supposed to get mailed to me directly. They shouldn’t be bothering you with this.”
I realized my tone was a touch stronger than I had intended. Both Abe and Lakeisha looked away as the Dumonts bristled.
“Sorry,” I muttered. “Guess Joey McHenry’s too cheap to bother with fucking stamps.” I looked over to Abe. “Why didn’t you call me about this?”
“Figured they called you already.”
“They hadn’t. First I’m hearing about it.”
Lakeisha squirmed a little. “So, you still not selling, right?”
“No. I’m not selling the properties. Especially to this dick-whistle.” I finished my lemonade quickly and stood up. The Dumonts didn’t seem inclined to move out of the way. “Seriously, guys. I intend on being your shitty landlord for another ten years, minimum.”
Tyrel gave me the tiniest of grins and stepped aside.
As I approached my car, the crew from across the street stood up together and started moving toward it. I fished my keys out of my pants quickly, but there wasn’t enough time to keep this from turning into a scene. The first shirtless gentleman stood in front of my car, setting his foot onto the front bumper.
I shrugged at them. “Guys, really?”
“Nice car,” his friend offered.
“Thanks. I’m going now.”
“Sure about that?”
I never carried weapons. I didn’t believe in them. My personal wardings were generally enough to scoop my ass out of danger when I needed them. Though I had to admit in a situation like this one, gnostic hermeticism wasn’t as useful as a bodyguard.
“Look, I own these properties across the street. I’m just meeting with my tenants.”
“Oh, we know who you are, Money.” He smirked at the others. “See, if we owned shit like that, we figured we’d have plenty carrying-around cash, know what I’m saying?”
Fuck. This was going to turn into a mugging right in front of my tenants. Not what I needed.
A voice boomed from the front of the hurricane fence. “Yo, what’s up?”
The thugs turned to find Tyrel and Jamal trotting up to my car. They gathered back into a line as the Dumonts eased up next to me.
“Problem here, Mister Lake?” Tyrel declared.
“No. Just chatting with your neighbors, T.”
The second thug clicked his teeth and postured. “Best step away.”
Jamal lifted his t-shirt to reveal a handgun tucked into his shorts.
The thugs backed away several steps.
I took advantage of the pause to jump into the Audi, but not before mouthing a “thank you” to Tyrel and Jamal. I watched as the clutch of thugs moved back across the street in my rearview mirror.
On the way around the block to my house, I wondered if McHenry even knew who all of the property owners were. Perhaps one of his employees had a list of names. It was possible he had no idea I was in his way.
And oh sweet Jesus, was I about to be a pain in his ass!
hes and I played a fun game of “pretend we totally don’t have a date on Saturday night” each morning at the café. The game usually involved her bringing out my order with a bouncier smirk than normal, and me basically being awkward yet charming. I was a natural at that. Things felt right with Ches all week, which actually had me worried. I wasn’t used to feeling normal, and this new emotion was as alien as it was opiate.
But before I could enjoy my weekend, I had to survive Julian’s make-up meeting with the election staff. He held the meeting at Gordon’s, as usual. The restaurant basically kept the back room open for Julian unless they had a bar mitzvah or a graduation. That steak restaurant, two blocks from the Inner Harbor, had become the unofficial campaign headquarters for Mayor Sullivan.
That week Sooner began his media blitz, painting the television with his “The Sooner The Better” ads attacking Sullivan’s record as a liberal. Though in reality the two candidates stood on the same platform: clean up Baltimore. The fundamental difference came in the execution. Sullivan
I realized my tone was a touch stronger than I had intended. Both Abe and Lakeisha looked away as the Dumonts bristled.
“Sorry,” I muttered. “Guess Joey McHenry’s too cheap to bother with fucking stamps.” I looked over to Abe. “Why didn’t you call me about this?”
“Figured they called you already.”
“They hadn’t. First I’m hearing about it.”
Lakeisha squirmed a little. “So, you still not selling, right?”
“No. I’m not selling the properties. Especially to this dick-whistle.” I finished my lemonade quickly and stood up. The Dumonts didn’t seem inclined to move out of the way. “Seriously, guys. I intend on being your shitty landlord for another ten years, minimum.”
Tyrel gave me the tiniest of grins and stepped aside.
As I approached my car, the crew from across the street stood up together and started moving toward it. I fished my keys out of my pants quickly, but there wasn’t enough time to keep this from turning into a scene. The first shirtless gentleman stood in front of my car, setting his foot onto the front bumper.
I shrugged at them. “Guys, really?”
“Nice car,” his friend offered.
“Thanks. I’m going now.”
“Sure about that?”
I never carried weapons. I didn’t believe in them. My personal wardings were generally enough to scoop my ass out of danger when I needed them. Though I had to admit in a situation like this one, gnostic hermeticism wasn’t as useful as a bodyguard.
“Look, I own these properties across the street. I’m just meeting with my tenants.”
“Oh, we know who you are, Money.” He smirked at the others. “See, if we owned shit like that, we figured we’d have plenty carrying-around cash, know what I’m saying?”
Fuck. This was going to turn into a mugging right in front of my tenants. Not what I needed.
A voice boomed from the front of the hurricane fence. “Yo, what’s up?”
The thugs turned to find Tyrel and Jamal trotting up to my car. They gathered back into a line as the Dumonts eased up next to me.
“Problem here, Mister Lake?” Tyrel declared.
“No. Just chatting with your neighbors, T.”
The second thug clicked his teeth and postured. “Best step away.”
Jamal lifted his t-shirt to reveal a handgun tucked into his shorts.
The thugs backed away several steps.
I took advantage of the pause to jump into the Audi, but not before mouthing a “thank you” to Tyrel and Jamal. I watched as the clutch of thugs moved back across the street in my rearview mirror.
On the way around the block to my house, I wondered if McHenry even knew who all of the property owners were. Perhaps one of his employees had a list of names. It was possible he had no idea I was in his way.
And oh sweet Jesus, was I about to be a pain in his ass!
hes and I played a fun game of “pretend we totally don’t have a date on Saturday night” each morning at the café. The game usually involved her bringing out my order with a bouncier smirk than normal, and me basically being awkward yet charming. I was a natural at that. Things felt right with Ches all week, which actually had me worried. I wasn’t used to feeling normal, and this new emotion was as alien as it was opiate.
But before I could enjoy my weekend, I had to survive Julian’s make-up meeting with the election staff. He held the meeting at Gordon’s, as usual. The restaurant basically kept the back room open for Julian unless they had a bar mitzvah or a graduation. That steak restaurant, two blocks from the Inner Harbor, had become the unofficial campaign headquarters for Mayor Sullivan.
That week Sooner began his media blitz, painting the television with his “The Sooner The Better” ads attacking Sullivan’s record as a liberal. Though in reality the two candidates stood on the same platform: clean up Baltimore. The fundamental difference came in the execution. Sullivan
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