***
On one of my days off I decided to make some phone calls to some old friends. I contacted Will, but he was not home. I then called my friend, Darrell.
“Yo, Darrell, how’s it going, man?” I asked.
“I’m still workin’ on the oil rigs.”
“Oh yeah, how’s that going?”
“It’s a rough life; I think I need a change.”
“Yeah, I hear ya, man. I think I’m at the end of my rope with the whole Banff thing.”
“Why don’t we move to Vancouver? We can get a place together,” he suggested.
“What’s in Vancouver?” I asked.
“My dad lives there, we can stay with him for a while until we get on our feet.”
I had briefly met his dad once before, but I doubted if he remembered me. I contemplated Darrell’s proposal, I was reminded of how I ended up in Banff in the first place. A chance phone call presented an opportunity and I took advantage of it. Now a new opportunity had presented itself. If I said ‘no’ to this opportunity, I would also be saying ‘no’ to the infinite string of possibilities that would follow from it.
“Okay, let’s do it,” I said.
He gave me his dad’s phone number and told me to call him when I arrived in Vancouver.
I immediately informed my work that I was leaving town. I packed up all my things and said my goodbyes. My plan was to take the Greyhound down to Vancouver, but as luck would have it, my roommate Dave was coincidentally going to Vancouver at the same time and offered me a ride.
When the day finally came to leave, I put the few possessions I had into Dave’s two-thousand dollar car and we made our exit.
C H A P T E R
E I G H T
By the time we arrived in Vancouver, it was a little after 11:00 p.m. The rain was coming down pretty hard and Dave’s windshield wipers were doing the very least to disperse the water. Neither one of us had ever been to Vancouver before, so we pulled into a gas station in East Vancouver before we became too lost. Dave parked, but kept the engine running. I exited the vehicle and tiptoed through a large puddle that surrounded the car. The rain was relentless, but did nothing to wash away the sleaze that inhabited the phone booth. It actually enhanced the smell of urine and dirty concrete. Regardless of my discomfort, I had no choice but to press on.
Once in the phone booth, I wiped my soaked forehead, inserted a quarter, and dialed the number Darrell had given me. The phone rang a few times and I waited patiently. After the fifth ring, a pit welled up in my stomach as I started to worry. By the tenth ring, I hung up the phone and tried not to panic. I looked back at Dave, who was still sitting in the car. Dave was staying with one of his friends and still needed to figure out how to get there.
I took the quarter out of the coin release tray and inserted it back into the phone. I carefully dialed the number again and took a deep breath. It started to ring again. This time, on the second ring, a low-pitched gravelly voice answered.
“Hello?” the voice said.
“Hello, is this Mr. Channing?” I asked meekly.
“Yes, who is this?”
“Hi, Mr. Channing, my name is Trevor Morrison, I’m friends with your son, Darrell. He told me to call you when I was in town,” I paused as if I had just cast out a lure and was waiting for a bite.
“Darrell is not here.”
“Oh, okay, um, did he mention anything to you about me coming to stay with you?”
“I received a call from Darrell the other day, and he mentioned something about you and him staying with us for a while. But Darrell has not arrived yet.”
“Okay, well, I’m in Vancouver right now using a payphone at a gas station and was kind of counting on him being there,” I cast out another line.
“I’m so sorry about that, Trevor, why don’t you come on over, you can stay here until Darrell arrives. I’ll call him in the morning.”
I quickly jotted down the address and jumped back into the car.
“Did you get an address?” Dave asked.
“Yeah, he lives at 1755 West 41st Street. Do you know where that is?” I asked.
“No I don’t,” Dave said.
“Okay, well, I can take a cab from here Dave,” I said, trying to be as considerate as possible.
“That’s okay, I took you this far, I may as well take you the rest of the way.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, no problem.”
“Okay, thanks. Let’s see, we’re on East 16th Avenue. I think if we just keep driving down this street, it will eventually turn into West 16th Avenue. Then we can continue to drive in the direction that the blocks increase in number.”
We finally arrived at Mr. Channing’s modest house in an upper scale neighborhood. When we pulled up, he was waiting for me at the edge of the garage in his housecoat. The garage door was open to reveal two Mercedes Benzes along with some other typical garage clutter.
I gave Mr. Channing a wave and unloaded my stuff from Dave’s car.
“Alright, man, this is it,” I said to Dave as we shook hands. “Thanks so much, brother, I really appreciate it.”
Dave pulled away from the driveway and drove off. I knew I would probably never see him again.
“Hi, Mr. Channing, thank you so much for allowing me to stay with you. I’m sorry for calling you so late.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, as he welcomed me into his home. I followed him downstairs to the basement.
“This is where you will be sleeping. There are blankets and towels there, and you can use that bathroom down the hall.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“Are you hungry, do you want something to eat or drink?”
“No, thank you, I’m fine.”
“Alright then, I’m going back to bed. The alarm will be on so don’t open any doors or windows. If you get hot, the control for the air conditioner is over there.”
Mr. Channing was being very nice, going out of his way to make me feel comfortable. When he left, I hit the lights and laid down on the couch. I could hear his footsteps creak throughout the quiet house. I followed the sound all the way up to his bedroom, which was located on the second level. As he got further away, the sound was replaced by the pitter-patter of rain hitting the porch in the backyard.
I laid there for a moment in the dark room, my eyes still open. I looked around to get acquainted with my new environment. There was a small television, a bathroom, and some exercise equipment. It seemed a bit odd to me that I was in a city I had never been before and was laying on someone’s couch that could easily be a complete stranger. I could not wait for what my life was going to bring me next.
It was the end of a long day and I was exhausted, so I closed my eyes and fell asleep.
The Art of the Hustle Page 7