BABY GIGOLO.

On a garbage dump.

It was a beautiful moonlit night. The moon hung low, casting an icy cold brilliance over a peaceful and somber earth. I was putting the finishing touches to an otherwise perfect toilette, looking stunning in black and matching black long wig with not a hair out of place. With the final touch of rolled gold bangles on both arms, I was ready to take on the world. I was looking forward to paying my sister in drag a long-overdue visit. Just as I was about to leave, I received a call from one of our agents, telling me that the merchandise was moving fast and that they needed delivery as soon as possible.

It was late and there was no one around so I decided to do the drop on my way to my visit. As I walked the streets, thoughts of my past life flooded my memory. There were things I would rather forget, but tonight they seemed persistent in demanding attention. I remembered the time when I was homeless and the only place I called home was a piece of plastic that I made into a tent. Summers were hot and most of the time I slept under the stars. Winters were the worst. With only plastic to cover me and a cardboard box for a bed, the rain and wind pelted me mercilessly. I know what down and out poverty feels like and that's why I was so grateful to Bossy when he offered me a job and a place to stay. There's nothing I wouldn't do for him.

I made a mental note to visit Aunt Letties' shebeen. I haven't been there for a while and I missed the drama of it all. I turned a corner and stopped dead in my tracks. At the end of the road, at the house where I was supposed to do the drop, I saw blue and red lights flashing silently. Police vans surrounded the house and the shadows of police officers were cautiously stalking their prey.

A drug raid. There was no way I could go near that place, and I did not want to. I was the only one in the street. I am always amused that the streets, always teeming with loafers, are dead quiet when a raid takes place. The door of every single house is locked and bolted, lights are switched off, and, from within the dark houses, everyone is peeping breathlessly through a tiny section of the closed curtain, not wanting to miss a single detail of the action. I turned on my well-heeled feet to retrace my steps.

"Hey! You there. Stop."

I walked on, pretending that I did not hear or that it was not addressed to me.

"Hey, I'm talking to you."

I recognized police officer Abrahams' voice. My heart gave a violent jolt and for a second I thought of turning around and facing him, but courage failed me and I walked faster. He was quite a distance from me and I thought that if I slipped quietly into a side street, he would never find me. I, after all, know every nook and cranny like the palm of my hand. This was where I ruled. I heard the sound of running police boots behind me and I started to run as well. There was no way he was going to catch me with illegal drugs on my person and I already imagined the punishment from Bossy should I lose it.

Merchandise is money and the loss of both can cost a person dearly. I have no desire to put myself through that. His heavy size eleven footsteps came closer and I ran faster. Not fast enough because he was gaining on me. All that gym training I thought bitterly. I heard him shouting several times but, whether it was for me to stop or for reinforcements, I was not going to hang around to find out. My main concern was the safety of my cargo. I clutched it tight under my arm and tried to run faster. The tight-fitting Lycra dress was not helping matters and stilettos were not meant for running. It was designed to strike a pose, but this was not the time to ponder such irrelevant matters.

While running I kicked off my shoes and stripped the jangling bangles off my arms. It was making too much noise and acted as a fingerpost of my location. With the bag slung over my shoulder I did the best I could, on torn black silk stockings, to put as much distance between me and my pursuer. At one point, while squeezing through a small hole in a wire fence, my beautiful black wig got caught on a protruding hook and ripped off my head. I left it there because my life was worth more than that. The race escalated to a full-on chase. I ducked and dived through narrow alleys, through backyards, over broken fences, and still, he clung to my heels like a bulldog. I was growing tired.

This undignified running was no job for a woman of my standing, I thought while panic clutched at my throat. My breathing came fast and irregular and my body was torn and bruised in some places. In front of me loomed a short stretch of a dark field with a clogged-up, stinking, slow-flowing little stream with a mountain of refuse on its opposite bank that served as a barrier between Bontas East and safe passage to Bontas West. With Daisy in my right hand, the safety catch released and my finger on the trigger, I reached it and waded through. I touched the mountain of refuse, ready to start climbing when I heard the fatal words ringing out from behind me.

"Stop or I'll shoot."

My instincts for self-preservation kicked in and, without thinking twice, I fired a shot in the direction of his voice.

Two loud gunshots broke the dead silence. I hope I did not kill him. It was only meant as a warning. I didn't hear the voice behind me anymore. That should teach him, I  thought. But why do I feel so dizzy and my legs feel so heavy all of a sudden? Yes, the chase was hard but surely not enough to have drained all my energy? And certainly not to this extent?

Suddenly a searing pain ripped through my right side where officer Abrahams' bullet had hit me, setting it on fire, raging through my body like a wild animal let loose tearing my insides apart. The pain was excruciating. The force of it spun me like a top and, with hands flailing wildly through the air, brutally flung me against the side of a rubbish dump. The surface was rough under my skin and some sharp object cut my already mutilated body.

Now it was simply a matter of getting over the mountain of garbage that was blocking my way to freedom, I thought as I stood there, hugging the dirt like a warm blanket. My body's temperature alternated between freezing cold and unbearable heat. Painfully slow I clawed my way onto the top of the heap, resting occasionally to catch my breath and give my aching body a rest. I reached the top and very carefully laid down on my back.

~•~

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