by J. J. Murray
But if I don’t call and I can afford it, I will hate myself. She smiled at Kiki. I need some privacy. I can’t have gossipy Kiki knowing anything about this. “Kiki, are you hungry?”
“I could be,” Kiki said.
“Your choice this time,” Hope said.
“No Chinese burritos?”
“No.”
Kiki smiled. “Jerk chicken combos from Golden Krust, okay?”
Hope nodded and gave her a twenty. “My treat.”
Kiki snatched the money. “Thank you.”
“Take your time.” Please.
The second Kiki left, Hope dialed the number in the ad.
“Ideal Properties Group, this is Johnny Vacca.”
Definitely an older Italian man. “Hello, I’m Hope Warren, and I’m calling about a property you have listed on Craigslist at one thousand one Flatbush Avenue.”
“Ten thousand a month, you pay all utilities, two-year lease minimum. Are you interested?”
The money’s okay, but that’s a long lease. What if Dylan needs to expand or move to another space? “Yes, I’m interested. How old is the building, Mr. Vacca?”
“Built in the thirties and built to last.”
“How long have the businesses on either side of the property been there?” Hope asked.
“I’m not exactly sure, but there’s always been something in those buildings since I was a kid. What will you use the building for?”
Hope crossed her fingers. “A day care center for preschool children that emphasizes the arts.”
“Interesting.”
At least he’s not laughing at me. “How long has the building been vacant?”
“Close to nine months. A wireless company found a smaller space up the street when the lease ran out. They were foolish, if you ask me. There are now four wireless companies in the same block.”
At least they didn’t go out of business. “So ten thousand a month. . .”
“Two-year lease.”
That’s nearly a quarter of a million dollars over two years! This has to be where I act hesitant. “I’m not sure . . .”
“Do you have a counter offer?” Mr. Vacca asked.
Yes, give it to us rent-free for a year, and we’ll pay you ten percent of what we make. Right. Here goes . . . “Nine thousand a month and throw in all utilities on a one-year lease.”
“That’s . . . Miss Warren, you sound like an educated lady, but I have to say this. Are you crazy?”
I used to be. I think I’m sane now. “If you agree to my terms, Mr. Vacca, I’ll pay you . . .” She nodded. Here’s where a sacrifice feels right. It feels good. “I’ll pay you five months plus the security deposit up front at nine thousand a month.”
Maybe I am crazy! That’s fifty-four thousand dollars! I’ll only have twenty-six thousand left, but if we lived—I mean, if Dylan lived . . . No. If we lived in the basement, we wouldn’t have rent or utilities payments. “But only if you give us a one-year lease and pay all utilities.”
“You have fifty-four K lying around?” Mr. Vacca asked.
“Yes.” It’s been lying around waiting especially for this moment. All this time I thought I was saving that money for my dream, only it wasn’t my dream. It was Dylan’s dream all along.
“And you can pay me this money when?”
He sounds very interested. Money does talk in America. “I can hand you a cashier’s check for that amount tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow.” That wonderful word! “Mr. Vacca?”
“You have my attention, Miss Warren,” he said. “How can I contact you?”
Hope gave him her home and work numbers.
“You’re low-balling me, Miss Warren, but I like how you negotiate, and I like your idea. You know, once the Kings Theatre is back to its original splendor, that block will be jumping again.”
“That’s what we’re counting on, and that’s what we want to be a part of.” I keep saying “we.” I’m seeing Dylan and me as a team, a couple, as lifelong partners. I can’t keep my feet still.
“How’s this: ninety-five and water only, two-year lease.”
He caved in that quickly! I’m winning. I think. Should I accept this compromise? My parents didn’t raise me to compromise on anything. Okay, I compromised on Odell, and look where that got me. “I have to stick to my offer, Mr. Vacca. You could have fifty-four thousand dollars in your hands tomorrow. Give me a call if you’d like to reconsider.”
“Don’t go looking anywhere else, Miss Warren,” Mr. Vacca said. “I have to run this by some of my people. Thank you for calling. I will be in touch.”
