that garbage.
Not him. He was an economics major. His original plan was to work his ass off, graduate summa, and get his ticket punched as an intern for one of the major Wall Street investment banks. But ever since Bear Stearns, Goldman, and Merrill had blown themselves up, he’d been thinking about trying to get on with a private-equity firm. He didn’t care which, just so long as it was big.
Go big or go home in a Med-Lift chopper was pretty much the Dan Hastings credo.
He popped in his iPod earbuds and scrolled himself up a little Fall Out Boy. That and My Chemical Romance were the greatest in wheelchair-cruising tunes.
He was passing Lewisohn Hall when he saw the light. A strange blue strobing coming from a doorway on its south side. Was it a cell phone? He slowed the chair and tugged out his earbuds.
“Hey, Dan. C’mere,” called a voice in a loud whisper.
What was up? Dan thought, zooming over. Was it somebody from one of his classes? College high jinks? Maybe it was a pantie raid. He was down with that. What was a pantie raid, anyway?
When he was about five feet away, Dan almost jerked out of his chair as he braked to a dead stop. A guy in a black pea coat and a ski mask stepped out of the doorway, holding a pistol.
What the fuck was this? And where the hell was Security?
He’d heard that Morningside Heights, the neighborhood around the Ivy League school, was notoriously dangerous, but he’d never heard of someone actually being mugged on campus.
“Take it,” Dan said, offering him the iPod. “There’s a hundred and fifty dollars and an American Express card in the wallet in my bag. You can have that, too, buddy.”
“Gee, aren’t you nice?” the man wearing the ski mask said as he grabbed Dan by his jacket and ripped him full out of the chair. The service door beside the man boomed as he kicked it open.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Dan cried as he was carried into the dark building.
The man hoisted him over his knee and violently wrapped his arms, legs, and mouth with masking tape.
“Shhh,” the man said, slinging him over his shoulder. “Quiet down now. No talking in class.”
Part Three
SIGN OF THE CROSS
Chapter 36
“DAD, DON’T TRIP, and whatever you do, please don’t drop it!” Jane called after me as I zombie-shuffled over the curb toward Holy Name’s auditorium, bearing the awkward display boards.
Though the science projects were officially completed, this next stage was like on the Food Network show where the contestants have to move their cakes to the judging table.
Only I had to do it six times, and there would be no chance for a $10,000 check.
Once everything had been safely transported, I started to relax, though when I passed a blood pressure cuff on one of the gymnasium’s many displays, I was tempted to test mine.
I walked Chrissy to her kindergarten class’s door. She pulled away from me as I went to give her a hug.
“Not here, Daddy. They’ll say I’m a baby,” she told me.
But you are a baby, I thought.
“Can’t we at least shake hands, Miss Bennett?” I said. She gave me a quick, businesslike pump and bolted off without looking back. I smiled from the door as she linked arms and began whispering in earnest with one of her classmates. The kids were all growing up so quickly.
Thank God I, miraculously, wasn’t aging with them.
I was coming down the school’s front steps when I noticed that I hadn’t turned on my phone after charging it. No wonder my morning had been filled with peace and quiet.
Uh-oh, I thought. In the past twenty minutes, there had been two messages from my boss and four from Emily Parker. I called Emily back first. She was cuter.
“What now?” I said.
“The Fox Channel. Turn it on.”
I ducked into Holy Name’s rectory, adjoining the school. Mrs. Maynard, the parish secretary, looked up from stuffing envelopes at her desk.
“Father Bennett is still saying the eight o’clock, Mike,” she said to me.
“Is
Not him. He was an economics major. His original plan was to work his ass off, graduate summa, and get his ticket punched as an intern for one of the major Wall Street investment banks. But ever since Bear Stearns, Goldman, and Merrill had blown themselves up, he’d been thinking about trying to get on with a private-equity firm. He didn’t care which, just so long as it was big.
Go big or go home in a Med-Lift chopper was pretty much the Dan Hastings credo.
He popped in his iPod earbuds and scrolled himself up a little Fall Out Boy. That and My Chemical Romance were the greatest in wheelchair-cruising tunes.
He was passing Lewisohn Hall when he saw the light. A strange blue strobing coming from a doorway on its south side. Was it a cell phone? He slowed the chair and tugged out his earbuds.
“Hey, Dan. C’mere,” called a voice in a loud whisper.
What was up? Dan thought, zooming over. Was it somebody from one of his classes? College high jinks? Maybe it was a pantie raid. He was down with that. What was a pantie raid, anyway?
When he was about five feet away, Dan almost jerked out of his chair as he braked to a dead stop. A guy in a black pea coat and a ski mask stepped out of the doorway, holding a pistol.
What the fuck was this? And where the hell was Security?
He’d heard that Morningside Heights, the neighborhood around the Ivy League school, was notoriously dangerous, but he’d never heard of someone actually being mugged on campus.
“Take it,” Dan said, offering him the iPod. “There’s a hundred and fifty dollars and an American Express card in the wallet in my bag. You can have that, too, buddy.”
“Gee, aren’t you nice?” the man wearing the ski mask said as he grabbed Dan by his jacket and ripped him full out of the chair. The service door beside the man boomed as he kicked it open.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Dan cried as he was carried into the dark building.
The man hoisted him over his knee and violently wrapped his arms, legs, and mouth with masking tape.
“Shhh,” the man said, slinging him over his shoulder. “Quiet down now. No talking in class.”
Part Three
SIGN OF THE CROSS
Chapter 36
“DAD, DON’T TRIP, and whatever you do, please don’t drop it!” Jane called after me as I zombie-shuffled over the curb toward Holy Name’s auditorium, bearing the awkward display boards.
Though the science projects were officially completed, this next stage was like on the Food Network show where the contestants have to move their cakes to the judging table.
Only I had to do it six times, and there would be no chance for a $10,000 check.
Once everything had been safely transported, I started to relax, though when I passed a blood pressure cuff on one of the gymnasium’s many displays, I was tempted to test mine.
I walked Chrissy to her kindergarten class’s door. She pulled away from me as I went to give her a hug.
“Not here, Daddy. They’ll say I’m a baby,” she told me.
But you are a baby, I thought.
“Can’t we at least shake hands, Miss Bennett?” I said. She gave me a quick, businesslike pump and bolted off without looking back. I smiled from the door as she linked arms and began whispering in earnest with one of her classmates. The kids were all growing up so quickly.
Thank God I, miraculously, wasn’t aging with them.
I was coming down the school’s front steps when I noticed that I hadn’t turned on my phone after charging it. No wonder my morning had been filled with peace and quiet.
Uh-oh, I thought. In the past twenty minutes, there had been two messages from my boss and four from Emily Parker. I called Emily back first. She was cuter.
“What now?” I said.
“The Fox Channel. Turn it on.”
I ducked into Holy Name’s rectory, adjoining the school. Mrs. Maynard, the parish secretary, looked up from stuffing envelopes at her desk.
“Father Bennett is still saying the eight o’clock, Mike,” she said to me.
“Is
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