I’m Fixin’ To Play Dead (Part 54)

The words that came out of Sissy’s beautiful mouth were like a lifeline to a drowning man, like bread to a starving man, the words that I was once again to be among the living with a driver’s license, a social security card and a credit card. It meant I could emerge from the shadow under which I had been existing since I survived that plane crash in Birmingham, and been playing dead.

Even though I knew the license and the social security numbers would be fake, and under a real dead man’s name, I trusted Sissy enough that I was confident they would do the trick, and that now I would be able to freely travel to anywhere I desired to without hiding in damp ditches and dank trailers.

In my stunned and ecstatic state I asked Sissy, “Who-who-who is Bobby?”

Without any hesitation, as she busied herself refreshing our coffee she replied, “Bobby Brooks is my manager, has been for over 10 years. He has a lot of connections and with his advice and what the good Lord gave me, I got where I am today.”

Almost spontaneously I uttered, “The Lord sure was good to you.”

Sissy giggled before she said, “Come on, let’s get ready, it’s about time to go.”

It was semi-dark and smoky when we walked into the underground strip club. I had imagined all sorts of situations for Sissy to be in, and I must admit this had been one of them. But before I could really absorb any of the atmosphere of the place I felt Sissy tugging on my sleeve as she whispered in my ear, “Come on, let’s go in the back and find Bobby.”

After we went through a door at the end of the bar we proceeded down a narrow hallway, came to another door where Sissy knocked and called out, “Bobby, are you in there?”

A muted voice from beyond the door answered, “Come on in, it’s open.”

When the door closed behind us the thumping sound of the music and the seediness of everything outside of it were gone. Soft classical music flowed across the room, which was adorned with rich carpet on the floor and hand painted art on the walls.

Behind a beautiful mahogany desk sat a dapper little man who looked to be about 65 years old, wearing a brilliantly white shirt, a red tie and a blue blazer. He could have passed as the president of a bank or the CEO of a brokerage firm. As soon as the door closed behind us he was up and around the desk saying, “Sissy, my star,” just before they pecked each other on the cheek.

Turning toward me he extended his hand and said, “And you must be, judging from the photo, Mister Ralph T. Cooper. It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. Any friend of Sissy’s is a friend of mine.”

“Uh, nice to meet you, too Mister Brooks,” I managed to say.

“Well,” Bobby said as he returned to his seat behind the desk, “I believe we have some business to conduct.” As soon as he was seated he pulled out a drawer of the desk and extracted a large brown envelope, slid it across toward me saying, “See if these meet with your approval.

While he and Sissy looked on I unceremoniously ripped the envelope open and pulled out two cards. When I examined the first one it occurred to me that it looked exactly like a real social security card. At the top center of it was the blue seal of the USA Department of Health Education and Welfare, along with the two pillars on each side. The second one was an Alabama Driver’s License in the name of Ralph T. Cooper and with my picture and Sissy’s address on it.

I was stunned, mesmerized and hypnotized all at the same time. While I sat there staring at the two items I hadn’t realized I had missed so very much, I felt a gentle kick on my calf from Sissy, who whispered, “Pay him!”

While Bobby was asking if I liked what I saw I peeled off 10 fifty-dollar bills and placed them on his desk and said, “Yes sir, they are indeed lovely to behold, and that money is a mere token of my gratitude.”

And that was it, Bobby scooped up the cash and escorted us to his office door where he hugged Sissy and shook my hand before he said good-bye.

We were back on the expressway driving toward home when Sissy said, “The next two things on our agenda is to put your money in a safe place and get you a credit card at the same time. Then we have to do something about Louise.”

I told her I didn’t see anyway of getting Louise out of the mess she was in other than revealing who I really was and that I wasn’t dead after all.

“No, you don’t have to do that,” Sissy replied. “I have an idea. There’s fixing to be another way.”