Mission Improbable

Dear Mom,

There was a lot about my late teens that I never admitted, and this is one of those stories. I know you wouldn't have approved and that's why I never told you how it all came to be that I took an interest in being a cop.

Night fell across the valley, and we were ready for anything. What happened was like something out of a novel or a movie. It's funny how things appear when you take a look back at the absurdity of life. As I stare down the barrel of time, even I struggle to believe this was my life, once upon a time.

The music was blaring and we could hear the band from the parking lot. As we rolled in, using a car from the impound lot, the crowd going in was suddenly all eyes on us. It was part of the "legend" we had manufactured.

The legend was simple. We were just two guys from out of town. It required little rehearsing or reinforcement. We both fit in with the crowd and filling the role of college-aged party boys was an easy task. We had the money to throw around, the flashy car that was out of a typical college-aged person's reach, and we dressed the part. But, who were we?

"You ready for this?" asked Donovan.

Sitting there at that moment, I was nervous about the entire setup. It was my first time using an assumed background. When a friend needs help what else can you do but help them? It would have been nice to have had an alternative back then, any alternative.

"As ready as I'll ever be," I replied.

"Just remember," he reminded me, "I'm an exchange student and you're my host brother."

"I got it," I told him. "You just remember that if that practiced accent doesn't hold then you're blown in this area."

"I know," he said, pumping himself up to be someone he'd been practicing for weeks to become.

We stepped out and approached the gate to the club. Getting past the line was easy enough. One of the security guys was a P2 patrol officer. We'd been introduced and told that we could use him to pass the crowd. Now it was my turn to play someone I hadn't before. Suddenly, I was the smooth-talking, cash flashing, party boy with questionable means and more connection than an "eighteen" year old should have.

"Mr. James," he announced as we approached, "It's a good crowd tonight, come right in."

As our contact at the door opened the ropes I shook his hand and slipped him a Benjamin in a less than perfect manner, just to make sure it was noticed. We wanted the crowd to assume a picture of who we were without having to actually identify that way. It would bring them to us, hopefully.

Once inside we headed over to the "bar" to grab a soda. This was, after all, an under-21 club. Standing at the bar, acting nonchalant about everything, there were tons of people passing by. It wasn't long before Donovan noticed we were marked.

"That's the goal, right."

It was too fast. The handlers had told us to watch for any attention that came overly easy. The unnerved members of the local crews would likely be suspicious if they marked us too fast.

"How do we play it?"

The girls were the key. If we were marked too quickly but wanted to cement our covers we needed to pick up on the local talent. It would relax the local crews that might be watching and paint us as just a couple of players. The fact that there was a textbook that explained this was always a little creepy to me, but made sense.

"What do you think of the ones at 50 feet on your eight o'clock?" he asked.

I pivoted a bit and noticed there were two very attractive young ladies that occasionally flashed glances our way. They were trying not to be obvious but doing a poor job. One of them was like something out of an 80s rock video. She had on the skin-tight dress that only went down to the middle of her quads. In that dress, her deep tan was very noticeable. Her hair was big, long, and framed her face in a magic way.

"As long as I get the brunette," I told him.

"Why not the blonde?"

"I looked at her. She's not my cup of tea," I told him.

"Fine, dammit."

"Hey, you got me into this. That's the least you can do for putting my ass in the crosshairs," I told him.

"No, you're right. I wouldn't have a shot at pulling off this job without you," he admitted.

"How do you want to approach?"

The idea was to use the legends. Jonathan "Johnny" James and his Australian exchange roommate Donovan D.K. Willis were out getting to know the local nightlife and thought it would be nice to meet a couple of girls.

We needed to look like we were good at the roles so we went over and introduced ourselves. Pouring on the charms, we were quickly invited to join the ladies. Katie was the blonde. Elizabeth was the brunette with the big hair, an incredible smile, and the rock video model body.

The music from the band was incredible and the girls wanted to dance. After just a couple of songs, unfortunately having to lie about who we were and what we were really doing in the city, we found out that we were very good at this. Elizabeth, or Liz as I came to know her, whispered something surprising in my ear.

"Do you wanna get out of here?"

If I recall correctly, I stuttered the answer. There went the smooth-talking, fast-acting guy I was supposed to be.

Not only did the girls want to get out of there but when we said we were planning on driving back to our area that night they both asked to come with us. We considered what we were doing, but only for a few seconds. It could have blown the cover stories we were using and gotten Donovan into even more trouble than he was trying to get out of, but if he was going to go for it I was certainly not about to say no.

To Be Continued

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