Episode III:

Carly was still breathing hard and had tears on her face when, "oh, you're good," came in a deep booming voice from the other side of the bed. "Steph, aren't they good?" Carly could hear the sounds of the women righting themselves. "Hey, Steph, you oughta make them partners too."

Carly still hadn't moved, neither had Brenda, when they came to stand before her. She finally ventured to look at their faces, beaming with gratitude. She could barely keep from lunging at them.

"Did you, by any random chance, happen to leave a boat tied to the yacht?"

"Yeah," the black one chimed in. "Steph" wasn't nearly as enthusiastic. In fact she looked a bit like the color Brenda had modeled earlier.

"Idiots," she stood as she exclaimed.

"Morons," Brenda followed her.

Carly and Brenda looked at one another, shook their heads and said, "amateurs," together.

"Oh, no honey-doll. We ain't no amateurs. We're professionals. Professionals in fugitive apprehension and bond enforcement."

"You mean like bounty hunters?"

The white woman all in black exploded then. "Iam a bounty hunter, youdo the filing." Her face was all red and seemed to be pulsing.

"And occasionally drive...whenever your car meets with a fatal incident."

Carly watched the woman shake with rage and thought, somebody's had a bad day.

"If they hurt my Uncle Vinnie's boat we're dead so what does it matter who's a professional and who's a goddamned amateur?" She'd been yelling so loud Carly was afraid the guard would come back to make sure she and Brenda weren't in the throes of a double homicide.

"Geeze," the black woman said rolling her eyes. "Speaking of which, what makes youbetter than us?"

"Do you have any idea who she is," Carly angled her head at Brenda "She's the High Lady Grand Duchess of Yacht Issues and Intrigue. Go ahead Brenda," she nudge the woman with her elbow despite the wrath on Brenda's face. "Go on, tell them about the time you sunk a seventy-five foot yacht with a single flare gun."

Carly gloated while Brenda fumed. The white woman rubbed her temples and looked as if she was about to start rocking herself.

"Wow, you're even better than Steph here. All she ever kills is cars. Well, and people."

"I almost never shoot people." It sounded flat and automatic.

"Uh-hun." The black woman went back to looking at Carly and Brenda ponderously. "Ya know," she said after a moment, "you do kinda look familiar."

"Well," Brenda said preening as much as a woman in S&M cuffs can, "I wasthe Face of Deception. Now I have a modeling agency in Europe with all the top models."

"No," she said shaking her head, "that's not it."

"Look, it's been a lovely chit-chat but can we get down to business now?" Carly was impatient to rescue herself. That way when she had to confess the whole, sordid tale to Sonny she could at least say, "but look baby, I got myself out of it. Cleaned up my own mess. Like a big girl."

"She's right. We've got to think of a way out of this." She was no longer rubbing her head but she still looked slightly caged. And periodically placed a hand on her twitching left eye.

"Thanks, Steph," Carly said using the name the black girl had employed. "First, I think, is Tit-for-Tat. We've given you information and protected you. Now it's time for you to give in return." Carly jingled her Boinking Inc. issued bracelets and angled her body so that they were more visible. The black girl knelt down on the floor with her purse and, taking something out of it, went to work on the S&M shackles. "Thank you..."

"Lula."

"Thanks, now about the information... Steph..." Carly'd learned early from Edward and Sonny that open expectation could get you a lot of information for free.

"Stephanie, Stephanie Plum, bond enforcement agent," she said.

"Carly, shackled chick. Now—"

"Where are we?" Brenda cut in sounding desperate and looking more than a little spooked.

"Jersey," said Lula from the floor as Carly's bonds relinquished her wrists at last. Lula turned to Brenda's.

Brenda gasped, "what?"

"We're just a little way down the shore Brenda, relax," Carly said watching the woman wind tighter and tighter. "We're still in the states; it'll be easy to contact Sonny and have him get us the hell out of here." Carly didn't wantto call Sonny but she was prepared to take his worst just to get rid of Plum Juice Maniac #1.

"I can't be in Jersey." Brenda screwed her eyes shut and shook her head violently. "It's impossible. No. No. No. No Jersey. You're lying," she said, her eyes popping open to pin Lula.

"No lie, babe. Welcome to the garden state." She freed Brenda's wrists and stood. "Just breathe deep and you'll know you're in Jersey."

She whimpered, "you're not lying. Oh, God. Not New Jersey." She closed her eyes as if to pray. Carly thought she saw a tear on her lashes.

"Why not New Jersey?" Lula had obviously taken affront.

"It's... it's...it's...so...tacky," Brenda sobbed. Suddenly her wet eyes opened and she looked truly astonished. "Oh, God,...you're Jewish, aren't you?"

Carly's attention was glued to the two with lurid fascination. Like watching a car crash, or a train wreck or a building implode. You just couldn't look away. From her silence, Carly surmised, Stephanie had to be as enraptured by the impending doom as well.

"Tacky! Jewish! Are you blind?" Lula was revved up and knew exactly where she was going when she let go. Carly almost felt sorry for Plum-Juice Brenda. "Oh... girl. My ancestors were enslavedby your skinny, white, anglo-saxon, rich-bitch, lazy, flat, little ass' relatives." Lula took a breath. "We were forced to build this country and then had to fight just to be considered citizens who couldn't be bought or sold on a whim by yourpeople. And you, you snobby, dumb witch, come down here—to mystate—too hopped up on drugs you bought with money your family made off slave backs to even know where you are and are fuckin' stupid enough to call me a tacky Jew?"