The Darkness - Jason Pinter [35]
with a perfect stranger next to him on whom Morgan's
future might well depend, this was most definitely not the
direction Morgan had expected his life to take.
This was not too much to ask, Morgan thought. Everything was going perfectly until the economy went
downhill faster than an Olympic skier and soon he was
out on his ass with thousands of other men just like him.
Men with GPAs in the high threes, impeccable references
and several internships and jobs from which they could
draw experience. Even if (and this was an if the size of
the Grand Canyon) a job opened up, it would be like
trying to get a drink at a hot bar at one in the morning.
Thousands of people pushing and shoving like barbarians
to get the attention of one person. Was one resume really
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better than the other? It didn't matter. But Morgan had
Chester. Good old Chester.
"Anything stand out to you?" Chester said as they
passed through midtown.
"Um...it's a nice day?" Morgan said, not sure what
Chester was getting at.
Chester smiled. "It is that. But look at the streets.
Notice anything?"
"Uh, not really."
"Not really," Chester said. "Exactly what I noticed."
"Wait, what do you mean?"
"These streets, they used to teem with professionals. It's
lunch hour and you can count the suits on two hands. What
is the financial workforce down, ten, twenty percent?"
"At least," Morgan said.
"These streets used to mean something," Chester said,
his voice almost wistful, making Morgan wonder if Chester
had ever held a job here. His attitude and dress were corporate all the way, but he was loose enough to hang with
the boys at a steak house or strip joint. Morgan's guess was
that Chester was in upper management, the kind of guy
everyone else reported to who could act with a little disregard. The kind of guy Morgan couldn't be...yet.
"Did you know," Chester continued, "that over a hundred thousand people have lost their jobs in this city in
the last two years? I mean, Christ, think about it. Think
about how many of those hundred thousand used to work
here," he said, gesturing to the towering skyscrapers that
housed floors and floors of seasoned pros. "Think how
many of them used to walk these streets. And now think
about how many of them are sitting at home right now,
watching their savings dwindle, waiting for one call that
probably won't come."
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Chester looked out the window as he said those last
words, but Morgan could tell they were directed at him.
Talking about many like him. Morgan stayed quiet.
Didn't want Chester to know what he was thinking.
"Think how many of those people," Chester continued,
"would give anything for the chance to replace that income." He stopped. Looked at Morgan. "And then some.
What would you do for that chance?"
Morgan's eyes met Chester's directly. Without hesitation, he said, "Anything."
"We'll see."
13
"I, uh...I think I'll go check my mail," Pam said.
Abigail looked at her and said nothing. Paulina said,
"That's not a bad idea. If you wouldn't mind giving us a
few minutes."
"She doesn't have to do anything she doesn't want to,"
Abigail said, her eyes burning a hole through her mother.
"No, she doesn't. That's why I'm asking. And," Paulina said, digging into her pocketbook and producing a
twenty-dollar bill, "I'll pay for her next beer run."
"Classy, mom," Abigail said. She sighed, looked at
Pam. "This won't take more than fifteen minutes."
"Half an hour," Paulina said. Abigail looked at her
mother as though no greater torture had ever been imposed upon man or beast. Paulina stared right back.
"Fine. Half an hour. And take the money."
"I really shouldn't..." Pam said.
Abigail continued, "Trust me. It doesn't begin to cover
what she owes me."
Pam reluctantly took the money and left the room,
leaving Paulina and Abigail alone.
"Can we talk inside?" Paulina said. She peeked into
the dorm room. It was a flat-out mess. The floor was
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covered in strewn paper, dirty clothes and burnt incense
sticks. Their furniture was