the corner deli, and Clay got the landlady
and her husband to show him around O’Connor’s apartment and describe how they
were going to redecorate. As the magazines went away, the landlady cheered up.
“Ve never haff
cockroaches, you know.” She dug Clay in the ribs. “That’s something, in
neighborhood vit deli. Plus Mr. O’Connor vas no neatnik.”
Her husband
came up beside her and put his arm around her waist. “That certainly was
something,” he said sadly, watching the magazines go out the door in Randy’s
arms.
“Oh, you.” His
wife slapped him gently on the hand.
Jewel pushed
the moment while they weren’t fighting. “Tell me, have you been approached by
anyone else from the city about — about all this?”
The landlord
pinched his wife on the behind and she squealed. “Nope. You’re it. I’m
thinkin’,” he said to his wife, “we put the bed in this room, eh, honey? It’s
bigger and it gets more light.” He bumped his shoulder against his wife’s and
she giggled.
They got
personal. Jewel looked out the window.
Clay came
upstairs with his phone in his hand. “Ed says we can go over there tomorrow.”
“What about my
other job?” Jewel said, air-typing.
Clay shrugged,
stuffed his phone in his pocket, then did a double take at the landlord and his
wife, locked in a clinch. “Whoa.”
“Let’s give ’em
their privacy. Randy’s done here.” She led Clay downstairs. “That was interesting.
Randy isn’t scared of this stuff at all.”
“Randy’s hinky
to the bone himself,” Clay said. “Why should it scare him? Come to think of it,
that could be a decent job for him.”
“Removing
hinky stuff to disassemble pocket zones?” Jewel nibbled her lip. “I’d feel
better if I had the slightest clue how they worked or what makes ’em.” She
glanced up the stairs in the direction of the now-porn-free apartment. “Do you
suppose it’s safe for them to move in there?”
“I’m sure it
won’t hurt them,” Clay said.
Jewel wasn’t
sure at all, but she didn’t know how to find out. And she didn’t know how to
protect them without taking their home away from them.
Chapter Eight
That night,
she broached the idea of hinky-stuff removal to Randy. “You’d get on the city
payroll. The benefits are great.”
He lay under
the sheet, his schlong making a tent. He scowled. “You would make a dustman of
me.”
“What’s that?”
“One who takes
away filth. This is not a career.”
She slid under
the sheet beside him. “Nnno. But it pays. It’s safer for you to do than for
anyone else I know. Ed would sign you onto the payroll without a murmur. No
close scrutiny of your paperwork.”
“By this you
mean proof of my citizenship.”
“Right.”
“I think not,”
he said casually, turning out the light.
She sat up in
bed. “Look, it’s hazardous waste removal. That’s not garbage detail. It’s high
tech. You could charge whatever you wanted.”
“No, thank
you.”
She punched
his shoulder. “Hey! I’m trying to get you an income here!”
“Clay is
teaching me better skills.”
“Great.” She
wanted to ask what had happened to the money Clay said they’d got when he and
Randy raided the bank accounts of a serial black widow. But that whole thing
made her honest soul so crazy that she couldn’t even bring it up. Since Randy
hadn’t mentioned that money, and he was still hitting her up for cash for
clothes, she assumed it was one of Clay’s jokes. “Does he ever bother to tell
you he’s teaching you something illegal?”
“We have been
most careful.” Not the answer she’d hoped for. Randy rolled over, propping his
head on his elbow. “Currently I am earning micropayments from a pay-to-read
company. I worked out the algorithm for the click-bot,” he added proudly.
Internet
wasn’t her expertise, but it sounded crooked. “And this pays what?”
“So far it earns
in the realm of twelve dollars a day.”
She threw up
her hands.
and her husband to show him around O’Connor’s apartment and describe how they
were going to redecorate. As the magazines went away, the landlady cheered up.
“Ve never haff
cockroaches, you know.” She dug Clay in the ribs. “That’s something, in
neighborhood vit deli. Plus Mr. O’Connor vas no neatnik.”
Her husband
came up beside her and put his arm around her waist. “That certainly was
something,” he said sadly, watching the magazines go out the door in Randy’s
arms.
“Oh, you.” His
wife slapped him gently on the hand.
Jewel pushed
the moment while they weren’t fighting. “Tell me, have you been approached by
anyone else from the city about — about all this?”
The landlord
pinched his wife on the behind and she squealed. “Nope. You’re it. I’m
thinkin’,” he said to his wife, “we put the bed in this room, eh, honey? It’s
bigger and it gets more light.” He bumped his shoulder against his wife’s and
she giggled.
They got
personal. Jewel looked out the window.
Clay came
upstairs with his phone in his hand. “Ed says we can go over there tomorrow.”
“What about my
other job?” Jewel said, air-typing.
Clay shrugged,
stuffed his phone in his pocket, then did a double take at the landlord and his
wife, locked in a clinch. “Whoa.”
“Let’s give ’em
their privacy. Randy’s done here.” She led Clay downstairs. “That was interesting.
Randy isn’t scared of this stuff at all.”
“Randy’s hinky
to the bone himself,” Clay said. “Why should it scare him? Come to think of it,
that could be a decent job for him.”
“Removing
hinky stuff to disassemble pocket zones?” Jewel nibbled her lip. “I’d feel
better if I had the slightest clue how they worked or what makes ’em.” She
glanced up the stairs in the direction of the now-porn-free apartment. “Do you
suppose it’s safe for them to move in there?”
“I’m sure it
won’t hurt them,” Clay said.
Jewel wasn’t
sure at all, but she didn’t know how to find out. And she didn’t know how to
protect them without taking their home away from them.
Chapter Eight
That night,
she broached the idea of hinky-stuff removal to Randy. “You’d get on the city
payroll. The benefits are great.”
He lay under
the sheet, his schlong making a tent. He scowled. “You would make a dustman of
me.”
“What’s that?”
“One who takes
away filth. This is not a career.”
She slid under
the sheet beside him. “Nnno. But it pays. It’s safer for you to do than for
anyone else I know. Ed would sign you onto the payroll without a murmur. No
close scrutiny of your paperwork.”
“By this you
mean proof of my citizenship.”
“Right.”
“I think not,”
he said casually, turning out the light.
She sat up in
bed. “Look, it’s hazardous waste removal. That’s not garbage detail. It’s high
tech. You could charge whatever you wanted.”
“No, thank
you.”
She punched
his shoulder. “Hey! I’m trying to get you an income here!”
“Clay is
teaching me better skills.”
“Great.” She
wanted to ask what had happened to the money Clay said they’d got when he and
Randy raided the bank accounts of a serial black widow. But that whole thing
made her honest soul so crazy that she couldn’t even bring it up. Since Randy
hadn’t mentioned that money, and he was still hitting her up for cash for
clothes, she assumed it was one of Clay’s jokes. “Does he ever bother to tell
you he’s teaching you something illegal?”
“We have been
most careful.” Not the answer she’d hoped for. Randy rolled over, propping his
head on his elbow. “Currently I am earning micropayments from a pay-to-read
company. I worked out the algorithm for the click-bot,” he added proudly.
Internet
wasn’t her expertise, but it sounded crooked. “And this pays what?”
“So far it earns
in the realm of twelve dollars a day.”
She threw up
her hands.
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