Hope hung up the phone, and her hands began to shake. I don’t know what I’m doing, but it feels right. Please call back! Please call—
Oh merde!
My period? Not now!
Wait.
My period!
Yes!
I’m all the way back now.
This is so wonderful!
But it has to come now? At this freaking moment when I’m on the brink of Dylan’s dream?
Hope rushed to the washroom, where she still had a stash of tampons and panty liners in a cabinet. Do I call Dylan with the good news? Hmm. Does a woman call her boyfriend to tell him her long-lost “friend” has returned? And with a vengeance. Wow. And ow. I have not missed this. I mean, I have, but . . . ow.
Food always helped me. I need food. Where is Kiki with our lunch?
Kiki banged in the door with their food minutes later, and as she arranged it on the counter, she stared at Hope. “Are you all right? You look sick.”
“I just started my period.” She opened the Golden Krust container and dug into her jerk chicken.
Kiki spooned some red beans and rice into her mouth. “You were worried your period would not come? Or are you sad your period came?”
Oh, she is so nosy! “I don’t know if you noticed, but I used to be really thin.”
“You are not skinny now,” Kiki said. “You are the picture of health. Love has made you strong.”
Love has made me well. Love has made me sane. “I had anorexia, Kiki.”
Kiki blinked. “Black women do not get this disease.”
“This one did,” Hope said. “This is my first period in about fifteen months.”
“I did not know such a thing was possible,” Kiki said. “You look so fit now.”
Because I’ve been eating over twenty thousand calories a week. “I feel fit, and it’s because I’ve gained weight and gotten healthy that I’m working down there again.” And working well. I have not missed this freaking pain.
“I never thought I would ever say this to another woman,” Kiki said. “I am overjoyed you had your period today.” She laughed. “And I hope you get many more.”
“Thank you.” Although one day, and maybe soon, I hope to be late for at least nine months.
The afternoon training session with Justin went well. Hope watched as he took apart and cleaned the self-serve copier.
“I’ve been reading the manuals,” Justin said. “I can actually run them all, you know.”
“You’ve been dogging it,” Hope said. That’s one American phrase I’ll never understand. Dogs are more active than cats. They should say, “You’ve been catting it.”
“Yeah,” Justin said. “I get sidetracked by my other job too easily. If you and Dylan are ever interested in my services, let me know.”
“You take normal pictures, too, right?” Hope asked. Like engagement pictures or wedding pictures or baby pictures . . .
“I could,” he said, “but I get more money doing the other kind.”
What are they called? Oh. The “money shots.”
“Kiki and Angie are getting theirs done,” Justin said.
“With their clothes on, right?” Hope whispered.
Justin squinted. “Not sure. I think Kiki is more interested than Angie is. We’ll see.” He shut the machine and turned it on. “All cleaned and fixed.”
“Justin, could I please go to Kinderstuff at three today? I haven’t seen those children in a long time.”
“Sure,” Justin said. “But only . . .”
I knew there’d be a catch. “But only if I . . .”
Justin looked out the front window. “Could you maybe write a letter or call my uncle? You know, to let him know that I’m not useless.”
“I’m sure he’s seen the sales figures from the weekend,” Hope said.
“Yeah, but he thinks that you run the place,” Justin said. “If he heard what I did over the weekend, he might, you know, think better of me.”
“I’d be happy to make that call,” Hope said. Just not today.
Justin nodded. “I’m, um, I’m really sorry I’ve been such a bad boss. I looked at this copy shop as the end of the line, you know? I kept expecting to screw up worse than I already have and go back to some loading dock in Ronkonkoma, but you kept everything going and made me look good. I’ll try to be more, um, managerial from now on. Oh.” He pulled a business card from his shirt pocket. He handed it to Hope.
“Tuggle Photography. For the best in discreet, intimate photography.”
“In case you know anyone who might be interested in my services.”
I know no one.
