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"Good idea! I'll drop by on my walk, ask her."
"She OK with hot food?"
Greg laughed. "Yup. Vietnamese, since she was a teenager, hot as they can make it!"
Ok that was one more thing about Nick that made her cool. She was winning the cool contest by a big margin!
"I like Nick." Just putting that out there.
Greg nodded. "She's real."
That was pretty much my take too.
"She got a... girlfriend?" I don't know why I stumbled over that; I was cool with Nick being a dyke. She could do no wrong in my view. Old habit.
Greg considered. "Not my place to gossip about Nick's love life. She and Kelly room at the same place, good friends, I think. Nick and Khang went out once, we saw them at that club. That's all I know!"
Greg eyed me. "You interested? She's..."
I colored. "Too old for me; I know! Just curious. This stuff is new to me! I'm trying to be all open and shit, it's gonna take time to unstick all the hangups I was handed growing up."
Greg looked like he approved. Didn't say anything more, didn't lecture me because Greg doesn't tell women how to think. Only guy I ever met like that. So far.
I tossed down the rest of my tea and left Greg to finish the pot.
Things to do!
My last half-dozen cards took only a minute to get rid of, our immediate neighbors in the condos along the shore. Then off to the print shop.
On my bike it was a breeze, just like five minutes to cover eight or nine blocks.
Shop open, lights on, door standing blocked open. Inside it was clear why: hot as fuck, air conditioning on the blink.
All those machines made it heat up quick, I guess.
The mute guy was behind the counter, shirtless! Kind of startled me. Guys went shirtless back home all the time, but usually outside. Never in a store! One more hangup to unstick, I guess.
Looked weird, his tats went all the way up his arms, on his chest and back. Not sure what they were supposed to be, all wavy and psychedelic.
"I need more of my cards!" Straight to the point, he wasn't gonna chat, that's for sure.
He dug in a cubby, came out with my ad master copy. Remembered me! Not as dim as he seemed.
He looked at me, like he was expecting something. Oh.
"A gross should do." That was a dozen dozen, 144 cards. Might as well buy ahead, that many would do for a couple trips at least.
He poked at his machine, no longer interested in me. Still, I tried; I'm a sucker for lost causes.
"So, the AC is off? Sucks. When did they say they could come fix it?"
He looked up, startled. Hadn't occurred to him to call somebody? What, he was hoping it would just fix itself?
"I don't know an HV/AC guy; probably have to check the yellow pages!"
Just being helpful; he seemed to appreciate it, gave me a nod anyway. A response! There was some kind of human intelligence in there, somewhere.
He held up three fingers.
"Three hours? Oh, machines on the blink, overheated?"
He nodded.
So, now what? Long lunch, then waste some time, then back for the cards, then more canvassing. Maybe cross the river, I was halfway there already. Open up a new market? A different demographic!
Hope Greg is having a more productive day.
...
Greg
Bank, groceries, Khang's shop. Invite Nick!
Clearly, groceries last, don't want anything spoiling. Don't want to lug all that around either.
So, bank first. Stuff pockets with the remaining couple cash rolls. Fishbowl? There was a pile in there, nearly two grand, all twenties. That drug drop gone wrong. Would make at least one more roll.
Didn't take long, I could just keep rolling until I counted fifty. Didn't have to keep track very well; just recount whenever I wanted. Sometimes this ability made me lazy.
That done, wash my hands (who knows what was on those bills?), drink and pee and I'm on the road!
Only a block or two, the sun high and with cool air I still get hot, thinking about Billie and her bike.
Maybe I need a bike! Without a way of carrying stuff, not as useful for me. I'll ask Khang what she thinks.
Downtown is calm, quiet, lunchtime and folks all chowing down. Not hungry, been overeating, taking Billie to eat more than Jillian usually wanted to. Not so fun to eat by yourself. I'd done it for a decade; I was done with that pretty much.
Bank had a single teller window open, lunch hour, he smiled when he saw me, familiar face but I don't remember the name.
Badge says Mike so I say "Hi Mike! I have another deposit today."
He's got a tray ready; I empty my pockets, he goes to the counting-machine against the wall, starts unrolling and feeding them in. All familiar, I've done this for years.
My VP comes over, never misses a chance to chat up the big depositor.
"Mr. Gregory! Good to see you! Any time you want to talk CDs, let me know!"
He'd like me to put my savings into more interesting instruments. Probably a good idea, sometime.
