to the activities of  the Mistresses and clients over at the LDW Building, so I thought I'd wander over that way and snoop around a little.  Maybe there's some business to be had if I'm lucky.   It's been a few years since I was over in that part of town, but I figured that I could still find the place with no problems.  So I stuffed my roscoe in my bra, grabbed a couple of pairs of bracelets just in case, and locked up the office.  Once out on the street, I hiked up my skirt at the first cab that came by, and flashed my gams at the driver.  Just like in the old days, the cab screeches to a halt right in front of me.  Even I was impressed. This girl has still got it!  I guess all of the scars from being shot in my knees by my old boss Tracer have faded enough where they're not noticed.  I gotta say, with a decent pair of pantyhose, my getaway sticks are still looking pretty good, if I do say so myself.

This driver must not have been around back in the days when Tracer and I were regularly stiffing them with Monopoly money, and so he didn't threaten me or insist on getting paid up front.  When I told him to take me over to the LDW Building, he looked at me like I was some kinda rube and told me there was no place in Paradise going by that name.  I told him to head over to the address anyway.  Once we got in the general vicinity, I told him to stop and tossed a photocopied sawbuck at him.  One trick I've learned is to distract the driver by letting my skirt ride up and spreading my gams a little while I'm getting out so he doesn't notice that the spinach is bogus. Tracer could NEVER pull that one off.  I climbed out of the hack to have a look around.

I was standing in front of a big building that looked familiar, but it didn't have the same LDW Building sign on it that I remembered.  Instead, there was a big glowing neon sign spelling out EE in huge letters, with Enchantrix Empire, Ltd. in smaller letters underneath.  I seemed to recall that when I last visited LDW's chatroom, I'd overheard some people calling some of the Mistresses by the name Empress, so I figured that this just might be the same place.  It looked like they'd added quite a few new floors to the building, and since it still didn't look quite right, I walked across the street, stood back in the shadows and lit up a gasper so I could watch the entrance for awhile.

About a half a pack of smokes later and a few wads of chewed gum stuck to my heels, the traffic going in and out of the main door was pretty much as I remembered it. Lots of guys with big bulges in the front of their pants that didn't look like heaters, and plenty of tomatoes in frilly outfits with a little hint of 5 o'clock shadow under their makeup.  I noticed bulges on some of them too.  I also saw some real lookers going around to a separate door on the side of the building, and I assumed by the looks of them that they were the Mistresses and Empresses. I was pretty convinced by then that I'd come to the right place, so I stubbed out the fag on my sole, where it promptly got stuck in a smashed wad of gum.  It was stuck pretty good, and I hoped it would get scuffed off before I had to talk to anybody, because the filter was visibly sticking out on the side of the shoe.

I took a deep breath and walked across the street to the entrance, trying to scrape the gum off my shoe with every step.  As I approached the door, a security guard stepped out and I noticed him looking at me with one eyebrow raised.  

"You OK Miss?  That's a pretty bad limp.  Did you hurt your leg or something or are you just a spaz?"
   
 I was about to pull my roscoe and put an end to that conversation right then and there when I realized that I needed him to let me into the building. I was just glad that he wasn't the same goon I had to drill in both knees the last time I was at LDW to grill that Miss Tara dame.

 "No, my foot's just asleep, that's all.  I'm here to talk to somebody about lining up some investigative work.  Who do I need to speak with about that?". 

I flashed my ID card in his face to show him that I really am a dick, flicking the tip of his nose with it in the process. Gawd I really love when I do that!

He opened the door for me and showed me into a big ornate lobby with expensive leather chairs and couches.  

"Take a seat and wait here Miss, and I'll go get somebody for you."  

I watched him walk across the lobby to a huge carved wooden desk and start talking to a very pretty but powerfully built receptionist.  As they talked, they both kept sneaking furtive little glances over in my direction.  I started to get a little nervous when I saw her get on the horn with somebody, but figured I was "in for a penny, in for a pound", and so I smoothed my skirt over my pins and waited.

(to be continued)

Girl Friday