The Greatest Lie Part 5

"Allie, enjoy your new home/office. You are my favorite student." He had had his cleaning lady make up the bed, stock the refrigerator (OK, I know you can’t live on Pellegrino, but you can’t live without it either!) There were even some feminine soaps, shampoos, and towels in the bathroom. I freshened up, put a handful of handbills in my purse, and headed toward a corner where the T-Girls ruled the sidewalks.

Four sequined and gossamered figures arched their backs, pointed their silicone boobs and pirouetted to the passing traffic, in exaggerated, provocative poses. I approached a pouty-faced Asian girl, and asked, "Hi, do you remember me?"

"No bitch, who you?"

"Friend of Daylene’s."

"You mean the dead girl, you dead girl friend?"

"Yes. I hung out with her last summer."

"You work street with dead girl? Now you want work street with me?"

"Maybe later. Right now I want to help make the street safer for everyone." I handed her a handbill. She crumpled it up.

I looked hurt, and she looked at me angrily. "I no read your paper. I work now."

"I just wanted to invite you to a memorial service for Daylene. There will be some college kids there who want to help you with police, work and landlord hassles. And it will be a pace to meet others like us in safety."

"Don’t want college kid help. Don’t want your help." Just then a car slowed down and a passenger window rolled down. I retreated to the shadows. I recognized the forest green Suburban. It was old Mr. Country Music, and Garth Brooks was still playing on his stereo. After a hurried conversation, the Asian girl got in and they drove off.

I handed out handbills to the other three girls who were working that block of Hennepin. They were pleasantly surprised that college kids were taking an interest in their lives. "I’m a college T girl, you know. Not all college kids are football players and cheerleaders."