Tour de Building
The diner is devoid of customers when I enter. Every table is clean, and the muted TV is playing Just for Laughs Gags. Sami is behind the counter holding out an iPad, doing what looks to be some kind of inventory counting cans of soda stacked
on the back shelf, deep stress lines between his brows as he mouths numbers to himself. The sweet scent of something baking
lingers in the air.
The stress fades from his expression as soon as he catches sight of me. “Hey, Mon!”
I take a seat, slowly releasing the air from the original stool I drunkenly sat in weeks ago. Back then, I was a stranger
to this place, but today it’s sort of like coming into a welcoming home, one that I never realized I wanted to be a part of.
A curious twist pulls between his brows. “It’s a little late for coffee and a little early for Ernest—so what is the reason
for this rogue visit you’re blessing me with during what many diner proprietors call poutine hour?”
I grin. “I’ll just have a water.”
“Our specialty.” He smoothly fills a glass with ice water with one hand in pretty much a single move, before sliding it in
front of me. “I’m guessing that’s not what you really came for?”
He’s right. But for the hundredth time since the idea for how to get the tenants out of the rec room finally came to me (while I was picking up Ernest’s afternoon poop of all things!), the better part of my mind has me second-guessing
it all.
“I have kind of a big favor to ask,” I start, silencing my conscience.
This is the only plan that could work. I have to try it.
“Oh yeah?” Sami eyes me curiously.
I nod. “But first, are you and Abu having cooking lessons tonight?” I search out Abu, who is normally in the kitchen around
this time.
Sami shakes his head. “Abu has asked to take a break because they’re, and I quote, sucking all the joy from the short life
he has left since I’m always being an imbecile with questions.”
“Are you serious?” I try to suppress my grin as I picture Abu saying all that—and it tracks.
“That’s what he claims.” Sami gives me an exasperated head shake as he pulls out some glassware from the plastic rack on the
counter and stacks them neatly on the shelf against the back wall. “Convenient he happens to have a mehmooni to go to with
my mom tonight. We’ll resume next week.”
I giggle as the relief swipes in. Canceling their lessons was the one thing I couldn’t ask Sami to do.
Sami finishes out the row of glasses and starts wiping the counter. “So, what’s the favor you’d like to call in?”
I try to keep my voice bright and casual. “Would it be possible to have a really quick town hall? It’s a bit of an emergency.”
“An emergency town hall. Well, I’m intrigued.” Sami waggles his brows. “When are you thinking? Tomorrow could work since Thursdays
are usually slow, Friday could work as well if we—”
“I need to have it tonight—say, six o’clock?” Which is exactly half an hour before the time Lana will arrive with people to
view the building.
Sami stops his wiping. “Oh, wow. That seems a little short notice.”
“I know, but you wouldn’t have to set up anything! I just need a meeting place.”
“I meant it seemed short notice getting people here.” Sami’s expression drops. “You know how last time the turnout wasn’t exactly high?”
“Fair, but this time there’s a real topic to discuss. It looks like the residents have banded together to fix the rec room,
and I just want to make sure everyone is on the same page before they get too deep into the . . . renovations. I want to stop
them spending money on things this early.”
Sami continues wiping the already clean counter. “Ah, the rec room. That’s been the talk of this place since this morning.
Carmen said there was an embargo on darts?”
I nod. “Yes, that’s exactly the kind of thing we need to establish some rules about during the town hall. I don’t want them
putting in too much work just yet, until we have the all-clear from Irene.” I can’t quite make eye contact with Sami. Because
the truth is, all I need is for everyone to leave the damn room for about an hour. But it seems that everyone is a little
too excited about the rec room to stop working on it. To think it’s been ages since the basement was used, and now’s when
everyone is choosing to pile in there.
Sami nods. “Makes sense, but wouldn’t it be easier to discuss the rec room plans in the rec room? No need to drag everyone
here?”
“That’s exactly the point!” I say, my voice unfortunately strained. “It would be impossible to have a productive conversation
about the place while they’re standing right in it. I want the ground rules to be established on . . . neutral ground.” I
smile as confidently as a politician who sort of said nothing with a whole lot of words. On the inside I’m feeling like a
tool.
“I see.” Sami’s possibly suppressing a smirk. If this doesn’t work, I’ll have no choice but to cancel on Lana, lest the tenants
see her showing clients around. The whole thing I’d been working for this entire time will blow up when Lana’s client runs
into Carmen in a fucking tool belt.
