LitWriter2013
Really Experienced
- Joined
- Apr 29, 2013
- Posts
- 164
"Suburban neighborhood fifteen to twenty minutes from the downtown area."
The agent sitting at the computer tapped Greg's requirement into his keyboard. "Okay ... one hundred and twelve homes within twenty minutes of Broadway and Howard, where Central Square--"
"Within two blocks of a bus line that runs seven days a week."
More typing. "Forty eight."
"Bedroom set apart from the rest of the living quarters, preferably on a separate floor..."
Yet more tapping. "Twenty six."
"...with either a private entrance from outside or, preferably, an entrance from the garage."
"Eight."
Greg considered his list of requirements. They pretty much gave him what he needed: privacy, the ability to come and go as he pleased without alerting others in the home, and the ability to move about between the 'burbs and downtown without having to use his car.
"Anything else?" the man asked, "or shall I print the listings?"
"Single, female occupant," Greg added, quickly emphasizing, "No children."
"None of our listings include children," the agent said. "People with children don't usually like to rent rooms to strangers when they--"
Greg gestured impatiently, saying, "Then that won't be a problem, will it? How many?"
The agent typed, then grimaced. "One. But ... we sent the referral to a man at our south side office this morning."
"Print it, please."
"But--"
"Just--" Greg cut him off, trying to maintain his cool. He finished softly, "--print it."
The agent tapped at the key board, and the printer behind him fired up. He handed Greg the color copy of the house.
Greg stared at the split level home and smiled. "It'll do nicely."
"But, as I told you," the man repeated, "We referred a man this morning. I'm sure that by now--"
As the agent was rambling on, Greg pulled an envelope from inside his jacket and set it atop the desk. From anywhere else in the office, it simply looked like a thick envelope. But from the agent's perspective, the opened envelope showed a thick stack of twenty dollar bills within it.
The agent hesitated, then picked up the phone and tapped a single button. "Yes, Melanie...? It's Howard, over at the north-- Yes, you remembered." He laughed. "Yes, that was a heck of a company party wasn't it? Anyway ... the referral we sent to your office this morning, for the split level over on-- Yes, that's the one. Has the client seen the place yet...? No...? Good! Very good. We, um ... we made a mistake over here. I made a mistake, I should say. That room isn't available anymore. I forgot that-- Yes... yes ... wonderful... Okay, next party. I'll call you later about the commission, okay...? Okay. Talk to you later."
He hung up the line, looked around the room for prying eyes, opened his top desk drawer, and slid the cash filled envelope into the drawer, closing it quickly. He stuck his hand out with a wide smile. "Congratulations. The room is yours."
Greg knocked on the door, waiting with a single, small bag sitting near his feet. The home's owner answered, smiling politely. "Greg Harris? Katie Dolan."
Greg's eyes opened wider at the sight of her.
"Yes, I know," she chuckled. "I get that look a lot when people first see me. Please come in."
He picked up his bag and followed her inside, immediately surveying the place for escape routes, gun racks or lockers, perimeter alarms, signs of a boy friend -- or girl friend -- who might provide complications, and more things that would affect his safety should things go badly at any point.
She showed him around the entire home, even opening the door to her own bedroom and giving him a glance at that.
"And my room?" he asked.
"Downstairs," she said, heading for the stairway.
He followed her down. It was perfect. The bedroom was the only room on the lower floor except the laundry and a small Mud Room that led to the back patio. The bedroom had just the one door, to the hallway and on to the back yard or garage depending on which way you turned. But if he found it necessary, Greg knew he could use the window as an access or escape route, too.
"It's perfect," he said. He shook her hand, gave her the copy of the application that told her some brief facts about himself -- all false, of course -- and handed her yet a second envelope. "I hope you don't mind cash. I don't really trust banks, so ... no debit or credit cards."
He watched as she peeked inside the envelope. Her eyes widened, much as those of the agent who had arranged the room had.
"It's the full six months worth," he said. "I just wanted to make sure you knew I wasn't a flake who was going to stay a couple of nights, then steal everything not nailed down."
