“Ordinarily, you wouldn’t. But I’m putting it through because you engineered the dropping. That means you have two payments coming to you. Zell and Jug. Jug is a big one. Do you want me to direct deposit them for you?”
“Yes. It would be nice if I live to spend them. I wasn’t able to get a bond posted for Jug, and it was suggested that I might be taking a one-way ocean voyage in the near future if I don’t get Jug out of jail.”
Connie stopped smiling. “Seriously?”
“Hard to tell,” I said. “I need to talk to Harry.”
“Nobody talks to Harry,” Connie said.
“That’s going to change. Where do I find him?”
Connie suddenly realized that I had a dog. Mr. Big was leashed and calmly sitting on my foot.
“What’s with the dog?” Connie asked.
“It’s Mr. Big,” I said. “It’s Jug’s dog. He has anxiety if he’s left alone.”
“Yes, but why do you have him?”
“I keep asking myself that same question,” I said. “Where can I find Harry?”
“He has an office on Beryl Street, off State. It’s a block away from Rangeman,” Connie said. “You’ll have a hard time seeing himthere. You’ll have a better chance catching him at lunch. Most days he walks two blocks to Moachie’s Grille, and he takes the booth in the back. Sometimes he eats alone and sometimes he’s got business partners. Don’t approach him if he has business partners. Change tops with Lula and stuff your bra so you’ve got some cleavage. The word is that Harry doesn’t fool around but he likes to look.”
I cut my eyes to Lula. She was wearing a magenta tank top that had some shiny magenta threads running through it. It was stretched to maximum capacity over her enormous boobs, and she had about a quarter mile of cleavage showing in the low scoop neck. “It’s not going to fit me,” I said.
“It’s all spandex,” Lula said. “It’ll shrink up when I take it off. The bigger problem is that I’m going to have to wear your T-shirt, and I don’t have a T-shirt personality. Plus, it’s going to ruin my ensemble.”
“Take one for the team,” I said, turning my back to the front window and stripping down to my bra.
Lula took my T-shirt and handed me her tank top. “That lacy bra you’re wearing is pretty,” Lula said, “but it’s for little boobies. I need a major suspension system to hold my girls up.”
I pulled Lula’s tank top over my head and tucked it into my jeans. She was right about the spandex. The top molded to my body.
“Better,” Connie said, looking at me.
“It’ll be even better if she stuffs half a roll of toilet paper into her teeny-tiny bra,” Lula said.
I went into the bathroom and transformed my B-cup breasts into bulging D cups.
“Now we’re talking,” Lula said when I came out of the bathroom. “Now your girls are saying,Hey, Harry, feast your eyes on these titties.”
“Do you really think this is necessary?” I asked Connie.
“Hell yeah, it’s necessary,” Lula said. “Now you got the power of the tit. Men get confused when they look at big titties. It’s a scientific fact that it scrambles their brain. I read it somewhere. You could get a man to agree to almost anything if you show him big titties.”
I looked at Connie and grimaced, and Connie shrugged.
“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. You can’t dispute science,” Lula said.
I shrugged into my hoodie, leaving it unzipped, and settled my messenger bag on my shoulder. “I’m on my way.”
“You taking the dog with you?” Lula asked.
“Yes.”
“I’m not holding the dog.”
“Then you can drive, and I’ll hold the dog.”