"Have you seen the activity across the river?" He took an interest in historical buildings and town history; we'd bonded over that before.
"Sierra Club! The City has recognized their claim, some old will!" I knew more than that but wanted to hear what he had to say.
"Isn't that curious, an old will reappearing after all this time..." He left room for me to comment, just smile and nod!
"They're finding all sorts of interesting stuff, history-wise and value-wise! Artworks, furniture! Even the simple things, fittings and fixtures, paperweights, cutlery, crockery! An old pen - Mont Blanc Pelikan, German, post-war! A thousand items. Like a time-capsule, untouched, fifty years or more!"
"What do you suppose they'll do with all that?" Toss it, as far as I was concerned. Old out-of-date stuff.
"The bank was consulted on a project to redevelop the lot. The old building is irredeemable, nothing to modern code, dangerous. Teardown I'm afraid! Then a park, Richardson Park! The last owner, it was their will gave the building to the Sierra Club! Native grasses, wetlands perhaps. A history center is suggested on the site, we'll see."
That all sounded fine to me. I'd thought most of the old dusty stuff uninteresting, but I knew there were collectors for every facet of history - pens, paperweights, even old dishes held fascination for somebody!
"Any news on cars? An old newspaper I read once, mentioned a parking garage under the building."
"Yes! They dug out the old ramp, the garage was completely intact. A Royce limo! A famous model! And some other cars, a taxicab and an ambulance, less interesting. Except to history buffs like us."
My teller handed me my receipt; I kept it out of habit, to put in a stack in a drawer I'd never look at.
The VP smiled; "My tellers are often curious about your deposits. Stacks of old bills! No date more recent than twenty years ago!"
Not going to bite on that one. "I'm glad I can make their day more interesting!" He smiled, let it go. Not going to probe more deeply, lest he annoy a good customer.
"Thank you again, Mr. Gregory! Again, let's talk about CDs when you have a moment."
That could be a conversation for Jillian! "I would like that. May I nominate Jillian, my, um, girlfriend? I'd prefer her to manage these accounts in future."
He looked hesitant, ready to counsel caution in cases of girlfriends. But he could see I was serious and would brook no advice on this point.
"Yes, if you could bring her in, cosign with her on the accounts, we could certainly talk with Miss Jillian."
"We could manage that Saturday? She works weekdays of course."
That also tripped him up, a brief wrinkling of the brow; why did my girlfriend work, when I had mad stacks on account? Well, none of his business.
"I can have a teller prepare the paperwork, ready for you whenever you find it convenient."
That business complete, off to Khang's for my new dress shirt! This was going to be the fun part.
Khang wasn't there when I arrived, the shop closed with a sign on the door - "Out Temporary". Well, that was stilted but perfectly clear.
Glancing around the building I saw her in Phuong's apartment, dishing up some mess of vegetables and beans, something Vietnamese, I'm sure. Set his table; served up a generous portion. Seated him, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek!
And back through the building, into the shop and Flip! the sign now said Open!
"Gregory! Come in, I have to fit you!"
That was worrisome; I'd thought all the fitting was done.
She led me by the hand to the back room, stood me at attention, put my arms out.
The shirt was linen, which creases something awful. She was careful to drape it over my shoulders, the sleeves not yet attached.
Snugging it around my middle, she paused, looked up at me, frowned.
"I knew it! You've been eating!"
I was astonished. "I shouldn't eat?"
A snort. "Not like this. I can fix it; give me a minute."
She whipped it off, did something violent with a seam ripper, went to a machine with what looked like the tatters of a shirt. The engine whined like a turbine once, twice. She returned, tried it all again.
"I left the selvage; I knew you would do that! Jillian is over-feeding you! All that takeout!"
"Will it be done by Sunday? That's the day..."
"Yes! It will be done in a minute! Stop wiggling!" She held a pin, looked ready to stab me. I froze, let her finish.
The sleeves were on the table, got attached, removed, re-attached. Satisfied, she stripped it off me, took it back to the machine. Did something clever with an attachment, the sleeves slipped over a part and whirrr! attached with a curious twisting motion.
Back on me, some tugging, rotating, and Khang was satisfied.
"It will look right with my wool jacket?" I was uncertain about linen, which is why I trusted Khang with all my clothing decisions.
"It will look like shit with your wool jacket! That's why I made this jacket." She whipped some cotton thing off a dummy, got me into it.
