Lee Playground

1. Auflage 2020
ISBN: 978-1-0983-0041-8
Verlag: BookBaby
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 340 Seiten

The Playground follows the life of Anna Reed: Wife, mother, and small business owner in a quaint Philadelphia suburb. To alleviate a financial crisis, Anna finds herself diving over a moral line that creates a network of moms who transport cocaine in diaper bags; the cocaine in the guise of baby formula.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Lee, Michelle

Leseproben

Chapter Three

Six weeks later as autumn fleeted and winter loomed, I packed up my life in Utah, including my Labsized mutt, Polo, and moved it into an apartment in Philadelphia’s Old City district, one mile from the Kahn & Hague building.

“You sure you’ll be okay?” I had asked my parents as I sat on the couch with them before leaving. My mother shared the same tired expression she had for as long as I could remember, though since Dad’s accident, the lines ran deeper. Her hands had the gnarled wear of one who works three jobs.

My dad reached his thin hand out and I squeezed it tenderly. “Of course we’ll be okay,” he said in a sure voice. My mother’s languid nod concurred.

“I can’t wait for you to come visit,” I said. But we all knew they wouldn’t be visiting any time soon, if ever. One consolation was that my move to Philadelphia came with a two-level promotion and a substantial pay increase, which meant I could send money home to help with some expenses. I’d love to help Mom quit that waitressing job.

It was just before Christmas, and I had three free days between my last working day in Utah and my first working day in Philadelphia. I put off unpacking, and instead took Polo out to explore the city. The city was laced with lit snowflakes, bustling patrons, and plumes of sugar and cinnamon.

I routed my walk to the Kahn & Hague building, timing how long it would take and which streets to avoid. I noted the coffee shops along the route and took pleasure trying each barista’s version of soy chai latte before choosing the one that would become my regular. I found a little grocery store and stocked up on a few essential items.

My first evening in Philadelphia, I met Kam. A tall, shiny-skinned black man sat smoking a cigarette on the patio I shared with my upstairs neighbors as I arrived back at my apartment with Polo. With a wide grin, he exclaimed, “You must be our new neighbor!” He held the gate open while I walked in.

“Yes, I’m Anna.”

“I am Kam!” he exclaimed with a loud, deep, smooth, accented voice that I couldn’t place.

“Pleasure to meet you, Kam. You live upstairs?”

“Yes, me and Angelique,” he said, staccato-like. “You will meet her. You will love her. As long as you’re not offended by loud, temperamental Lithuanian women, that is.” He laughed at his comment, clapping his hands together loudly before taking an elegant drag of his cigarette. I couldn’t stop staring at how beautiful his skin was.

“Who is this, then?” he asked, holding his hands out to Polo.

Polo lurched eagerly for Kam to scratch his ears. Polo playfully growled and jumped up on Kam, who took his front paws and bear-hugged him.

“This is Polo,” I laughed.

“You must come for dinner. Both of you,” he said. “Thursday night. It is my night off. We are having some friends over. It will be a welcome to the neighborhood party, although none of our neighbors will be there. I can’t say Angelique and I win on being social. Not here at least.”

I knew the feeling. I worked too much to be social. “I look forward to it.”

I said goodnight, and Polo said goodbye with a lick to Kam’s hand. I couldn’t help but feel like an astronaut who just found life on another planet: I had made a friend in a foreign place, and it made me feel as high as the moon.

My first day at Kahn & Hague arrived. Bob Linden walked me to my desk.

“Hope you’re adjusting to Philadelphia?” Bob asked nervously as we strolled past cubicles in the center of the floor; large offices lined the perimeter. He stopped in front of a small office on one of the inner walls. “This is you.”

I hid my surprise at being granted an office, a real office with a name plaque outside the door. It was windowless and had paint the color of gravy, but it was an office, and it was mine.

“It’s perfect.”

“Great, well, uh, if you need anything, Cyndi can order you supplies or whatnot.” He pointed to a woman typing at a cubicle.

