Manhattan Mission

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Manhattan Mission Page 4

by Darrel Bird

on the wall. He stared at the list that was in gold letters until he found what he was looking for. Global Corp Presidential Suite was displayed in large gold and silver lettering. Apparently, the office took up the entire twentieth floor.

  He hit the button on the elevator, and waited. The three people that were going up gave him strange looks, they were in five hundred dollar suits, and him looking like he freshly rode out of hell. The people stood packed against the other side of the elevator from him, and when they reached their floors, sighed a sigh of relief as they exited the elevator.

  He was alone the last few floors, and he smelled under his arms just before the elevator stopped.

  He walked up to another counter. The girl behind the counter would have had a beautiful face if it wasn’t for her lightly bucked teeth, and teeth were his specialty.

  “I need to see the president of Global Corp.” He announced to the girl. He saw her hand reach under the counter, “It will be just a few minutes sir.” She said, smiling at him.

  He leaned against the tall counter to wait. He asked, “Have you been working here long?”

  “It will be just a minute sir.”

  The statement sounded strange to him and as he turned toward her, two armed guards approached behind him, grabbed his arms, and penned them behind him. He felt, and heard the cuffs click.

  “Come on punk!” One of the guards said as they drug him toward the elevators. A pretty woman walked up. She had a leather satchel in her hand.

  “Why is this man cuffed?”

  “Just taking out the trash Ma’am.”

  “I’ll take responsibility for him, remove the hand cuffs please.”

  “Just make sure he gets out.”

  They unshackled him as the elevator doors opened, and they shoved him into the elevator. She walked into the elevator behind him, and he turned to look at her, “Thanks.” He said as he rubbed his wrist.

  “You don’t know me Bobby?”

  “Should I?”

  “Trudy…Trudy Lund from down the street…you do remember high school don’t you? I knew you, even under that beard.”

  Preacher looked at her, “Wow! You’ve changed.”

  “Why were you up here?” She asked.

  “It’s a long story.”

  “I have a few minutes, let's get a cup of coffee across the street, and you can tell me about it.”

  “I guess I could do that.” The elevator dinged for the bottom floor, and as the door opened he couldn’t help but stare at the most gorgeous girl he had ever seen. She exited the elevator with such grace she seemed to glide across the floor.

  They crossed the street to a rather busy coffee shop, and was able to find a table in the very back of the shop. He held the chair for her as she sat down.

  As they sat, and waited for someone to bring them coffee, he told her about the mission, and about Global Corp acquiring the property. After he finished he asked her, “What were you doing up there?”

  “I’m an attorney for the Ballard Law firm.”

  “An attorney? Wow!” All of a sudden he felt awkward as a high school kid on his first date. “Ballard Law…so you’re in with the big boys.”

  “Yes, and I may be able to help you. Global Corp doesn’t own Ballard. Say, how’s your Mom Bobby? Does she still live in the old neighborhood?”

  “Same place, I’m staying with her since I quit the club. Hows your folks?”

  “Mom, and Dad were killed while they were on vacation in Mexico…plane crash…I still live in the house.”

  “I’m so sorry about your folks Trudy; I really am.”

  “Took me a while to adjust, I used the insurance money to go to law school at Princeton.”

  The waiter finally brought their coffee, and as she sipped her coffee, he stared at her perfect complexion, “Why are you staring at me Bobby?”

  “Sorry, I’m just not used to being around a woman as pretty as you.”

  She blushed, “Surely you have lots of girls Bobby.” She smiled at him.

  “No…no one. My life has been in a kind of a mess.” He didn’t tell her about the drug running, and he hoped he would never have too. He felt he shouldn’t even be around this woman, and he wanted to flee, but a power that he was not familiar with held him to his seat.

  She swallowed the last of her coffee, “I have to get back to the office Bobby, but I want to see this mission of yours. Here’s my card, can you call me tonight? We can set a date to go down there.”

  “You sure you want to go down there?”

