Foxy Valentine's Arc

Chapter 2 of 9

Foxy Valentine noticed the thin man that morning. He stood across the street, pretending to read a newspaper. He was there when she bought coffee. He was there when she turned the corner. Bald head. White tank top. He moved like a shadow that had learned to walk. She knew Bad Mamma Jamma had sent him. If she led him to the disco ball, he would grab it first. Foxy ducked into a phone booth and called the one person who could help. Pinky La Fae answered on the first ring. Pinky ran a dress shop and had helped Foxy dodge trouble a dozen times. She was loud, blonde, and dressed head to toe in pink glitter. Nobody ever remembered the mark when Pinky walked in the room. "I've got a tail," Foxy said. "Tall, skinny, bald. Following me since sunup." "Oh honey," Pinky said. "Then let's give the poor man a show." They met on a busy corner an hour later. Foxy spotted the goon leaning by a lamppost. She whispered the plan. Then she walked slow, letting him keep pace, letting him think he had her. Pinky went to work. She strutted straight at the thin man, arms wide, glitter catching every light. "Jenkins MaGee!" she cried. "Baby, it IS you!" She threw her arms around his bony shoulders. He froze, stiff as a board. "Lady, I don't know you," Jenkins said. He tried to step back. Pinky held tight. "Don't play shy now," Pinky said. She spun him in a circle, laughing loud. A crowd gathered to watch the glittery woman dance with the confused stranger. Jenkins twisted his head, searching for Foxy. But Foxy was already gone. She slipped through the crowd, cut down a narrow alley, and doubled back twice. By the time Pinky finally let Jenkins go, Foxy stood two blocks away, alone and free. Jenkins stumbled onto the empty sidewalk. No Foxy. No trail. He wiped glitter off his tank top and knew his boss would not forgive this. Foxy met Pinky behind the dress shop. They laughed until they had to sit down. "He'll tell Mamma Jamma he lost me," Foxy said. "Now nobody knows where I'm headed." "So where ARE we headed?" Pinky asked. Foxy's smile faded a little. "To the man who's had the disco ball for ten years. And he doesn't give up treasures easy." She pulled a folded photograph from her red pocket and showed Pinky a grand old ballroom. "He owes me nothing. That's the problem." Pinky looked at the photo, then at Foxy. "Then we better bring more than charm." Foxy stood and brushed the glitter off her red pants. She had shaken the goon. But shaking a tail was the easy part. Now she had to convince a stubborn old collector to hand over the one thing that could give every outcast in Funkytown a home.