Life or Death

Hey Friends,

I could barely sleep last night. I tossed and turned in my recliner, stewing over my impending confrontation with Leonard. I pictured myself being strong and to the point, I imagined myself enraged and pointing my pistol at him, I fantasized about manipulating him with reverse psychology...various scenarios went through my mind and I burned inside, both excited and worried about what would be dumped on me.

I got up, took a shower, put on a conservative outfit and did my hair and make up before calling Leonard. He answered the phone within the first three rings--as if he was expecting my call.

"Hi Trasha," He said in a low voice. "I'm sorry your birthday wasn't more festive."

I grunted. "Yeah, whatever--it's just another day. But let's cut to the chase, Leonard. I know you and my sister have something you two are keeping from me and she said I need to come to you about it. So, what the hell is going on?"

He paused then said. "Why don't you meet me for dinner? We can make up for your birthday and I can tell you everything. How does that sound?"

I returned the pause and replied: "Fine. But you're buying and it won't be cheap."

Leonard laughed. "Of course, of course. You sure are something, Trasha."

We agreed to meet at 8:00 p.m. at the Outback Steakhouse near my trailer park. The day went by so slowly. Cunt Face left the house while I was in the shower and Mama spent the entire day sick in bed, Starla by her side. I was left alone, which just made my anxiety worse.

By the time 8 rolled around, I was ready to puke. My stomach was in knots and I wasn't sure if I could even eat a Blooming Onion (but I would, you know, to not be rude). Leonard had already gotten us a booth, so I joined him and ordered a Diet Coke.

"Thank you for meeting me, Trasha. Great place you picked out."

I could sense a bit of sarcasm in Leonard's tone, but I dismissed it--I had bigger fish to fry.

"So, what gives? What do you and my sister have going on and how the fuck does it involve me?"

Leonard smiled and looked down at the menu. "Don't you want to at least order your dinner first before we get into the heavy talk?"

"Are you calling me fat?" I asked, matter-of-factly.

He laughed. "No, no--I mean, there is a lot I need to tell you and it's not something that you can just spit out.

I relented, told the waitress what I wanted and waited until the appetizers came out before I grilled him again.

"So, spit it out, Leonard. I haven't got all day."

He composed himself and then he said:

"I'm not exactly who you think I am, Trasha. You know me as Cain's business partner at the club, but that isn't all together true. I work for the FBI and we've been investigating Cain for some time. Well, after a few years, we've finally had a break in our case and that is thanks to you. I know what Shonda told the police, but I have a little more intelligence on this situation than the local PD. We know you were the one who is responsible for Cain being behind bars and we need you, Trasha. We need you to testify against him so we can put him away for life. Without you, he walks."

I was stunned and couldn't even form words for a few minutes. I nibbled on a piece of Blooming Onion, absently. Then, I said: "But...we had sex! Surely that wasn't part of your assignment, too!"

He blushed and shook his head. "No, no that was definitely not part of my assignment. That was me being incredibly unprofessional, but helpless in the presence of an unbelievably gorgeous woman."

I sipped my Coke, demurely. This wasn't the first time those words had been uttered to me.

"What about Shonda? Why can't she just testify and you all forget I had anything to do with this!"

He lowered his eyes for a moment, then said: "Shonda...she's...dead."

I spit out my drink, spraying Leonard's sweater with beads of cola. "What?!"

He nodded. "Yes, we recently got word of her death. That is why your help is so important."

"But Cain will kill me--you know it, I know it and so does the FBI!"

He reached for my hand. "Cain would kill you if he got out. We can guarantee your safety--I will guarantee it."

My stomach twisted. I put my hand, instinctively, over my womb. All this stress was pissing off the baby.

"I need to think about this Leonard--this is an awful lot to take in."

And he didn't pressure me the rest of the night. As I drove home later that evening, I looked at everything--the nuclear power plant I passed, the diners, the farms, the trailer parks--as if it was the first and last time I'd ever see it again. And there was a good chance, if I didn't play my cards right, that my fears would come true.

Love,

Trasha