“Why should I tell you, his minion?” She sucks on a chunk of coal-colored chocolate fudge. “Do you think I’d share the wealth? Let’s just say, he’s better off keeping me happy and jolly. I must hand it to him. Sending you was a stroke of genius.”
“How so?”
“I wouldn’t be having half as much fun with Mitch as I am with you.” She jabs my bicep and points to a group of customers line dancing. “All summer we did the Git Up challenge, but we weren’t allowed to video ourselves.”
“We have to fix that right now. You stay right here, and I’ll hit the jukebox and get the song started again.”
Sammie wiggles her shoulder and downs the rest of the Christmas Mule cocktail. She licks the cinnamon stick vigorously while her eyes track me across the diner.
I slip my cell phone to another customer and ask her to take a video of Sammie doing the dance. I find Sherelle and ask her to send a troupe of servers to our table to sing “Happy Release Day,” and to treat it like a birthday. Finally, I plug money into the jukebox for the next song.
I know what it’s like to be stuck in prison as if time has stood still and wondering where those years of your life have gone. Sammie has plenty of lost time and fun to catch up on, and in a way, I’m the lucky one who can goof off with her. She’s my best shot at landing Mitch the Bitch. Softening her up so she can give me the goodies is all part of my job description.
The music starts, and I twirl Sammie onto the sawdust-covered floor. More than half of the patrons leave their tables, and soon, everyone is doing their own rendition to the popular dance.
Sammie’s interpretation is a hoot! While the older customers are stiff, and the chubby ones bounce and wobble, it’s obvious why Sammie’s nickname is the Snake.
She undulates her body in a way so sexy and mesmerizing, despite her oversized sweatshirt and saggy jeans, that soon, she’s slithering the two-step hoedown like it’s country-western belly dancing.
I gulp and swallow a load of drool and watch as everyone forms a circle around her, many with camera phones held high. I can’t take my eyes off her and those twisting, turning hips.
When the song ends, everyone claps and cheers for her, and she’s such a ham sandwich, she goes and does an encore. By the time, the servers march out with a candlelit cake, the entire diner is singing to her.
Happy Release Day to you,
You’re out of the zoo.
You’re free to live twice,
Be naughty, not nice.
Sammie squeals and covers her mouth, beaming like she’s never had a birthday party before—I’m betting she hasn’t.
Sherelle hands her the cake and says, “Make a wish, and make it count.”
All cameras are pointed at her as she looks up at the ceiling above, then takes a deep breath.
The heavy diner door swings open, and a cold breeze blows out the candle before Sammie exhales.
A wiry man with a scraggly beard, wearing a motorcycle jacket, leathers, and Gestapo boots thumps over the worn wooden floor.
It’s silent, other than his boot heels, as the entire restaurant holds their breath.
Sammie drops the cake and gives the man the finger. “Mitch the Bitch. What a way to ruin my get out of jail day.”
Now’s my chance to nab him, except I’m surrounded by a crowd. I pat my pocket for my cell phone to get a good picture of him, but I don’t have it.
Mitch marches toward Sammie. “Get on my Harley, and let’s get out of here.”
I can’t let him steal my witness, not like this, so I swagger toward Sammie and bump Mitch off his path. “She’s with me, buddy. And we were just leaving.”
“Who the hell are you?” He pulls a gun. “Get out of my way, and let me take my woman.”
The hush of the crowd breaks with worried murmurs to call the police.
“I’m not yours,” Sammie yaps while she hides behind me.
The gun doesn’t faze me. I’m military trained, black ops, spy agency, and now rogue bounty hunter. With a swift karate chop, I disarm Mitch and twist his arm behind his back. Adding pressure, I break it.