There were no buttons on the front; she held it closed, marked it with a fabric marker. Took it off, sat on the stool, picked up a strange, curved needle already threaded, began whipping on a black button.
"So, you propose Sunday? Hurry up! I almost spilled the beans, twice! You're taking too long!" She pointed the needle at me for emphasis.
It was Khang who couldn't have the shirt done before; I felt ill-used. But my firm policy is, never contradict someone holding a sharp object.
"I promise! No more delays! I want this as much as you do!"
She raised an eyebrow; pretty sure I was not right. Anyway. Resume fastening my jacket buttons.
"Oh! A bike! What do you think? What kind of bike should I get?"
She looked at me like I was crazy. "One with a back seat and an engine."
"No, really! Billie has one, and it's great. She can zip around town, get ten times as much done!"
"How would you carry anything? Where would Jilly sit? Would you make Jilly get on one too?!" She seemed scandalized by the idea.
All good questions. "Just for me, for errands? Maybe a trailer thing, I see parents pulling kids around in a sort of pod that rolls behind...I could carry stuff in that."
She didn't dignify my notions with a comment, continued pulling stitches.
Casting my eye around the room, I spotted a worn leather jacket on a rack covered with a sheet. Nick's jacket!
"Nick need some alteration?"
She looked at me blankly, then figured it out.
"No, I... we...pulled a seam. I'm gonna re-sew it." She blushed, looked down at her button.
Ah. Undressing frenzy during a date, the poor old jacket caught in up their passion. Understandable! Those two were both firecrackers, very physical, something had to give.
"Must take a special machine? Leather is so thick..." The popped seam was in a shoulder, the thickest place.
She didn't want to talk about it, clearly. But she picked up a horse-needle laid on the cutting table, showed it to me.
"Hand-sew it? Gonna be sore...I tried a leather sewing project back in Scouts, ended up with bloody fingers."
She snerked at that, imagining me trying to sew anything. Finished my buttons, got up and re-dressed me.
"Turn around."
I did as I was told, another policy of mine when dealing with family.
She looked critical, tugged here and there, then dismissed me.
"All done! Don't spill anything on it! Try not to get fatter by Sunday!"
She left me then, back to the front room to do whatever she did. I delayed, found her full-length mirror, looked myself over.
Two button jacket, a bit of lapel, light blue. Lightweight white linen shirt, button-down collar, cool and comfortable.
Pretty sharp! Jillian would out-shine me by about a thousand percent, which was kind of the plan. At least I was decent, not an embarrassment, looked like I was trying!
I found a hangar, put all that on it, re-dressed in my street clothes.
Out front Khang saw me leaving, glared, grabbed my hangar, pulled a wispy plastic bag from a drawer and whipped it over my new clothes in one smooth motion, handed it back.
"Thanks! Jillian is looking forward to Saturday night!"
She smiled at the thought but didn't spare me a word or even a glance.
My relationship with Khang sure was different now! Instead of respected customer, my accustomed role for years, what was I?
Sister's boyfriend! That explained it.
Now I was going to get my motivations scrutinized, my choices second-guessed. My character assassinated. Bullied and pushed around, in a sisterly way.
Nothing I couldn't handle. They were all worth it. It was nice to have anybody who cared what I did!
Out to the sidewalk and next stop - groceries.
Gonna think again about a bike, and maybe one of those trailers! I could pack a lot of groceries into that.
...
Billie
Gonna think twice about Indian food again. The flavors, so strong! Mysterious looking vegetable stews over rice, yards and yards of rice. Hot as blazes, that had been kind of ok.
Those pastries hadn't been too bad, Smosa? Something like that. Potato and peas, very familiar. Toasty brown crust, deep fried, yum. But even that had been dusted with some strange brown powder, salty, super-savory. Thinking I liked that, maybe.
And the dessert-thingy - a donut hole in perfume?
Take some getting used to. All in good time. Gotta try everything, become an adult woman who knew about things, could express preferences!
That pretty Indian lady had been nice. Her accent! Gorgeous! And those dark eyes - wow. So many different people here!
It was all ready so fast, they just had to dish it up, lunch took only a half-hour. Leaving what? Two and a half to burn.
The tea shop was down the street. No need: still had a bushel of tea leaves back at the condo.
Cross the river? Scope out the residential folk? Nah; wait until I have cards to distribute, no sense covering that ground twice.