“Okay, sure. Let’s do it.”
“Yes, Sami!” I don’t mean to literally clap him on the bicep again, but the instant my hand lands on his arm, our eyes meet.
“Mona, you know I’m happy to help.” His eyes soften on me with a little too much fondness. When I pull my hand back, he clears
his throat and nods to my almost-empty water. “Can I grab you another?”
“Nah, I should go get prepped for tonight. I’ll come by after Ernest’s walk.”
“Are you sure? It’s on the house, for my favorite pseudo-super.”
I shake my head. I know he’s joking, but the guilt seems to cling to my skin like the frosting on the cinnamon buns in the
display case. I force a grin and finish the last of my water.
Already this building mixer is different from the last one, in that by the time I’m opening the door to Corner Coffee there
are already half a dozen people waiting. Jane, Carmen, and Fancy Widow are seated high on their stools, while Fighting Couple
share a booth with Divorced Dad across from them. Sami is running around in the background, refreshing drinks and adding little
plates of appetizers to the tables.
Who knew that a shitty room in the basement that was basically a mouse bathroom could evoke so much interest?
The instant I make my way over to the lively group, Fighting Couple Guy, aka Marcus, summons me over with this douchey little
hand wave. “Hello, Mona, is it?” Marcus asks, without pulling his focus from the withering straw in his glass.
“Yes, that’s me,” I answer.
“Can you buy new laundry machines? These old ones are making my clothes smell weird.” His partner, Janine, nods while I try
to keep a straight face.
“Well, I mean, that’s not quite in the budget right now,” I awkwardly answer. “And the issue might be the detergent you’re using?” I resist adding, Or the hot dogs you’re infusing your life with? “But it’s something I can keep on my radar.”
Carmen raps his knuckles on the counter. “I believe this town hall is about selecting the paint color for the rec room.”
“I’ve got swatches!” Jane isn’t joking. She holds up a literal binder as thick as a phone book with five stacks of Behr swatches
rubber banded together.
“The online mailer said this town hall is for any concern—and I’ve been wanting to talk about the geese since last month!”
Fancy Widow calls out.
“What on God’s green earth do you have against the geese?” Carmen nudges her. “The beautiful songs they squawk? You want me
to make you a record?”
“You’re too much!” She slaps him in the arm playfully.
Sami’s eyes find mine from the other side of the room. He raises his brows in a suggestively knowing look about those two.
I suppress my giggle.
“So, for the rec room, let’s start by sharing everyone’s wildest dreams . . .” Jane starts in on all her ambitions for a space
that sounds about as nice as a premium lounge at an airport. And this is good. Really. They just need to keep up the lively
conversation for the next hour. So long as they don’t actually do too much more work before it sells, it’s okay.
The turnout doesn’t include everyone in the building. If I’m calculating things right, Uniform Family has two members at work
right now, and the son will hopefully be staying in this evening. And there’s Never Here Guy in 3A, who is never home, who
I almost forgot existed at this point. Same with the miscellaneous college grads who understandably can’t be bothered to come.
So Norm is the only one who might run into the tour.
I send him a quick Slack message. Come grab a snack at the diner! We’ve got plenty and we’d love to have you visit!
After dropping off an orange soda in front of Carmen, Sami makes his way to me. “Look at this bustling mixer you’ve thrown.”
He nudges my side and the warmth from his arm swoops through me.
“Sami, you didn’t have to do all this.” I nod to the plates of appetizers he’s set out.
He shrugs. “Eh, that’s just a few basic snacks. For a diner of this caliber, it’s nothing.” He grins softly at me.
“Well, I appreciate it.” I nudge him back. “And I appreciate a diner of this caliber for hosting us.”
“Now what can I get you to drink?”
“I’ll take a soda water.”
“Soda water for the super!” Sami slings his cloth over his shoulders and heads behind the counter.
“Right, everyone,” I call out. “Thanks so much for coming. As you know, we’ve got a few pressing matters to discuss as we
look to improve the rec room. I wanted to pause all work until I have assurance we can renovate the room. But really, this
discussion is bigger than that. This is about your building, and I’m here to listen. Feel free to bring up anything and everything
right now—nothing is ever too small, and I want the chance to hear from everyone.” I put on my politician smile again, one
that says: “Keep talking. I’m listening.” So long as I can keep everyone talking here, and away from the building, and so
long as they aren’t renovating, they can say any bullshit they fancy—