“I handed out a few of these this past weekend,” Justin said, smiling, “and some of them called back. So if I disappear . . .”
Hope nodded. I will try not to think about it. “I will know where you aren’t.”
The phone rang four times between one and two, none of them Mr. Vacca. Hope began to worry. Maybe he’s still at lunch.
At 2:17 PM, Kiki picked up the ringing phone. “Phone for you,” Kiki said. “A Mr. Vacca. He sounds Italian.”
Hope took and covered the receiver. “Please don’t eavesdrop.”
“It is not in my nature not to listen,” Kiki said from her stool.
“Please,” Hope said. “Could you take a walk?”
“You do not trust me with this secret?” Kiki asked.
“No.”
Kiki laughed and hopped off the stool. “I would not trust me either. It must be a big secret. I will leave you two alone.”
Once Kiki left, Hope sat on the stool. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Vacca.”
“I have a new offer for you, Miss Warren,” Mr. Vacca said, “and I want you to know that I am cutting my own throat. Ninety-five and all utilities, two-year lease.”
All utilities? Is he crazy? I’m thankful he’s crazy, yes, but he has to do something about the other two items. “I’m still not sure. We’re just beginning this thing, Mr. Vacca.”
“Is it the lease amount that’s holding you back?” he asked.
“That and the length of the lease,” Hope said. “If we are successful, and we will be, we may have to expand or move to a larger space. We don’t want a lease to tie us down. Don’t tie us down, Mr. Vacca, and we’ll be the best tenants you’ve ever had. I’ll restate my offer. Five months plus security deposit at signing, one-year lease, all utilities.”
“As is.”
That sounded gloomy. “Of course. And we reserve the right to fix it up any way we see fit. If we see a wall we don’t like, we knock it down. If we see a window that needs opening, we open it.”
“You will need new carpet,” Mr. Vacca said. “The first-floor carpet is stained.”
“There are hardwood floors under the carpet, right?” Hope asked.
“Right.”
“We actually prefer hardwood floors,” Hope said. “They’re easier to clean up.”
“And the furnace is forty years old.”
Brr. “If we replace it, would you take it off the lease payment for that month for the inconvenience? It will only add value to the property.”
“I might,” Mr. Vacca said. “I should. That’s a drafty building for children. It mostly needs paint.”
“And we’ll have children who will help us do it,” Hope said.
“You really are putting a children’s art center and day care there,” Mr. Vacca said.
“Yes.”
“Until you told me, I had never heard of such a thing,” Mr. Vacca said. “Not so much with the books, huh?”
“No, sir,” Hope said. “We want creative, active learning all the time.”
“I learned most of what I know by doing it,” Mr. Vacca said. “How much will you charge?”
I have to be careful here. Dylan wants no more than one-fifty a week, but that’s just not realistic. “No more than two hundred a week.”
“And reasonable, too,” Mr. Vacca said. “I have grandchildren who would like such a place. Maybe I could pay you in advance, say, for the first month?”
A client already? Will we be ready? “Mr. Vacca, we’re not ready to begin immediately. We couldn’t possibly open our doors before the new year.”
“Oh, I figured you wouldn’t be, but you sound determined, and if you make it work, you’re going to have plenty of applicants at two hundred a week.”
Plenty of applicants. Wow. We have so much to do! We have to make and print applications, contracts, emergency forms . . . but here I am at the place to do them all at a fifteen percent discount. I am obviously in the right place for the first time in my life.
Maybe I’ve been in the right place all this time.
“Here is my final offer, Miss Warren,” Mr. Vacca said. “Fifty thousand at lease signing for one year, nine thousand a month, all utilities paid, and I will strip out all the carpet for you. This amount includes one free month for my grandson Joey, who is very good at drawing.”
What did he say? Fifty? What? “You said you had grandchildren.”
“A set of twins, twenty-two months old,” Mr. Vacca said. “So beautiful you would cry to see them.”
They’re part of our future! Wait. His math is wrong. “I’m not following your math, Mr. Vacca. I’m missing thirty-two hundred somewhere.”
