Strike Two

They call me Ms. Lady around here. In other words I am the Ma'am, the Your Honor, the Messiah.. the Lord. The Landlord. Been that way for over twelve years. You can say I've pretty much seen it all around these streets. So when this escort tried to convince me she was some sort of model, I wasn't buying it.

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"I don't rent to.. models." Ms. Lady said suggestively as she lit the end of her cigarette. It was another scorching hot Summer afternoon. The office fan felt more like a space heater than a cool breeze. However, the heat didn't bother Ms. Lady as much as the sound of this so-called model's voice. "Whaaatt!! You tripping Ms. Lady.. gurrrrl! I'm telling you!" the model dragged. "Somebody over on Alvarado told me you got models living here!" she blurted out.

"Uh huh. How about you leave my office." Ms. Lady pointed to the door as she calmly ashed her cigarette. She could feel her blood starting to boil. Ms. Lady didn’t care much for people and was beginning to hate the sight of this model even more. A growing look of irritation came across her face. This so-called model was not only unwanted she was crowding her space. Ms. Lady loved her office real tight and narrow. Big enough for a desk, two chairs, a coffee mug, and a cactus plant. Everything she needed. She didn't have room for hookers, or models as they call themselves these days. Her patience disappeared years ago for that, but thats for another time. Ms. Lady was known to keep strangers uncomfortable. She liked most conversations straight and to the point. Rarely would you ever find anyone breathing her air – said it made her itch.

"Ms. Ladyyy, I know for a fact you got models up in here! Come on ..like really? Look! I'm already in the top ten percent this monntth,,"the model flashed a smile waving around some cracked phone screen. Ms. Lady was beyond annoyed. To her, this conversation reached its peak sometime around the moment she saw the unusually large "Zendi" tote bag. "Let yourself out" she graced the model's face with a small smoke trail. She could feel herself growing wheezy from the scent of melted cocoa butter and diluted body spray. The model continued raving about some online link ignoring Ms.Lady's blatant insolence. "I promise. Come onn – let me do six-months with you right nooww." the model grappled through her raggedy large bag and pulled out a wad of cash. Ms. Lady couldn’t help but notice the model's chipped neon green nails as she placed the money on her desk. 

She paused and exhaled deeply. It was time she let this model sort know. She slowly put out her cigarette. "Listen hooker..Your grimy dirty money doesn't bah-dazzle me.” she snapped. "Take your acrylics and dusty heels somewhere else, Kapesh?” she stood up and walked to the door. "Get out my office." she opened the door staring coldly at the model.

"But, I don't understand , the money is all there! Six mon--" the model whined."I said get the HELL OUT!!" Ms.Lady growled. The model got up and swung her blonde wig over her shoulders lightly smacked Ms.Lady on the way out. "You know…It is true... What they say about you witch! You just a lonely bitter old lady." the model yelled as she strutted fiercely out the front door.

Yeah, maybe Ms.Lady did have models in her building, but not those kind. The kind to only cause trouble funking up her hallways with cheap perfume and hair spray. The kind to wake her up in the middle of the night claiming to be hiding from their "manager". Ms. Lady knew that kind all too well but, that’s for another time.

Exhausted from the commotion, she decided that would be enough for the day. She locked up her office and walked the halls. Ahhh, nice and quite. – she thought. Feeling satisfied, she took the elevator to her apartment on the top floor. No one was allowed on her floor unless  “you dying or want to be dying.”  The day was over, and she could finally be alone. When she arrived home, she decided on a hot bubble bath and a good episode of CSI Miami. The lavender fragranced bath bomb penetrated her pores as she scrubbed the day away. The sound of Lieutenant Horatio's voice faintly echoed from the living room. She could feel herself relaxing into the evening when she was suddenly disturbed by a knock on the door.

"Well God-Damnn!" She hissed. Ms. Lady grabbed a towel and stormed out the tub. A parade of wet footprints trailed towards the door. "For Fucks Sake! Who the hell is it??" she hollered from behind the door. Ms.Lady swung open the door open to see the boy's mother sobbing in the doorway.."What the hell is it!?" she groaned.

"Ms. Lady.. I dont mean to bother you.. I really don't" she wiped the tears flowing down her cheeks."it’s Bradley!"--- "What about him?"... "he's….he's missing!"