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Authors: Margo Bond Collins
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followed, digging a t-shirt out of the bag he was carrying. Once we were inside my apartment, he grabbed the shirt by its shoulders and shook it out.
“Voila!” he said, grinning.
The t-shirt itself was an unremarkable blue. On the upper left side of the front, however, it had a small round logo with a red apple and the words “Big Apple Citywide Cleaning Service” around it. He turned the shirt around to show me a bigger image of the logo on the back.
“I’m impressed.”
“You should be.” He grinned.
“So? Let’s see the website.”
He sat down at the desk and I stood behind him, leaning over his shoulder. I could smell his aftershave—a light, clean, slightly spicy scent.
The website he pulled up was impressively professional-looking.
“So when do we get going with this?” I was almost afraid to hear his answer.
“All we need are the phones. I’ll drop the flyer with the coupon off at the office and see what I can do to sell them on the idea of a free cleaning.”
“What if it doesn’t work?” I could feel my stomach tightening with anxiety.
“We’ll deal with it if it happens.” He put his hand on my shoulder.
* * *
Cell phone stores have proliferated in the Bronx in the last few decades. There’s one or two on virtually every block; we went to one on Fordham Road next to one of the ubiquitous jewelry stores. Getting a “business” cell phone is remarkably easy.
We were ready for The Sting.
At 2:00 that afternoon, Malcolm left for the city dressed in his new Big Apple Citywide t-shirt and carrying a stack of coupons for a free cleaning. He also carried a battered-looking calendar book that we’d spent part of the night before filling up with “appointments” for Citywide’s services.
I stayed at home with my new cell phone in my hand, pacing around my one room like a caged animal.
I checked over the blueprints again and again. By 5:00, I had almost chewed a hole in my bottom lip worrying about Malcolm. By 6:00, I was certain he’d been caught in his lie and that he was either in jail or had been fed to a group of hungry vampires.
When the cell phone rang at 6:20, I jumped straight up into the air. Breathless, I punched at the keypad wildly before finding the right button. Then I froze, forgetting for a moment what I was supposed to say. Oh. Wait. Right. “Big Apple Citywide. How may I help you?”
“Elle! They went for it! We’re on for Sunday.” Malcolm sounded elated. “I’m on the train right now. I’ll be there in half an hour. We can…”
The line fuzzed and went dead. The train had probably moved him out-of-area, but I immediately thought of all the worst possibilities: vampires had found him, lawyers had gotten him, he’d fallen out of an open window and onto the track below. Okay. That last one was a bit farfetched, I realized, and started to calm down.
By the time Malcolm arrived, I had stopped pacing and was waiting at the door.
“So? How did you manage it?” I asked.
“Easy. I talked to the head secretary. That’s the secret to any business—the secretaries are always in charge, even if the people who own the business don’t realize it.”
“The main secretary? Sheila?”
Malcolm nodded.
“Oh, hell. Sheila knows me. She’s the one who helped Greg get settled in at the firm. I can’t go in on Sunday and talk to Sheila!”
“Don’t worry. I have some more ideas about how to disguise you.” He grinned at me in a way that looked suspiciously like a leer.
“What?”
“I’ll let you know later. In the meantime, let’s figure out where we need to concentrate our search Sunday night.” He sat down and began studying the blueprints as carefully as I had earlier in the day.
The law firm had agreed to let Big Apple Citywide in to clean their offices. Sunday. That gave me five days to consider everything that might go wrong.
I suspected that it was going to be an awfully long list.
Chapter 6
So how exactly does one spend the days
“Voila!” he said, grinning.
The t-shirt itself was an unremarkable blue. On the upper left side of the front, however, it had a small round logo with a red apple and the words “Big Apple Citywide Cleaning Service” around it. He turned the shirt around to show me a bigger image of the logo on the back.
“I’m impressed.”
“You should be.” He grinned.
“So? Let’s see the website.”
He sat down at the desk and I stood behind him, leaning over his shoulder. I could smell his aftershave—a light, clean, slightly spicy scent.
The website he pulled up was impressively professional-looking.
“So when do we get going with this?” I was almost afraid to hear his answer.
“All we need are the phones. I’ll drop the flyer with the coupon off at the office and see what I can do to sell them on the idea of a free cleaning.”
“What if it doesn’t work?” I could feel my stomach tightening with anxiety.
“We’ll deal with it if it happens.” He put his hand on my shoulder.
* * *
Cell phone stores have proliferated in the Bronx in the last few decades. There’s one or two on virtually every block; we went to one on Fordham Road next to one of the ubiquitous jewelry stores. Getting a “business” cell phone is remarkably easy.
We were ready for The Sting.
At 2:00 that afternoon, Malcolm left for the city dressed in his new Big Apple Citywide t-shirt and carrying a stack of coupons for a free cleaning. He also carried a battered-looking calendar book that we’d spent part of the night before filling up with “appointments” for Citywide’s services.
I stayed at home with my new cell phone in my hand, pacing around my one room like a caged animal.
I checked over the blueprints again and again. By 5:00, I had almost chewed a hole in my bottom lip worrying about Malcolm. By 6:00, I was certain he’d been caught in his lie and that he was either in jail or had been fed to a group of hungry vampires.
When the cell phone rang at 6:20, I jumped straight up into the air. Breathless, I punched at the keypad wildly before finding the right button. Then I froze, forgetting for a moment what I was supposed to say. Oh. Wait. Right. “Big Apple Citywide. How may I help you?”
“Elle! They went for it! We’re on for Sunday.” Malcolm sounded elated. “I’m on the train right now. I’ll be there in half an hour. We can…”
The line fuzzed and went dead. The train had probably moved him out-of-area, but I immediately thought of all the worst possibilities: vampires had found him, lawyers had gotten him, he’d fallen out of an open window and onto the track below. Okay. That last one was a bit farfetched, I realized, and started to calm down.
By the time Malcolm arrived, I had stopped pacing and was waiting at the door.
“So? How did you manage it?” I asked.
“Easy. I talked to the head secretary. That’s the secret to any business—the secretaries are always in charge, even if the people who own the business don’t realize it.”
“The main secretary? Sheila?”
Malcolm nodded.
“Oh, hell. Sheila knows me. She’s the one who helped Greg get settled in at the firm. I can’t go in on Sunday and talk to Sheila!”
“Don’t worry. I have some more ideas about how to disguise you.” He grinned at me in a way that looked suspiciously like a leer.
“What?”
“I’ll let you know later. In the meantime, let’s figure out where we need to concentrate our search Sunday night.” He sat down and began studying the blueprints as carefully as I had earlier in the day.
The law firm had agreed to let Big Apple Citywide in to clean their offices. Sunday. That gave me five days to consider everything that might go wrong.
I suspected that it was going to be an awfully long list.
Chapter 6
So how exactly does one spend the days
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