“I think I can manage. I had most of my stuff shipped. Is it here?” I looked around, then noticed my two boxes sitting on the floor beside my desk.

“Okay then, I’ll let you be. IT should be sending someone to set up your passwords and all that. Oh, and I almost forgot: I asked a colleague, Kelly, to show you around Philly today. Like a little tour, I guess,” Bob shrugged.

“That sounds great. Thanks Bob.”

Bob left. I picked up one of the boxes and started taking out items, putting them in their new spots. A young man with piercings came to set up my networks, and I spent the day settling in.

Kelly Malan poked her head into my office around 1 pm. She was my age, mid-20s, attractive, with short, white-blonde hair and blue eyes. She was wearing a black lace top with a black skirt and red heels. “Hey. I’m Kelly. You’re Anna?” she asked as she stood in my doorway.

“Yeah, I’m Anna. Nice to meet you, Kelly. Bob tells me you got the shit job of taking the new girl around town?”

“Shit job? No! This got me out of a meeting that made me want to stick a steak knife in my eye. Ready?” Kelly tapped the side of the door.

I laughed as I grabbed my coat and purse.

Kelly and I took the elevator to the B2 floor, which required a special badge to access, two stories underground. A parking attendant met us off the elevator. Kelly gave him a white card and he disappeared around the corner. Moments later, screeching tires echoed off the walls and the headlights of a small white minivan with a Kahn & Hague door logo appeared and slowed to a park in front of us.

Kelly snorted. “I haven’t driven in three years and they give me a minivan? This will be fun.”

We got into the minivan and exited the parking lot to a cold, but sunny Philadelphia day.

“You haven’t driven in three years?” I asked. “Is it because you just don’t like driving?” In Utah, if you didn’t drive, usually it was because you lost your license for a reason that you were not proud of.

“Nah, my fiancé and I have lived in the city for four years. Three years ago, our car broke down and we didn’t bother getting a new one. Haven’t missed it. Everything we need is a walk or train ride away. By the way, that’s the department store they filmed Mannequin in,” Kelly said while pointing to a beautiful white building with a grand entrance. “The other big white building ahead is City Hall.”

“Who’s that statue on top of City Hall?” I asked.

“I actually don’t know. I’m from Pittsburgh and I hate history. I’m seriously the worst person to give you a tour. But Bob insisted, saying I was the only person at Kahn & Hague who was close to your age. The people there are fucking dinosaurs.”

I laughed as she rounded the turn next to City Hall. I knew the statue was William Penn, founder of Philadelphia, but I wasn’t about to reveal that, or that I loved history and read historical biographies for fun. I was hoping to make my second friend in Philadelphia and being a straight-A new kid didn’t seem likely to win people over.

“Where do you and your fiancé live?” I asked.

“In the Art Museum District. We’ll drive by. Are you living downtown? Or somewhere else?”

“I have an apartment on Front and Callowhill.” I shrugged my shoulders as if to say I don’t know if that’s bad or good?

“Oh, in Old City. I like Old City. Great bar down there called Mission Fig. They have good live music—not novice crap—good acoustic artists. The bartender is good there, too, Jason. And he’s beautiful. Like Johnny Depp-beautiful.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I smiled.

“The men in this city are going to love you.” She scanned my body indifferently. “You don’t look like a typical Philadelphian.” Whatever that meant. “That’s not a bad thing, by the way,” she continued. “You just have more of an exotic look. That’s not your real hair color, right?”

I grabbed at a strand of my hair. “No, I highlight it.”

Something about Kelly made me feel instantly comfortable; her vibe was warm and genuine. She seemed the type who wasn’t interested in frivolous gossip or weekend friends. I was somewhat of a loner in Utah by design and even the friends I had were not great friends. They were boring and prudish and mostly married.

“What does that mean anyway, Old City? Is that a good part of the city to live in?” I asked.

“Oh yeah. Old City is a little more artsy. Less commercial. It’s the more historic part of Philadelphia, where all the old history people lived, like the lady who made the flag.” Betsy Ross, I said in my head.

“Then there’s Center City,” she rambled,...