The Lights of Tenth Street (44 page)

Only Marco didn’t smile. “Yes, of course.” He hesitated. “Although I’ll say it again, Glenn … I don’t like her being so close to the action. It’s fine using the key girls to compromise someone. It’s quite another thing to use them as a reward for loyal service. This girl is smarter than you think. I worry that she’ll stumble onto—”

“Marco, Marco.” Tyson slapped him on the back, hard. His face and tone were jovial, but his eyes carried a clear warning. “No need to worry so much. Besides, our friends here didn’t come to talk about Glenn’s love life.”

More chuckles, and Marco backed off. They didn’t want to hear it; fine. But he wasn’t comfortable with the arrangement. At some point, it might force some hard decisions—decisions he would hate to make.

“So what was it like last night?” Maris was leaning on the bar, her tray empty as she waited for the influx of evening customers. She was smacking some gum—strictly against the rules—and pumping Ronnie for the dish on the prior night’s event.

“It was … rich. You could practically see the money dripping off the ficus trees. The reception had the best food, the best drinks. And of course, no expense was spared in their big presentation of the prototype. It was all high-tech razzle-dazzle.”

Maris scowled. “And while we have a recession on! Probably for some product that will only make a difference to a handful of rich folks, too.”

“Not really. It’s actually really cool.
I
want one.”

“What is it again?”

“It’s this—” Ronnie made squared-off movements with her hands. “It’s this sort of box thing that you hook to your television set and program your voice into. Or they have these designer ones that sit on your coffee table and have pretty designs on them, so you can use them as an accent in the room. With this box, you never need to go looking for your remote control … it does it all by voice. You can just talk, and it recognizes your voice and does whatever you say. Really cool. They’re ramping up production right now, and it should be out on shelves before Christmas. Everyone’s going to want one! One of the big magazines apparently said it was going to be
the
hot thing this year.”

“I guess I can see why.” Maris gave a grudging shrug, then looked to where a small group had just come in. “Well, time to go to work. No more loafing!” She waved a finger at Ronnie. “Go on, now. You’ll distract these men from my work.”

Late that night, Ronnie snuggled against Glenn in the car as they headed back toward his condo. He had a house on a lake, but generally spent his weeknights at
the condo near his corporate headquarters.

“Babe, do you mind if we stop by the office? I need to get some stuff out of the factory.”

“That’s fine.” Ronnie tried to hide a mighty yawn.

“Thanks. Sorry. I know you have school tomorrow.”

“That’s okay.” Ronnie tried to sound chipper. “I’m up for anything.”

He rubbed his hand along her arm and leered sideways. “You always are.”

Glenn pulled through the security gates and parked. There were a surprising number of cars for three in the morning. “Come on in.”

“Can I?”

“Sure. Just don’t tell anyone. It’s strictly off-limits to outsiders. Security, you know.” He made a face. “Everything is so security-paranoid these days. But I have a few ways around the system.”

Glenn walked straight up to a security desk, while Ronnie hung back. He greeted the security guard with a whispered instruction. The guard looked over his shoulder, met Ronnie’s eye, and whispered something back. Both men snickered.

Glenn came over and took her arm, leading her toward a security station labeled “guest entrance.” “I have an understanding with some of the night guards. They ask no questions, let my personal guests pass without having to sign them in, and they not only get to keep their jobs but get generous bonuses at the end of the year. Works like a charm.”

The gate in front of Ronnie buzzed, allowing her to pass through. She raised an eyebrow as the guard averted his gaze. “I can see that.”

Glenn grabbed her hand and hustled down a long corridor until they were out of the guard’s sight.

At the end of the corridor, they were greeted by a set of double doors, armed by a keypad. Glenn punched in a code, and the doors swung open without a noise.

Ronnie looked around and felt her lips parting in astonishment. They were in a massive room with a bare concrete floor and a ceiling that soared at least forty feet. Giant pieces of machinery were bolted into the floor on every side, dwarfing them. The room was dark, the equipment silent and still, but far to the right, beyond a massive wall, Ronnie could hear the muffled roar of machinery and see light blazing out from under several broad doors. The shadows of dozens of feet moved back and forth in the light beyond the wall.

“The night shift.” Glenn took her arm. “Come on. I’ve got to pick something up.”

He steered her away from the activity and toward one of the many windowed offices that looked out on the rest of the factory floor. Ronnie realized that the light
was on and there were two men inside, deep in conversation.

Glenn halted in the shadowy hall. He dropped Ronnie’s hand and glanced around.

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh,” his laugh sounded strained, “some of my managers appear to be working late. And technically I shouldn’t have brought you here. I always tell
them
it’s against the rules.” He gave her an apologetic shrug.

“What, you want me to hide?” Ronnie was joking, but Glenn nodded.

“Would you?” He backtracked, trying the doors of several other offices. All had windows and all were dark and locked. Glenn produced a master key and opened a door for her. He pointed to a chair beside a small desk. “If you stay in here, stay seated, and keep the lights off, no one will notice you.”

He closed the door, and Ronnie sank into the chair with a sigh. She kicked off her shoes, rubbed her aching feet, and thought how quickly the morning would come. Maybe she’d skip class.

Her stockinged foot brushed against something hard on the floor. She tried to push out of the way with her foot, but it was too heavy. Yawning, Ronnie looked closer. It looked like that prototype television remote control thing the company was manufacturing.

She reached down and hefted it to the desk, surprised to discover that one whole side of the device was missing. A back panel gaped open, revealing a mass of internal circuits and parts. Several wires trailed from the jumble, onto the desk.

