Das Girl ohne Namen
Excerpt
"Man, I've heard of the standard options like A/C and cruise control. But I've never heard of a girl in the trunk before!" The redhead shouted. His badge read "Skip Flannagan." He was about the same height and age as his friend, about eighteen. But his bright orange freckles made him seem years younger somehow. Maybe it was just that he acted less serious.
"What's goin' on?" The garage boss came thundering over to where the two guys were standing. "Are you boys tryin' to fool around with girls at work?"
Old Man McDirk glared at me with intense, beady brown eyes. He was a short, squat little man with a balding head and squirrel-like, puffy cheeks.
"Honest, we just opened the trunk. There she was!" The one named Skip proclaimed with a broad, sweeping gesture.
"What do you think you're doing?" Old Man McDirk accosted me. "Are you some expensive call girl who decided to do some hitchhiking? I don't know what else you could be in that get up. Nobody around town here dresses like that!"
He looked me up and down with a snort of disgust.
I looked down at myself for the first time. I was wearing a dirty and torn shimmery purple lace dress of about knee length. There were pearls sewn into the material around the neckline and the waist. On my legs were ripped nylon stockings. I was not wearing any shoes. But on my arm was clasped a diamond bracelet. A matching necklace dangled from my neck. My hands were covered with diamond and pearl rings in gold settings.
"Just who are you anyway?" Old Man McDirk moved closer to me.
"I . . . ah . . . " I thought hard. I wrinkled my brow in concentration. I honestly could not remember who was.
"Man, I've heard of the standard options like A/C and cruise control. But I've never heard of a girl in the trunk before!" The redhead shouted. His badge read "Skip Flannagan." He was about the same height and age as his friend, about eighteen. But his bright orange freckles made him seem years younger somehow. Maybe it was just that he acted less serious.
"What's goin' on?" The garage boss came thundering over to where the two guys were standing. "Are you boys tryin' to fool around with girls at work?"
Old Man McDirk glared at me with intense, beady brown eyes. He was a short, squat little man with a balding head and squirrel-like, puffy cheeks.
"Honest, we just opened the trunk. There she was!" The one named Skip proclaimed with a broad, sweeping gesture.
"What do you think you're doing?" Old Man McDirk accosted me. "Are you some expensive call girl who decided to do some hitchhiking? I don't know what else you could be in that get up. Nobody around town here dresses like that!"
He looked me up and down with a snort of disgust.
I looked down at myself for the first time. I was wearing a dirty and torn shimmery purple lace dress of about knee length. There were pearls sewn into the material around the neckline and the waist. On my legs were ripped nylon stockings. I was not wearing any shoes. But on my arm was clasped a diamond bracelet. A matching necklace dangled from my neck. My hands were covered with diamond and pearl rings in gold settings.
"Just who are you anyway?" Old Man McDirk moved closer to me.
"I . . . ah . . . " I thought hard. I wrinkled my brow in concentration. I honestly could not remember who was.
