December 2013

I had just come into contact with an old acquaintance I’ll call Katie after several years of no communication.  We used to get high together back when she was still in high school.  That and the fact that her father is/was a priest always made me smile.

Although we were never romantically involved, I spent time with her, teaching her the proper ways of my little-known side job.  There used to be only two ways to do things.  The right way, or the way that could get you killed by Mexicans or bikers.  I taught her the right way.  Little did I know that would all come into play 8 years later.

Katie had recently cut off her ankle bracelet and become a fugitive.  My kind of girl.  We hooked up on Facebook and started talking on the phone.  I wasn’t interested in hiring at the time so I kept my business hidden, but she was fun to get high with.

I was bouncing around from hotel to hotel because I could afford to, and because it wasn’t safe to stay in one place more than 2 nights.

[ANNE: I did the math and reckoned Katie was around 10 years younger than Vince. No saint, but I hoped I’d never run into her parents. Not for the first time, I counted myself lucky to not have a daughter, because she probably would have turned out like Katie, with all the additional perils that came with being a young woman.]

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