She poked at them, hoping she wouldn’t electrocute herself, and one moved, loose in her hand. She grimaced, thinking she’d broken something, but then realized that the wire was attached to a rectangular black part that was loose inside the larger jumble. It was heavy, smooth like a spare battery from a laptop computer, and had several wires running from it.

A massive yawn escaped her lips and she pushed the part back into the jumble then set the whole device aside, laying her head on her arms, trying to get comfortable. She thought she would be asleep in ten seconds flat, but the presence of the black box on the desk kept impinging on her brain. Finally, she sat up, exasperated at her own fastidiousness, and moved the heavy device to the floor again. Despite Glenn’s tendency to think
he
was allowed to bend every rule to his own purpose, she had noticed that he didn’t extend others the same leeway. Maybe it was better that he not think she’d been snooping.

She put the box back where it had started, and gratefully laid her head down again.

She was awakened by a hand on her shoulder, and jumped. Glenn was standing
over her, his eyes gleaming in the darkness.

“You scared me!” Ronnie put a hand to her heart. “Don’t
do
that.”

“Sorry it took me so long, babe. The managers had a few questions.”

“Doesn’t anyone
sleep
in this company?”

“Nope. That’s why we make so much money. Let’s go.” He rubbed her shoulder, bare in her summer dress, his fingers lingering.

As Glenn ushered her into the car, clearly eager to get home to his condo, she set her mind to completing the task ahead. At least now she was being properly compensated for what had always been taken from her, by persuasion or force, with no thought for her feelings. It was as good an arrangement as any.

T
he hallways were crowded with students as Ronnie darted out of the classroom, a blue book test clutched in her hand. On the cover was a red-circled A- and the word “Congratulations!” Her finals were done, and she had a whole week before fall classes started.

One semester down … about one hundred more to go.

She ran down the stairs and hesitated for a moment on the landing to the admissions office wing, then pushed through the door. The admissions office secretary was gone from behind the desk, but the admissions director came out with an inquiring look, and his face broke into a grin.

“Ronnie, good to see you. You need more help with those financial aid people?”

“No. It turns out that because my mom’s not divorced yet, Seth still needs to sign all the bank forms. And of course he absolutely refuses, which puts me right back where I started. So I’m stuck paying my own way for another semester. Hopefully, by spring semester it’ll all be resolved and I can get one of those scholarships.”

“I can’t believe it’s taking this long,” Mr. Woodward said. “We’ve got to get the board to revisit those requirements and give us some flexibility for cases like yours.”

Ronnie nodded, but she really didn’t care that much anymore. She was rolling in cash, courtesy of both Glenn and the club. It would be nice to not have to work most school nights, though. Once she got her scholarship, she could probably cut back to just Friday and Saturday nights.

The familiar figures flashed across her brain. The scholarship would probably pay her full tuition plus some living expenses. Then two nights at the club—plus what Glenn continued to give her—would be more than enough to cover a basic lifestyle. She made a rueful face. Of course, her idea of “basic” had changed radically in the last six months, and she wasn’t all that willing to give it up. Plus, she told herself, she needed to keep sending money to her mom.

“So, what can I do for you?” Mr. Woodward was staring at her, a curious look on his face.

Ronnie started, and brought herself back to the present. “Sorry, I was just thinking about the money stuff again.” She felt suddenly shy. “Actually, it wasn’t anything you could do for me … it’s just that you’ve already done so much for me,
and I wanted … I wanted to show you this.”

She held out her test booklet, cover facing him.

“Aw, Ronnie, that’s great.” He gave her a hug, then released her quickly, stepping back. “That’s just great. What’s the final tally?”

“Two A minuses, one B plus.”

“Good for you! Congratulations.”

“Yeah, it looks like I’ll be around to bother you for the next year, at least.”

“Never a bother, Ronnie. Listen, I’ve been meaning to give you something for a few weeks now. Hold on a second.”

He disappeared into his office. Ronnie was so used to men reappearing with expensive gifts in their hands that she was mildly disappointed to see him carrying a simple flyer. He handed it over.

“I thought you might be interested in this talk. Our church always does a back-to-school thing for students. They set up sort of a festival with displays on different topics—how to budget your time, what software might help you the most …” A fleeting grin crossed his face. “How to apply for financial aid.

“There’s a lot more that’s relevant to the church, too. Some resources for students who have a tough time finding their way spiritually, that sort of thing. Anyway, they kick off the night by serving a great dinner, and there’s a pep talk for the whole group by one or two speakers who know the college scene.” He shrugged. “I’m one of the speakers this year.”

He gestured to the flyer. “Take a look; it’s next weekend. My wife and I would love to have you join us, if you’re interested.”

Ronnie stared at the page, then stowed the paper in her pocket. “I probably can’t get off work, but it sounds interesting. I’ll ask. You never know.”

“Really? You don’t mind?” Ronnie stared at Marco, eyebrows raised.

“I think we can get someone to cover for you. You rarely take a night off, and I think it might be good for you. You need to go lighten up, do something fun for a change.”

“What?” Ronnie tossed her head. “You don’t think I’m having fun with Glenn?”

“You know what I mean. Something that’s not work. I just want to make sure our top moneymaker doesn’t crash under the stress of work
and
school. If this—” he gestured at the paper Ronnie held “this church thing can help somehow, I’m all for it.”

“Thanks, chief.” Ronnie left the room and headed back toward the dressing room. He was just full of surprises.

“Ronnie, this is my wife.” Mr. Woodward made the introductions, hugging his wife to his side on the church sidewalk. “Jo, meet Ronnie, one of our Georgia State students.”

Ronnie shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Woodward.”