Previous Chapter: He grinned, "I thought you told the cop that you'll spend all the time you want with me."

I scoffed, "You men are absolutely relentless."

"Training tomorrow. Be ready to go at six."

I opened my mouth to complain but before I could get the words out he was gone like a poof of smoke.

"Showoff," I stuck my tongue out.

CHAPTER 3

"Uh, hello? Anybody here?" I asked looking around the bond's office.

"Yeah, behind here," a woman with a thick Jersey accent spoke behind a massive stack of files.

I peeked around the files and waved at a big-haired, well-endowed petite woman, "Hey, Connie. I couldn't even see you behind this tower."

"No kidding! These files are consuming me. I can't file them fast enough. Let me know if you know of anybody interested in a low paying crappy file clerk job."

"Well, when you put it that way, I'm surprised they're not beating down the door to get their application in," I laughed.

"I tell it like it is, so what's with you and Officer Hottie?"

I shrugged, "There's nothing going on."

"That's not what the Burg grapevine has been saying. Rumor has it that you two have been spending quite a bit of time with each other."

The Burg is a town that should be classified on its own apart from Trenton. The town's foundation is populated with strong Catholic Italian families whose gossip grapevine was as resilient as a bird determined to fly south for the winter. Think of it as the Stepford lifestyle of Jersey Italians — perfect little Italian families filled with imperfections behind closed doors.

"Well, we've had a few dinners together, nothing really serious. Anyways, do you have anything for me today?"

"Uh huh," she replied obviously not believing me. "I've got two for you. Stanley Pritchett for public urination and Bill Sizemore for dealing," she said handing me two files.

"Great. Thanks, Connie. I'll swing by before closing and help you out with some of the filing."

"You're a sweetheart," she smiled disappearing back behind the files.

I headed towards my new yellow Volkswagen Convertible Beetle. Ok, it was an old 1999 beater but it was new to me. It was a fun car that I splurged a bit after I collected my skip fee for bringing in Stratton a month ago. I had Connie split the ten thousand dollar fee in half between me and Ranger.

But after I deposited my five thousand dollar check into my bank account I noticed that there a mysterious five thousand was already deposited into my account. So I went ahead and paid my rent two months in advanced, purchased a used car, paid off all of my credit card balances that I racked up from being unemployed, and went on an insane shopping spree with Misty.

Now I'm ass broke again. How does one splurge through ten grand within a short four week span you may be asking. I'll sum it up for you in two words ‒ SHOE SALE. I will stand by the fact that I wasn't raised with the understanding of the value of a dollar and how to invest my money properly since I was orphaned at the age of ten.

I started thinking about the money that Suzie left for me. Honestly, Dickie was right. I could really use the money and Suzie's house was cozy. I wouldn't have to worry about how I would make the next month's rent anymore.

I shook my head, "No, Alyssa, stop being so selfish. You're doing the right thing. There are others that are more deserving than you."

I slipped into my car and cranked up the A/C immediately. Thank god for small upgrades from my last POS car. My last car, if you could call it that, was a rusty beat up Chevy Nova with a broken driver's side door that wouldn't open and busted A/C unit.

Not having access to an A/C unit during the Jersey heat wave was absolutely unbearable. But now the Nova was in car heaven after being shot up by Pinky, vandalized with the words Concha [Cunt] sprayed onto the side, and then finally blown up by Pinky along with my prized possession — my Salt 'n Pepa cassette tape that I managed to hold onto from my youth all these years.

This little incident made me a fifteen minute celebrity donning me the nickname of Bombshell Bounty Hunter. You'd think that nickname was compliment but it's more like an insult considering the car bombing wasn't my fault.

Before you knew it I was standing in front of a brown door labeled 404. Man, I need to stop running off on tangents in my own head. I didn't even recall how I got myself to Stanley Pritchett's apartment.

Before my hand connected with the cool steel of the apartment door, it swung open revealing a skinny potbellied white male with long stringy greasy gray hair and beard bearing a wide-gapped toothy grin in a single untied dirty white cotton robe with his shriveled up ding-a-ling flapping about freely.

I threw Pritchett an incredulous look and shouted, "What the fu—"

A stream of warm fluid hit my red chucks as Pritchett cackled madly. I jumped back realizing that he was pointing his little dickens straight at me and continued to relieve himself on my favorite pair of chucks.