  “If I’m going to try to help you, I have to see what this is all about. You’ll call me won’t you?”

  “Yes, I’ll call.”

  She picked up her leather satchel, and walked out the door, and he stood, and watched her go, “Get hold of yourself Preacher; she's not for you, and never will be.” He mumbled to himself as he re-crossed the street to his bike.

  The next evening she pulled her car up behind his bike, as he was waiting for her outside the mission, “Just in time, I have all the pots, and pans done, but I still have to do a walk through. I have to warn you; this place don’t smell the greatest, but it will give you an idea of what this place is about. Just follow along.”

  He led the way into the dingy lighted sleeping area, and as they went up and down the Isles various people asked Preacher to pray for them. It took them about 45 minutes to make the round, and as they emerged back into the well-lighted kitchen area, he could see she had tears in her eyes, “Where do all these people come from Bobby?”

  “They come off the streets; they are the homeless, the cast offs of a society that really doesn’t give a crap about them. Pretty much of a shock to see’em in one place ain’t it?”

  “If Global Corp tears the place down, where will they go?”

  “They’ll have to sleep on the streets, in ally’s, under bridges, or wherever they can find a place to lay down at night. That’s why I was up there, but all I got was cuffed and stuffed as you saw.”

  “I never figured you for this kind of work Bobby.” She looked strangely at him.

  “Well, I never figured me for it neither, I was in the process of pulling Banger's teeth when a voice inside my head asked me what I was doing. I think it was God.

  “You’re not a dentist are you?”

  “Right.”

  “What did you say to him?”

  “I didn’t say nothin’, I didn’t know who it was doing the asking, I kind of had to figure it out on my own, but it was him alright. I quit the club, and here I am.”

  “Washing pots, and pans, and caring for the homeless.”

  “Right.”

  “I see. Say, would you like to take me to dinner?” She looked up at him.

  “I ain’t dressed to take someone like you to dinner, and this is all I got to wear.”

  “Ok, well, I’ll take you to dinner then, can we ride your bike?”

  “You want to ride my bike to dinner?” He looked at her amazed.

  “Yes. I know a quiet little Italian place on 139th street.”

  “Well, we'd better leave your car at your house, if we leave it here, it’ll be in a chop shop, by the time we get back. I’ll follow you to your place.”

  He followed her to her house, which was just down the block from his mother's apartment, “Come on in while I change into some jeans. Those will be more suitable to ride.”

  He sat in the living room and memories of his childhood days came flooding back, as he looked around the room. She emerged in a few minutes in a pair of regular jeans, and white blouse with a jean jacket.

  “This place hasn’t changed much since we were in the 7th grade.”

  “I was so busy with law school, and then the job and I kind of grew into liking it the way Mom had it.”

  “I like this.” She said, above the noise of the pipes, and the wind as they rode his bike to the restaurant.

  When they walked in there were just three couples seated, and she walked to a table in th
e very back, and sat down. The little place blended a scene of privacy with the smell of old world Italian sauces emanating from the kitchen. The waiter brought them a menu, and asked what they would like to drink, “Wine for me.” She said.

  “I’ll take coffee.” Preacher said, as he looked apologetic at her, “I’m not drinking anything alcohol these days.”

  “That’s ok, bring us two coffee’s.”

  “I want to try to help Bobby.”

  “Why?”

  The waiter brought them the coffee, and then stood poised with his pad, “I’ll take the house salad.” She said.

  “Bring me spaghetti; I can’t live off rabbit food.” Preacher said, and the waiter turned and left.

  “Why do you want to help Trudy?”

  “How can I not try to help?”

  “Yeah, I get that.”

  They talked about the old neighborhood, and before he knew it, the dinner was over, and since he couldn’t think of a valid excuse for keeping them there, he swallowed the last of his coffee. They arrived back at her house all too soon for Preacher, as he walked her to the door, and bid her goodnight.

  The next few days were busy for Preacher as he studied his bible, and helped Pastor Bill at the mission. He scanned the paper for a job, but soon found there was no work for

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