Authors: J. Fields Jr.
“Unfortunately not.”
Max clapped.
“This is awesome!”
He swiveled to the side and kicked his feet up onto the couch.
“It’ll be like summer camp.
I mean, I’m guessing it will be like summer camp.
I never really went to one.”
He sat up suddenly.
“Did you ever go to summer camp?”
“Yes.
I was an Eagle Scout.”
“Can you teach me how to start a fire?”
“Not at the moment.”
“Tie a slip knot?”
“If today was a foreshadowing of what we have in store for tomorrow, we will both require sleep in order to recharge our wits.”
“You’re right.
As usual.”
Antonio retrieved a pillow, sheets and blanket from a closet in front of the office.
He helped Max pull out the sleeper bed and arrange the linens.
“It even smells like a villa in here,” said Max.
“The office is cleaned by the same staff.
There’s a small TV to the right of the armoire.
Would you like me to turn it on?”
Max removed his jacket and yanked his tie loose.
“Nah, I’m beat.
Tony?”
Antonio paused, unmoving.
“Antonio?”
“Yes, Max?”
“Do you think there’s really a chance that Shannon and I might…I don’t know, date or something?”
Antonio arranged the linens on the pull-out as carefully as he weighed his options for a response.
“Instead of an opinion, may I offer you some advice?”
“If it’s about the birds and bees, I already know.
A burlesque showgirl had a flipchart she showed me when I was ten.”
“
Shannon
is from a world that deals in hyper-reality.
I’ve been acquainted with many actors in my years of service.
Their profession requires short bursts of passionate emotion.
Their private lives have a tendency to follow suit.”
“So she might fall in love with me, and then yell
cut!”
“Time spent enjoying true emotion is never wasted.
But as with everything, we cannot control time.”
“So she might break my heart.”
“Or, she may mend it.”
Antonio placed the bottle of brandy back into the cabinet.
“I’m not sure if you’re giving me hope or warning me off.”
“I wouldn’t be as bold to do either when it comes to romance.
Fate has brought you together for a reason.
I’m simply suggesting that you enjoy the time you share with her.”
“I’m enjoying it so far.”
“Most excellent.
Is there anything I can get for you before you retire?”
“Can you grab a Snickers out of the hallway?”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Antonio’s BlackBerry hummed.
He looked at the screen, expecting to see an incoming call from Mark Ford, feeling it was certainly time for the pendulum to swing their way and allow the night to end with favorable news.
He was vividly wrong about both the caller and the pendulum.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ang Wang was back down on the roof.
Getting to the roof after descending wasn’t easy.
He’d actually had to shove off the wall and get his feet firmly onto the rooftop.
This took about three tries, meaning that when his feet slipped he fell backwards and slammed into the wall again.
But he had it, holy shit, he had the pic!
He wrestled out of all the climbing crap, tossing it aside, glad to be rid of it.
He went through the pics stored on his camera, practically drooling.
He wouldn’t have been surprised if he popped a boner, that’s how excited he was.
And rich.
He was gonna be so freaking rich.
He put the strap back around his neck and through his jacket he pressed the camera close to his heart, like a precious treasure.
He could practically feel his eyes twinkling in the moonlight.
Kami-fuckin-kazi!
He jogged over to the small roof access door.
He ducked back through, feeling the heat of the interior building and realizing he hadn’t thought of how cold it was outside since he’d begun climbing the rope.
He closed the door firmly behind him.
He wished he could be there when the tuxedo went outside and figured out how he’d gotten the picture from Shanndon’s balcony.
Maybe then he’d realize who he’d been trying to mess with.
Ang nearly frolicked through the rows of furniture.
The world was a happier, brighter place.
His whole life was about to change.
“Hey,” said the guy who was sitting in the velvet wingback chair, feet up on the leather ottoman, eating one of his SlimJims.
Ang Wang stared at him, feeling the smile melt away on his face.
“No speak Engrish.”
He began walking quickly away.
“Good idea,” said Mark Ford, not bothering to stand.
“There’s State Police outside in the hallway.
One of them speaks fluent Mandarin.”
Ang Wang halted in his tracks.
