CHAPTER 4
“Ay, man. You could’ve told me you were skipping town,” my best friend Murphy says as soon as I answer his call. His dream was to own a sports bar, and he accomplished that. In fact, he owns the hottest sports bar in Bridgeport. His establishment is called The Huddle. It’s known for its frequent famous visitors, including football and basketball players as well as movie stars. But the thing that really put it on the map is the selection of chicken wing flavors. One is so hot, it’s called death . Then there are the parmesan, salt and vinegar, General Tso’s and enchilada wings. I’ve tried them all except death. I’m not eating anything that’s going to make me feel like I’ve ingested battery acid.
“How’d you find out?” I inquire.
“Peter came into the bar last night. I asked him where you were and he gave me the scoop. Said you were down there being a maintenance man. I called him a liar to his face.”
“Nah, he ain’t lying. I’ll do whatever it takes to climb that ladder, brother. You know that.”
“So, you’re really doing this?”
“I am. This woman down here got this office on lock. It’s the only apartment we own on the East Coast that has a move-out rate under five percent. The closest behind that is at eighteen percent. I have to know how this is being done, because it can’t be a coincidence.”
“Well, handle your business, bruh. I ain’t mad at you. How do you like it down there so far?”
“It’s different. I’ve been here for three days and I’m already ready to come home. But I can’t complain about this apartment. I’m on the top floor—feels like I’m in a penthouse.”
“It’s nice, huh?”
“It is—not nicer than my crib, but it’ll do in a pinch, especially compared to some of these properties down here.”
“I heard that.”
“My problem with this operation we’re running is actually getting to know this woman. She’s already on my bad side.”
“How so?”
“She told me I needed to fill out an application for the maintenance job.”
“An application? You didn’t tell her who you were?”
“No, and I don’t plan on it. I have to be completely undercover.”
“Well, if that’s the case, you have to follow the same rules as everyone else, then.”
“Right. The only thing is, I’m not good at following rules. I’m better at making and enforcing rules instead of following them.”
“You sound just like your pops.”
“He taught me well, but he didn’t teach me much of anything about women.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, he swooped in, swept my mother off her feet and that’s the extent of what I know about relationships.”
Murphy laughs. “Hold on, player…the biggest, baddest COO in Bridgeport that got all the ladies in an uproar knows nothing about relationships? You can’t make me believe that.”
“Okay, I know a little about marriage because I see how my stepdad treats my mother, but I don’t know about his past relationships. I don’t know what kind of man he was before he met her. He could’ve been taking all the women down.”
Murphy snickers. “You mean like you’re doing now?”
“Man, stay out of my business.”
“For real though…check this. Do you really think your sweet mother would wind up with a player?”
I shrug. “Don’t know. If he was a player, he could’ve changed for her. Think about it—do you ever truly know someone?”
“Hmm…I suppose not.”
“And what if Peter was that kind of man? Does that mean she was supposed to turn him down because of it?”
“Where are you going with this, Ax?”
“They’re just questions.”
“Yeah, but why now? You down there looking for a Southern Belle?”
“No, but this woman I’m going to be working with—she’s a real beauty. I’m already thinking of ways to avoid her.”
“Avoid her? She’s the manager there, isn’t she?”
“She is.”
“Then how do you suppose you’re going to avoid her? I wouldn’t be too concerned about being around her if I were you. Women can usually detect when a man isn’t trying to be that dude—you know what I mean?”
“No, I don’t know what you mean.”
“The kind of man who’s trying to holla. You don’t exactly put off vibes that would indicate you’re the relationship type. You’re very dismissive when it comes to women.”
“And you’re not?”
“I am, but I ain’t got nothing on you. And don’t take it the wrong way—it’s not a bad thing. It’s who you are. If you can’t be true to yourself…ay, you know the rest. Anyway, I gotta get back to the bar—”
“Wait…one more thing. Do you mind if I list your company as one of my previous employers on this fake resumé I have to do for this job ?”
“Go for it. If she calls to verify, you know I got your back.”
“Thanks, man.”
“No problem. I’ll holla at you later.”
I hang up the phone, more confused than when I called him. I click open a pen and start on this application. Every line I’m forced to complete has my blood boiling. I shouldn’t have to do this, but at least I didn’t have to come up with a resumé from scratch. I had my assistant prepare a bogus resumé, and she listed two companies where I had supposedly worked. One is Murphy’s bar. I knew he would be okay with it, so I had already instructed her to list it. The other is maintenance for an apartment complex in Connecticut that’s not affiliated with Leverage. Darla knows the manager over there and asked her for a favor.
By the way Zimyra operates, I know she’s calling my references, past employers and doing background checks. She’s just that thorough. She’s one of those overachievers. Always got to have her T’s crossed and I’s dotted. She pays attention to detail. She’s organized. I could tell that by the look of her well-structured desk. She handles her business, and she does it well. I think that’s part of the reason I’m going to dread this so much. The way she works is familiar because it’s how I function. I think I may have found my equal in a woman.
She’s just like me.