I balled up my fist and charged after him, he retreated back into his apartment prancing merrily through his apartment relieving himself all over his apartment. This man had an amazing endless amount of liquids stored in his bladder and his apartment had a horrendous stench that could very well be classified as a gas chamber. I reached out to grab him as he tried to jump over the couch only to make matters worse because now I had managed to disrobe him.

"What the hell is your problem, you crazy old man!" I shouted after him as he dashed out the door and down the hall.

I pushed myself up off the couch giving myself some leverage to torpedo myself out the door after Pritchett. The urine had seeped through my shoes soaking my socks. My toes squished inside my dampened socks. I choked back the bile building up in my throat as I thought about my urine soaked shoes.

I slipped on a small puddle as I chased Pritchett out of the apartment. Sliding out the door as my feet were thrown from underneath me, I slammed into the wall across the hall as I fell to the ground. My arm was now soaking wet, dry heaved for a second before standing back up.

"When I get ahold of you old man, you're going to wish you could stay in jail!" I shouted after him his crazy cackling being drowned out by the closing elevator doors.

I took off down the stairs. My feet squishing deeper into the liquid filth with every connection my foot made against the hard cement steps. Sweat was dripping into my eyes causing them to sting, I couldn't wipe away the tears since my arms and hands were covered with urine. At this moment, I would give anything to be covered in garbage instead. My nostrils were filled with an unbelievable pungent smell which I was starting to realize was coming from me.

I reached the bottom of the stairs wheezing from exhaustion but continued to push on bolting out the front door. Taking long strides down the sidewalk, I gave chase after a very tiny, very white ass reflecting sunbeams off each cheek as it swayed back and forth down the sidewalk.

I was able to catch up with Pritchett on the account that he was barefoot running on the pavement that was hot enough to fry an egg. Tackling him down into the grass, he was able to wriggle out of my grasps. Despite the fact that he man weighed next to nothing, he was a slippery fellow.

"Hold still you crazy old man!" I grabbed him by the ankle and pulled him back down to the grass.

"You can't catch me! You can't catch me!" he recited repeatedly.

I tried climbing on top of him and cuffing him but he ended up slipping sliding away from me. I grabbed ahold of his legs and we rolled around on the ground and at some point his junk skimmed my face.

"Fuuucck! Ugghh!" I shouted trying to put distance between my face and Pritchett's leaky faucet. Thank God I didn't have a big breakfast or I would've lost it all right there and then.

Pritchett rolled over on his stomach jumped up and body slammed him down to the ground. Bright red and blue flashes of light caught the corners of my eyes. I struggled with Pritchett as he squirmed around and we continued to roll around in the grass.

A grinning handsome medium built officer stepped out of the driver side followed by a stocky black man closely behind. "Ma'am you know this kind of kinky stuff should be done in the privacy of your home, not in broad daylight in the middle of a nice neighborhood," a handsome officer smiled.

"Why, Officer Costanza," I huffed stumbling to my feet, "what brings you out to this neck of the woods?"

Carl grinned at me and looked down at Pritchett, "Looks like you could you use a hand."

I stomped my foot down on Pritchett's back as he tried to crawling away, "It's nothing that I can't handle."

He stepped forward and quickly retracted as his smile quickly slid off of his face. "Good God, Alyssa! What the hell is that smell," he grimaced shielding his nose and mouth with his forearm.

"Uh, that would be me," I replied sheepishly.

Car's partner, Big Dog. yanked Pritchett to his feet and cuffed him as a stream of urine shot out just short of Carl's feet.

"Whoa! What the fuck!" Big Dog barked out. No pun intended.

"Yeah, he's a squirter," I replied dryly.

"Well, that certainly explains the smell. Make sure you lay down some newspaper in the back before setting his nasty ass down on the seat back there," Carl instructed Big Dog.

"So you never told me what brought you out here," I pressed.

"We got a couple of anonymous calls that some crazy tiny Asian girl was chasing a naked man down Kelsey Avenue. Considering that there aren't that many crazy Asian girls roaming around this town. Big Dog and I couldn't miss out on an opportunity to see the Bombshell Bounty Hunter in action."

