*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.
Chapter 6
Ronnie found out just how hard it was to get shaved, showered, and dressed for his job while caring for a five year old that needed to be ready for St. Joseph's Elementary School and a three year old that needed to be ready for Happyland Day Care.
Finally, he did the logical thing, got RJ ready, fixed their breakfasts, fixed RJ's lunch, then got Sandra dressed and got her to the day care, just as soon as the bus picked up RJ for school.
Then he came back home, called Jacy Kay at Young Insurance to let the receptionist and let her know he would be late.
"Um, you already are and Mrs. Elizabeth is not happy," Jacy said in her squeakily little girl voice. "Remember? Today is the Health Meeting?"
Ronnie vowed to kill Georgie. Apparently, she had known that today was the one day he really needed to be in the office on time.
In Sheriff Bob Chastaine's office, Ritchie Himmer wasn't having a very good day either.
"Fuck, really?" Ritchie Himmer spat when Sheriff Bob Chastaine informed him he was being partnered with Leeanne.
"Ritchie, listen, I'm sorry," Bob hissed under his breath. "She's already been with everyone else."
"Anyway," Bob continued in a normal voice. "You're one of the best; who knows? You might actually teach her something."
"Fucking affirmative Action bull shit," Ritchie groused as Leeanne entered the office.
"Ready, Partner?" Leeanne Sexton cheerfully asked, putting her cap on over her bright red hair.
"Gene, God damn, you know in India, when a leper comes down the street, they're told they have to loudly announce 'unclean!' as they walk so people know to get out of their way," Bob said as Gene Paice entered the office.
"Really? They still make them do that shit?" Gene asked, puzzled.
"They ought to make you do that shit so I'll know to run so I don't have to see that face," Bob said and the two shook hands.
"Aw, your ass!" Gene laughed.
"Sir?" Georgie asked, lightly rapping on the door.
"Oh, good, good, Georgie, get in here and close that door," Bob smiled.
"Her?" Gene asked, seeing an attractive young woman, certainly too small, too vulnerable for what they had in mind.
"Hey Georgie, take the hoodie off, huh?" Bob asked, smiling widely.
"Sir Yes sir," Georgie did and pulled the hoodie off, revealing the white sports bra she wore underneath.
"Son of a..." Gene gawked at the muscled woman.
"And here's her firearms rating, her test scores . Believe me, we really lucked out when we got this rookie in here," Bob said as Georgie flexed a few poses.
"Have you explained to her..." Gene asked, still in open mouthed admiration.
Georgie pulled the hooded sweatshirt back on and took a seat with Bob motioned to her to do so.
She listened to Captain Gene Paice as the man explained what they needed. Basically, she would go undercover, pretend to be a hooker, gather information from the other prostitutes, monitor the drug activity, and see if she could find the source.
"We know the source, actually, it's just we need irrefutable evidence," Gene said tightly.
He leaned close to Georgie.
"There is nothing, and I do mean nothing I hate more in this world than a dirty cop," he hissed urgently.
"Sir, I'm married," Georgie said. "I agree, I hate dirty cops too, but a hooker? I really am not comfortable with the idea of..."
"And you won't have to," Bob assured her.
The trio went over her cover, whom she would report to, and how.
"Need to be a good actor," Bob smiled.
"I'm married, sir," Georgie smiled. "If I can act like I give a hoot who wins the Final Four, this should be no problem."
"Aw hey now! Final Four? That's important!" Gene said.
"Oh I agree!" Georgie said, face a mask of enthusiasm.
"I love her," Gene laughed. "Honey, you get tired of looking at Sheriff Ugly here, I got a spot on my force for you,"
"Gene, steal this one don't ever talk to me again, hear?" Bob said seriously.
Georgie was given a car, a battered Mercury Sable with the speakers and stereo already ripped out,
"Yeah, looks like crap," John Farmer, owner/operator of George's Garage agreed. "And it handles like you're driving a truck; we installed heavy duty shocks on it."
He pointed to a small switch under the steering column.
"Flip that up, you got nearly six hundred horsepower; it'll get you out of there in a hurry. Glass is Plexiglas; they're not going to be able to break into it. Tires have three locking nuts on each one and the rims have solid steel doughnuts. Even if they shoot out your tires, you'll still be able to role."
"Good God," Georgie said, surprised at all the features built into the battered looking vehicle.
"Here you are, Miss Andrews," John said, calling Georgie by her undercover name while handing her the falsified paperwork.
"Thank you, sir," Georgie said.
At the apartment, Rayanne dashed down the stairs, even though she still had thirty minutes to get to her two o'clock class. She could see the mailman up the street, but knew it'd take him at least ten minutes to get to their apartment building and decided not to wait.
She waved at that attractive blonde as the woman was backing an ugly looking car into her parking spot and frowned. She could have sworn that the woman had been driving a mini-van yesterday. Rayanne shrugged; maybe Georgie had borrowed the van for moving boxes.
After class, Rayanne used the library until it was time to meet with her Student Advisor, then found a Sociology study group,.
Finally, she decided to return to her apartment.
Her mailbox had a key and she puzzled over it for a minute, then realized she was supposed to use the key to open one of the large mailboxes at the end of the cluster of boxes.
"Oh!" she almost screamed happily as she found a large package waiting for her.
Georgie stepped out of her apartment, very uncomfortable with her appearance in poor white trash drug addict hooker clothing.