Change at Jamaica Station

Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Caroline's Night Games                                                  2018,    Valley Stream, NY, and Shirley NY

I'm as nervous as a pregnant nun in confession. I decide I should just wear all black and my sneakers. I rip off the blue/black flannel shirt that was Marks' and throw it in the corner where I discarded the last five things that didn't seem appropriate either. I really just want to text Tabby, my renewed confidant of late, "What does one wear to a late-night drug drop-off?" That would surely give us both a chuckle. As I dress, I imagine what Tabby would say in return:

"Black eyeliner but indigo mascara. Trucker hat with weed logo. Scuba tight jumpsuit in navy. A knife on your inner thigh and a slit skirt. Or play the innocent and wear your hippie skirt and a Beatles tee shirt with the sleeves cut off."

I've been working on developing a sneaky side. If I'm going to continue to work with John and make good money, I need to play the part. I sit on the end of the bed and take a deep breath, reminding myself that the car is in good condition, John just having replaced a dead battery. He didn't even charge me, even though he had the car for three days. He said he was too backed up to get to me sooner, so it was on the house.

I have never been anything but a little goody two shoes. I was the one that volunteered for the most charities on holidays and the most mundane clubs in school. I often sat in the back corner of the classroom, the gym, the cafeteria and read a book. Back then, I was the nerdy, quiet one but now I've got to be a little cleverer.

If Tabby were here...she would sound like Nancy Drew.

At least Nancy is closer to the image of sneaky sleuth than I've ever been, but she is as much of a nerd as I am. Nancy didn't have to pick anything clean cut looking from the church charity bin growing up. Tonight, I am going to have to be more resourceful than the charity bin to hide my inner straightness.

There is a chill in the air though spring is coming,  but I need to think practically about being warm and perhaps not being so visible and vulnerable looking. Meeting John somewhere off the Southern State Parkway in Suffolk County, at least an hour away, didn't seem frightening when we discussed it. John was direct and clear and made it sound easy. At first.

Originally, he told me to meet Tuesday night, around six, which would still be daylight hours, as he had to get off work, then drop his daughter off at an event. Then he called this afternoon and said he wouldn't be able to meet until 11, because he now had to pick his daughter up after the event. He says 'delivering groceries', as if we still work for the local food pantry, or are part of the 'shop local, and support the Long Island Farmers Association', but it has been a while since he and I have delivered any organic vegetables from the co-op.

"Seven o'clock at the station. Ten tomorrow morn' at the shop. One pm at the Store." I can hear his voice and directions in my head even when I'm sleeping. The past two months, I only have gone to the Valley Stream train station, the Tri Auto Body Shop, where he works, or behind the CVS, in the back-parking lot. Going out to Suffolk County is definitely expanding John's outreach, and we've been on a roll, so the new efficiency makes it more of a business relationship. I tell myself I'm not his friend. No problem.

I put on the sunglasses I have started to wear all the time, then think again about the sunglasses at night, and return them to the side table. I go over what John told me the plan was for the millionth time.

"OK, leave by 9:30 to be safe and be there by 11, no later. Make sure you have enough gas. Once you're off the Southern State Parkway at the Shirley exit, stay on the service road for a mile till you see the truck pull off, like a big parking lot. Then turn off your headlights." John instructed. I've never been to Shirley before, with or without John.