"Ha ha. Very funny, Carl," I replied sarcastically sticking my tongue out at him. "I'm in my right mind to walk over there and give you a big bear hug just to rub some the action off on you."

Carl Costanza was an old college acquaintance of mine and a callous flirt. We took a few classes together and frequented a number of parties during our four year tenure at The College of New Jersey. Carl helped me get through my Business Law classes. After graduation, we went our separate ways. Years later as fate placed me into my new career as a Bounty Hunter and Carl's career path steered him towards law enforcement finding ourselves back in each other's lives once again.

Carl stepped back hands up in the air as if he was surrendering, "You know, Bombshell, any other day, I would jump at the opportunity have you rub up against me. But I think I'll have to pass this time around. I have to say seeing you roll around on the ground was hot though, next time try replacing the naked old man with a buxom young blond," he winked.

"Yeah, I'll take that into consideration next time, Carl," I rolled my eyes partially at his crude sense of humor and partly for his constant reference to my infamous nickname. You have one car blow up on you and suddenly you're labeled as the "Bombshell Bounty Hunter." "Well, as much as I'd love to continue this conversation with you. Standing out in the baking sun is not helping my cause, so I best be moving along," I gave him a two fingered salute.

"Sure thing, Alyssa, I'll see you around real soon," he smiled handing me my body receipt.

"Yep, see ya," I trotted towards my yellow bug which now will be a constant reminder of the color of urine.

"Hey, Bomber, you might want to lay this down in your car before you get in it," Big Dog said handing me a blanket along with a canister of wet wipes and bottle of water from the back of the squad car.

"Thanks, Big Dog."

I grimaced and began wiping myself down as thoroughly as I could only causing myself to now smell like lemon scented urine. I laid the blanket down on the seat before sliding into the car and immediately put the top down. As much as I would love to go after my next skip, I realized I couldn't stand the smell of me any longer so a quick stop home was going to have to be my next destination.

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Ok so I couldn't help myself. I was a girl with extreme tenacity who couldn't help but work with efficiency. Cluck in a Bucket on Harmon Street was on the way back to my apartment and I couldn't help but stroll by to see if the next skip, Bill Sizemore, was working.

His listed part-time occupation was Cluck in a Bucket's mascot, Cluckie. I did a slow roll by Cluck in the Bucket.

Bingo!

I pulled the car over and walked casually over to the big yellow chicken that looked like it was on steroids with bulging biceps holding a sign that read: Size does matter ‒ Especially when it's about the Bucket.

"Bill Sizemore?"

"Yeah, that's me."

"Great, I'm Alyssa Chau."

"What can I do for you, Baby? You came here for a little somethin' somethin'?" he flirted.

"Really? You're going to flirt with me while you're in a Chicken suit?"

"I tell you what, some ladies get turned on by the costume—" he abruptly stopped speaking. "—Whew! What's that smell?" the chicken took a step back and fanned himself with the sign.

"You work at a fried chicken joint and stand outside all day next to an alley filled with garbage and bums and you have a problem with the way I smell?" I shook my head in amazement.

"Well, Baby, I could forget the way you smell if you'd like to give me your number so I can give you a holla tonight."

"You're incredible," I shook my head in disdain.

"I've been told that on many occasions."

"Anyways, I'm a Bond Enforcement Agent and I've been sent here by your Bondsman Vinnie Plum. You missed your court date, and I'm here to—"

A flurry of yellow feathers pelted into me knocking me into a parked car setting off the alarm.

"Hey!" I shouted over the alarm after Sizemore over the car alarm. Shit! I didn't want to run after him. I was exhausted from chasing down the old peebag and with my stench reaching an all-time record from the unbearable humid summer heat, it was beginning to become unbearable. Besides, Sizemore was young nineteen year old buck. He was probably already half way to China. I would've never been able to catch up with him.

I stopped and looked down on the sidewalk and picked up a handful of flyers. Hey, I might as well reap the benefits for the day I was having. Those coupons are valuable to a gal on a budget. You can't beat a buy one get one free Cluck in a Bucket deal.

"Babe, how are you going to chase down skips you can't keep up?" Ranger's voice popped in my head.

"Fucking, Prick," I muttered. I hate it when he's right.