Hopping on the bike, I drifted across downtown, traffic not bad, careful of pedestrians and parked cars. So many people! Kind of like that video game, Frogger? Don't get squished!
I could ask around here, see if business folks would post my card or set it by the register. That would work better if I'd done a job for them already, had a grateful client. Maybe later.
I'd try that thrift shop up the hill. They'd had a bulletin board full of business cards! I could ask to put mine up.
And the pet store! Just the place to advertise a lost-pet service.
Decided, I turned uphill, shifted down, pedaled hard. It was nice to exercise, really work. I'd been sitting and walking and eating but not really stretching any muscles for days.
It showed; they burned, twinged! Take it easy; don't want to go lame, that would put a big hole in my canvassing.
Not long and I was into the vacuum-cleaner-repair and body-shop part of town, small businesses, small budgets. Regular-folk stores and services.
This was more like it. My kind of people! Not much different from Idaho. Except for the super-fancy cars parked here and there. Folks with money weren't above getting a vacuum repaired.
I parked the bike in the rack out front, went into the pet shop, breathing hard.
"Hello! How are your puppies?"
The gentleman behind the counter was sweet. White hair, red face, kind of like Santa Claus.
"Puppies? Oh! No, I bought those dishes for my business!"
He looked interested. Rats! I don't have a card to show him. I should have kept one, as a sort of personal business card.
"I find lost pets! It's a service I provide."
That got him interested! A real pet guy, not just a flunky. Maybe this was his shop?
"That sounds very useful! If you like, you could leave something by the register? I could let folks know..."
Well, that was easy! I reached out, shook his hand, grinning.
"I'm having some cards printed up right now! I'll be back in a couple hours?"
He thought that sounded about right.
I stayed a bit, told my Snowball story, got a big smile out of him. He genuinely liked dogs it seemed, laughed at all the silly-doggy parts.
"Well, I'm gonna go see who else will maybe let me post my cards. Got time to kill; the copy shop AC is broke, some machines overheated? Anyway, that guy hadn't even called anybody. Just took his shirt off and propped the door open!"
Mr. Claus shook his head, tsked. "Mrs. Freedman used to own that place, retired. Employee bought her out, that skinny quiet guy? He's not half the businesswoman Mrs. Freedman was. The place is going to ruin."
That agreed with what I'd seen. "Maybe he just needs to learn the ropes?"
Santa shrugged. "Not sure he's trainable!" A little apologetic laugh.
I said goodbye, went down the street to the thrift store. Careful to park my bike beside the store, not in front, don't want anybody getting any ideas.
This lady was ok with my putting my card on the board, remembered me from buying the bike. Quick stop, in and out.
Why not try all the places? With walk-in traffic anyway. So I did.
Vacuum guy, spoke only a little English but once I made myself clear he was good with it.
Down an alley, soup place, waitress said Sure! but I'm not sure the boss would have agreed.
Furniture thrift store, nobody in there wanted to talk to me, their loss.
Heating and Air Conditioning! I got an idea. Dusty door, fogged glass with 'HV/AC - Keep your Cool!' in ancient letters stenciled on.
I went in, the door Banged! behind me on its stretchy spring, startled me.
Old guy sitting on a stool behind the counter, very old, grimaced.
"Sorry! I'll be more careful."
He nodded, stood carefully, gave me a Can I Help You? look.
I gave him my pitch, didn't have a card to show which annoyed him. He already had a few business cards by the register, I figured it was gonna be ok.
"I'll bring some by after the Copy Shop gets running again."
He perked up at that. "They had a breakdown?"
"A/C down, machines overheating. Poor guy running it has no idea what to do next."
He nodded. "Mrs. Freedman had us in there twice a year, maintenance. Clean the drip trays, the drain hoses. Check the gas, motors, fans, electronics. No trouble for years."
"Yeah, this guy is in over his head. I have an idea; if you were to just show up, he'd probably be grateful?"
The guy looked dubious.
"It's probably just a plugged drain, tripped some overflow switch? How long could it take."
He sighed. "Who is gonna pay our visit charge? We get there, he says no, we're out the cost of the trip."
I didn't think that guy would push back, he'd just accept the miracle, be glad to be back in business.
And his delay was costing me something. Who knows if he'd really have my cards in three hours, or even today.
"Tell you what. He kicks up a fuss, I'll be back later with my cards, you give me the bill for the wasted call." What could it be, about what I charged for one job? I reached out, ready to shake.
