CHLOIE: BAD TIPPING

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Tags: Frito Bandito, security guard, Holiday Inn, bribery, tips, The Dragon Lady, madam, pimping, pandering, Chloie, callgirl, hooker, stripper, sex worker, factotum, jarvis, viral video, marquisdejolie, Hollywood, Hollywoodland, prostitution, oldest profession

Tipping The Frito Bandito

“How ju like it?” an obviously Hispanic voice asked from just behind me, scaring the crap out of me.

I quickly hopped out of my car to face my interrogator, a pot-bellied hotel security guard whose undersized uniform shirt couldn’t quite make it all the way around his pregnant waist. He offered me a plunge into the bag of Fritos he was carrying.

“Driving the beautiful girls?” he grinned a silver-toothed Sierra Madre bandito grin, munching on the Fritos between grins. He must have seen Chloie. Too late to deny anything now.

“It’s alright.”

“Alright? Chingow. Ju want to trade jobs, man? I drive the beautiful girls and ju sit in this stinking (parking) garage all night.”

We stood there a few moments looking at each other, him munching his Fritos and me puffing my menthols. He was friendly enough, but I could tell something was agitating him.

After another moment he cleared his throat and asked, “Ju from L’Amour, si?” Stupidly I told him I was.

“Ju got the tip?”

“Tip?”

“Ju are new, eh?. The girls like to pay me tips, vato, but jure girl hit the elevator runnin’ when she saw me. . .”

“Yeah, I’m new, man, can you wait until I check in with the boss? Can I use the payphones in the lobby?”

It was a bluff. I thought my offer to call ‘the boss’ would back him off. I was not looking forward to calling the psychotic hotline and talking to that Dragon Lady again. I didn’t even know if I was allowed to call the boss. Then I realized I didn’t even know the phone number to the boss.

“Chure, man, I’ll watch jure car. Ju need some change the manager will give it to ju.”

“Thanks.” The manager was all smiles when I went in, heading for the phones. Guess he gets a cut of the action, I thought.

Searching my pockets for an imaginary scrap of paper with the boss’ phone number on it, I shrug.

“Ju forgot the number, vato?” my vigilant security guard asked, “Here. Here is the number.” He handed me a sheet of Holiday Inn stationary with a phone number scrawled across the top.