He chuckled, not just at his joke but at the fact that if he was going to do anything that Katie didn't like, it would more likely be burying her cold body in a shallow grave on the edge of the nearby state park.
The agent sitting at the computer tapped Greg's requirement into his keyboard. "Okay ... one hundred and twelve homes within twenty minutes of Broadway and Howard, where Central Square--"
"Within two blocks of a bus line that runs seven days a week."
More typing. "Forty eight."
"Bedroom set apart from the rest of the living quarters, preferably on a separate floor..."
Yet more tapping. "Twenty six."
"...with either a private entrance from outside or, preferably, an entrance from the garage."
"Eight."
Greg considered his list of requirements. They pretty much gave him what he needed: privacy, the ability to come and go as he pleased without alerting others in the home, and the ability to move about between the 'burbs and downtown without having to use his car.
"Anything else?" the man asked, "or shall I print the listings?"
"Single, female occupant," Greg added, quickly emphasizing, "No children."
"None of our listings include children," the agent said. "People with children don't usually like to rent rooms to strangers when they--"
Greg gestured impatiently, saying, "Then that won't be a problem, will it? How many?"
The agent typed, then grimaced. "One. But ... we sent the referral to a man at our south side office this morning."
"Print it, please."
"But--"
"Just--" Greg cut him off, trying to maintain his cool. He finished softly, "--print it."
The agent tapped at the key board, and the printer behind him fired up. He handed Greg the color copy of the house.
Greg stared at the split level home and smiled. "It'll do nicely."
"But, as I told you," the man repeated, "We referred a man this morning. I'm sure that by now--"
As the agent was rambling on, Greg pulled an envelope from inside his jacket and set it atop the desk. From anywhere else in the office, it simply looked like a thick envelope. But from the agent's perspective, the opened envelope showed a thick stack of twenty dollar bills within it.
The agent hesitated, then picked up the phone and tapped a single button. "Yes, Melanie...? It's Howard, over at the north-- Yes, you remembered." He laughed. "Yes, that was a heck of a company party wasn't it? Anyway ... the referral we sent to your office this morning, for the split level over on-- Yes, that's the one. Has the client seen the place yet...? No...? Good! Very good. We, um ... we made a mistake over here. I made a mistake, I should say. That room isn't available anymore. I forgot that-- Yes... yes ... wonderful... Okay, next party. I'll call you later about the commission, okay...? Okay. Talk to you later."
He hung up the line, looked around the room for prying eyes, opened his top desk drawer, and slid the cash filled envelope into the drawer, closing it quickly. He stuck his hand out with a wide smile. "Congratulations. The room is yours."
Greg knocked on the door, waiting with a single, small bag sitting near his feet. The home's owner answered, smiling politely. "Greg Harris? Katie Dolan."
Greg's eyes opened wider at the sight of her.
"Yes, I know," she chuckled. "I get that look a lot when people first see me. Please come in."
He picked up his bag and followed her inside, immediately surveying the place for escape routes, gun racks or lockers, perimeter alarms, signs of a boy friend -- or girl friend -- who might provide complications, and more things that would affect his safety should things go badly at any point.
She showed him around the entire home, even opening the door to her own bedroom and giving him a glance at that.
"And my room?" he asked.
"Downstairs," she said, heading for the stairway.
He followed her down. It was perfect. The bedroom was the only room on the lower floor except the laundry and a small Mud Room that led to the back patio. The bedroom had just the one door, to the hallway and on to the back yard or garage depending on which way you turned. But if he found it necessary, Greg knew he could use the window as an access or escape route, too.
"It's perfect," he said. He shook her hand, gave her the copy of the application that told her some brief facts about himself -- all false, of course -- and handed her yet a second envelope. "I hope you don't mind cash. I don't really trust banks, so ... no debit or credit cards."
He watched as she peeked inside the envelope. Her eyes widened, much as those of the agent who had arranged the room had.
"It's the full six months worth," he said. "I just wanted to make sure you knew I wasn't a flake who was going to stay a couple of nights, then steal everything not nailed down."
He chuckled, not just at his joke but at the fact that if he was going to do anything that Katie didn't like, it would more likely be burying her cold body in a shallow grave on the edge of the nearby state park.
