She grins. “At least when you next see lovely super, you can tell him you’ve got his rent.”
“What if he tries to throw you out now he knows you’re staying here?”
“We’ll kill him.” She fires an imaginary gun. “Pop pop.”
“All right, Magnitude.” I get to my feet. “I’ll go get changed.”
“Was that a Community reference?”
“It was.”
“I’m so proud. You only started watching that because I made you.”
“Well, I guess I’m just the best roommate ever, aren’t I?”
I walk through to my room. The uniform isn’t the greatest but it could be worse. A pair of jeans and a pale gray top that probably used to be white many moons ago.
I wear my big coat over it. Last time I helped Cathy out with a job like this, the building was freezing.
When I come back out, Cathy’s got the list for me. “It’s a tick-sheet thing,” she says. “Just run down it, sign it, and then leave the sheet at reception on your way out. If there’s no one there, shove it into the in tray and they’ll deal with it first thing in the morning.”
“Got it.” I shove the tick-sheet in my handbag with the address and then I’m ready. “Wish me luck.”
“You want to take a knife in case the lovely Jeremy’s waiting to pounce?”
“I better not. There’s always the chance I might use it and then where would we be?”
“Not having to buy meat for a few weeks.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You should be. You know I’m trying to cut down on super’s.”
Her face turns serious. “Thanks for doing this, Fee. I owe you one.”
“I’m getting paid. I should be thanking you.”
Two
Ophelia
Iget the train all the way to Lexington and then there’s a half block walk in the blasting wind until I’m looking up at the Felici building. It’s trying to snow but the wind keeps whipping the flakes away before they can settle.
I look up at my temporary workplace. An F in a circle sits above the glass and chrome front doors. The lights are all on inside but I can’t see a soul. The building seems to be mostly glass and crisp white stone.
I walk up the broad steps and look for a card reader at the top. While I’m looking, someone shouts from the sidewalk. “You’re not going in there, are you?”
I look down. It’s a homeless man pushing a shopping cart filled with black bags. “Are you talking to me?” I ask.
“Bad juju in there,” he says, pointing a gloved hand up at the building. “Real bad.”
“Right, thanks. I’ll bear it in mind.”
“Seen people go in and never come back out.” He points at his right eye. “I see everything that goes on around here. Real bad juju. Vincenzo Felici is one stone cold bastard. You want to turn around and go home, girl. Whatever you think’s in there, it ain’t. Just death and a mean cruel son of a bitch who don’t give a shit about nothing but money. You don’t get money without shitting on the little guy. You trust me on that.”
“Okay. Thanks.”