“Fuck.”
“Now that’s a language I can understand.”
Mark took another bite of his beef jerky.
“You wearing an Engineering uniform under there by any chance?”
“I’m not showing you anything.
I’m not saying anything.”
“Oh boy.”
Mark chewed his SlimJim thoughtfully, staring at Ang Wang.
“I been married five times.”
“Erectile dysfunction can be a bitch.”
“Good news is,” said Mark, “I learned something from every marriage.
Bad news is it was the same thing every time.
Know what it was?”
“You’re gay?”
“That I like being alone.
So now I’m all alone, except for my dog.
He’s leftover from my last marriage.”
Mark belched and thumped his chest.
“I hate SlimJims.”
“Am I in trouble or anything here?”
“Shut up,” said Mark.
“So this dog, he’s the perfect roommate, he’s only got one hang-up.
I don’t get home by 7pm he shits right in the middle of the living room floor.”
“So you gotta put him down, is basically what you’re saying.”
“What I’m saying is I got shit waiting for me when I get home.
Are you gonna give me shit right now?”
The camera hanging around Ang’s neck felt suddenly heavy and warm beneath his jacket.
It vibrated with the promise of wishes waiting to come true, like a genie lamp humming with energy.
Ang said, “I’m pretty sure I’m gonna give you shit.”
Mark Ford nodded and stood up slowly.
“I thought so.”
Ang took off at a run into the maze of furniture.
Mark spoke into his cuff mic.
“M1 to base.
I want an officer stationed outside the attic ASAP.
Also posted at the lobby level stairwell exits and elevators.
Contact surveillance for a picture of Asian suspect.”
He rattled off a quick physical description.
“Detain and contact me if found.”
He turned and addressed the labyrinth of furniture.
“Ready or not, here I come!”
From somewhere within Ang’s voice shouted back.
“You lied about the State Police!”
“I also lied about my marriages – it was six times,” he called back.
Ang sprinted down an aisle, took a few quick turns, and ran until he found himself in a far corner of the attic.
If nothing else, he could wait for an opportunity to get back to the roof access door and hide outside.
He stopped short and let himself into a caged area that was full of mattresses, careful not to let the metal squeak.
He wedged himself between two California King Pillow-Tops, and found a second row of what looked like twin-size mattresses.
Here he ducked and crawled into a triangular space created when a few mattresses had been removed, causing the two sides to pitch against each other like a castle made out of playing cards.
Mark Ford ambled among the rows of nightstands, occasionally stopping to bend over and look behind them.
“You know,” he said loudly.
“I used to be on the force.
Had suspects run all the time.
I was pretty good at finding them.
Wanna guess why?”
He paused, and took a turn that led to the back corner of the storage space.
“Because everybody that runs is in such a hurry they bump into stuff, knock things over.
They leave a trail that looks just like someone ran like hell from point A to point B.”
Mark continued walking.
“This concrete floor, for instance, is pretty dusty.
In fact, all this furniture is dusty.
Not like anyone comes up here and polishes the stuff in storage, ya know?”
He stopped.
“Yup, see right here is a hand print where you probably turned a corner pretty quick and reached out to steady yourself.
A natural thing to do.”
He kept walking.
“My nose is starting to tickle a little.
That means the dust that is usually lying around was disturbed, now it’s all floating in the air.”
He sneezed robustly.
“Oh yea, you’re around here somewhere.”
Mark paused, cocked his head to the side.
“I think I heard you just now.
Shift your weight just a little?
Getting braced to take off running again?”
Mark was startled as a man toppled out from between a row of stacked patio furniture.
He was young, dark-skinned, shaved head, wearing a Housekeeping uniform.
Mark asked, “Who the hell are you?”
“Jean.”
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“I’m on medication.
Makes me tired.”
“You were
sleeping
up here?”
“Yes.”
“Well get the hell
out
of here,
Jean.
”
“Yes I’m going,” and he turned and ran down the aisle towards the door.
Out of curiosity Mark side-stepped between the stacked lounge chairs and found a very cozy little space with lounge cushions spread around on the floor.
On the cushions was a young Haitian woman struggling back into her retail attendant uniform.