“Consider it a discount for a great idea,” Mr. Vacca said. “There are nine windows that have been bricked in. There are no windows behind that brick. I will remove the brick and put in the windows at my cost.”
“You will?” Why would he do that? “Mr. Vacca, you sound like a very intelligent man. Why would you do that?”
“It’s Christmas, Miss Warren. Besides, I don’t see how my grandson can make masterpieces without light, and I also want to keep the electric bill down since I’m paying it. Come to my office on Third Avenue in Gowanus and sign the papers as soon as you can, and bring that cashier’s check.”
Hope wrote furiously on some scratch paper. “Should I make the check out to Ideal Properties Group?”
“No, make it out to me. Johnny Vacca.”
What? “You own the building?”
“Yeah. My nonno used to have a shoe shop there. He made his shoes and boots from scratch. The finest leathers from around the world. Everything made by hand. He could repair any shoe good as new, and the shoes he made are still walking the streets of Brooklyn. He’d be proud to have your business there, and so will I. What will it be called?”
“Art for Kids’ Sake,” Hope said.
“Great name. You mind if I talk it up around here? There are plenty of agents here with kids, and they’re always complaining about day care costs.”
“Sure, just . . . tell them it will be affordable,” Hope said. “We haven’t set the weekly costs yet.”
“I understand, Miss Warren,” Mr. Vacca said. “I look forward to meeting you tomorrow.”
This is all so overwhelming! “I don’t know what to say, Mr. Vacca.”
“Say Merry Christmas.”
Hope smiled. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Vacca.” No “Merry Freaking Christmas” from now on for me. “And thank you so much. See you tomorrow.”
She returned the receiver to the phone.
She looked at her hands.
They weren’t shaking.
Why aren’t my hands shaking? They should be! I am about to be on a
nine-thousand-dollar-a-month lease!
No. I am about to give the man I love a dream.
Kiki returned to the store munching on a sugar bun and carrying a Golden Krust bag. She handed Hope a sugar bun and a container of fried plantains. “You need your sugar.”
Hope bit into the sugar bun. It’s still warm! Sugar! Cinnamon! “Thank you.”
Kiki raised an eyebrow as she chewed a plantain. “So this secret of yours. What can you tell me?”
“Nothing,” Hope said. “It’s a secret.”
“I brought you sugar buns and plantains,” Kiki said. “You must tell me something.”
Miss Nosy Sugar Buns is trying to bribe me with plantains and sugar buns she bought with my money. “I can’t tell you anything concrete yet,” Hope said. “There’s still more I have to do.” Tomorrow is going to be a huge day.
“You will tell me this secret eventually, yes?” Kiki asked.
“Yes.” After it has already happened. “Tomorrow I will be coming in late. Is that okay?”
“Do not sweat it,” Kiki said. “I got your back.”
Hope felt a twinge in her back. Dylan will be massaging my lower back tonight. My friend demands it.
Hope arrived after three at Kinderstuff, and the children were hard at work decorating stockings with glitter. Ramón gave her a hug, but the rest of the children ignored her because they were so intent on telling Dylan what they wanted for Christmas.
“I want a Harry Potter Lego board game . . . I want another Xbox Kinect cuz mine broke . . . I just have to have a Sing-a-ma-jig. . . a dancing Mickey Mouse . . . a unicorn pillow pet . . . I’m getting Stinky the Garbage Truck . . . My mama won’t let me have another Nerf gun cuz the cat’s scared of it . . .”
After they left, Hope leaned against a wall, pressing her hands into her back.
“You okay?” Dylan asked. “You look kind of . . . pale.”
“I had my period today,” Hope said.
“That’s . . . that’s . . .” Dylan sighed. “I don’t know if I’m supposed to say it’s great or that’s too bad.”
“It’s great, but I’m in some pain,” Hope said. “It does mean that I’m a whole woman now.” Which brings up an interesting point. “And that means,” Hope whispered, “one of us will have to provide some birth control.”
