Sale City
It was a hot July afternoon and the two lanes of blacktop slowly twisted through the pine forest. Breaks in the trees revealed scattered farms across the country side. Small side roads and driveways split off from the road and into the woods. Then, I almost missed it. A paved county road off to the right. An aged road sign covered in vines was the only marker. Barely visible was "Sale City" with a red arrow. I had already pasted the intersection when the thought hit me. That is the name of the town that Carlton had listed as the home of one of his deadbeats.
I had been looking for this place for about six months. It, for some reason, did not appear on any map. It was as if it didn't exist. The deadbeat owed Carlton a lot of money of which 25% was mine if I found him. I traveled in a sales job throughout the south and had found this sideline of tracking debtors for Carlton. The majority of the deadbeats were hiding from ex's, bail bondsmen, the law and him. My travel for business was the ideal cover and an easy manner made me perfect for the job.
After a few miles of narrow, paved road, I saw something ahead. It was like many small, rural towns that I passed through regularly that were on their last legs. A run down grocery with gas pumps, maybe 10 houses, and what appeared to have been a church. There was a lone car at the grocery with a man pumping gas. As I approached, he turned and to both of our surprise, we knew each other.
"Greg, what fuck are you doing here?" I asked.
Though we had not seen each other in ten or so years, it was like we had just said goodby.
"Pumping gas" he said in his familiar, sarcastic tone."What are you up to. Looking for a gas station to rob?"
"no, I'm skip tracing a deadbeat. It's kind of a part time job. Saw a sign back on the highway for Sale City. This wouldn't be it would it?"
"You got it buddy. This is the big town of Sale City." answered Greg. "They could have called it Sex City or Sin City but that would bring to much attention."
"The whole town is owned by the local sheriff". Greg said. "I made friends with him while I was awaiting trial on drug charges. The sheriff and the local judge arranged for me to skip out on bond, disappear and become the town manager. I couldn't pass up the opportunity when the alternative was a minimum 15 years in jail."
Greg and I, in our younger years, had been drug smugglers on the Gulf Coast. "Work like a dog and party like a pirate" were words we lived by. We were the kind of drug runners that people wrote songs about. We made a lot of money. We spent pretty much all of it having a good time. Over the years we had made a lot of contacts. They included a number of wealthy and powerful people through out the south and beyond. When Greg's new friend, the sheriff, learned of his colorful past and his contacts, he had made him the offer.
"Why don't you stick around tonight and come to the church auction? We have one every month and it just happens to be tonight." grinned Greg.
I didn't know if Greg was pulling my leg or serious. Greg, me, and church in the same sentence just didn't happen. But for now, Greg led the way into the grocery store.
"This is center of all town business and my home. Not much here in the store but there is a whole lot more to this town. Have dinner and I'll tell you all about it" said Greg.
After a few drinks, a large steak, and some catching up Greg indicated it was time to go. Walking out the front door, I was surprised at the amount of activity in what had been a ghost town. The church had all the lights on and the parking lot had a number of cars. We entered through a side door and instead of a church, we entered what appeared to be a high end bar and lounge. A couple of stages, lots of tables with overstuffed chairs, and a fully stocked bar. A number of well dressed men milled about visiting.
Down the hall and first door on the right was Greg's office. He took a seat behind the desk and offered me the loveseat. He picked up the phone, said a few words and hung up. Within a minute the office door opened and in stepped a tall, slender redhead in a black cocktail dress. Low cut in the front, no back and just long enough to cover her ample ass. Six inch stripper heels made for a great outfit.
"Meet Mary, our church secretary" smiled Greg. "She is in charge of all our events."
She was so sexy and good looking that I hardly noticed the tray of drinks she carried. But, when she bent over to set it down, I did notice that her ass peaked out from the bottom of her dress. Mary turned, smiled as if she was pleased that I had caught a glimpse of her ass, and left as quickly as she came in.
"What the hell kind of church do you have here?" I asked. "It is nothing like any church I've ever seen or heard of. And where in hell did you find Mary?"