Perfect Match (43 page)

“That back across town where the penthouses are?”

“Nope, the address is 805 Crimson Street.”

The tires squealed as Ned slammed on the brakes, turning
around in his seat. “You’re kidding me. I thought you lived in that fancy
penthouse.”

“Used to. Those days are gone.”

Ned shook his head. “You’ll have to get another ride. I
ain’t driving through that neighborhood.”

“Why? What’s the problem?”

“Problem? You don’t know about that neighborhood?”

Roscoe shook his head.

“Where’ve you been all your life, man? That’s the most
dangerous area of town. Those people—”

“What kind of people?”

“Crazy-ass people, that’s what. The whole neighborhood is a
mixture of half-breeds, thugs, drug dealers, you name it, they got it. Christ
almighty! ‘Bout the time I think you got your head on straight, you spring
another goofy ride on me.”

“Are you going to drive me to 805 Crimson Street?”

“Hey, look, Rocky, I know you’ve said you been in the
hospital for a foot problem, but I’m okay if you’ve been in there for some head
treatment,” he twirled his finger around, pointing at his head, “you know what
I mean? If your short on your psycho meds, or need a little change to get you
some pills, I’ll give your tip money back to you. Take you back to the
hospital?”

“Ned, my name is Roscoe, not Rocky. What kind of meds are
you on?” He chuckled.

Ned shoved the cab in gear, burning rubber as he streaked
down the street. “Okay, damn it! 805 Crimson Street it is. You just got out of
the hospital, but we’ll
both
be in the hospital if we drive down Crimson
Street.” He gunned the cab, cutting every corner short, honked the horn at
everything that looked like it was about to move, and only slowed when he
turned down Crimson Street.

From the back seat, Roscoe, said, “You were right. Pretty
rundown neighborhood.”

“Well too damn late now. We’re right in the thick of things.
Tried to tell you.” He slapped his hand on the steering wheel, glancing in the
rearview. “Hey, man! Whada ya think ya doin’?”

“Waving.”

“Waving? You don’t know these people.”

“They’re going to be my neighbors.”

“Well, right now they think you’re either trying to hit on
some of them or you’re a white man trying to enter the drug trade down here.
Either thing ain’t gonna work.”

“Relax, Ned. I thought you told me you cabbed in New York.
Surely you’ve seen worse than this?”

“Nuh-uh, New York was like kindergarten compared to this
neighborhood. This is badass turf.”

Ned slowed as he neared 805 Crimson. “What the hell, man? If
this is your place, there’s a black woman swinging on the front porch.”

“That’s my friend.”

Ned’s eyes widened beyond saucers. “Well, I always say a
man’s shacking business is his business.”

Roscoe chuckled. “You’re going to find out that your
imagination is wrong. Pull around back. I’ll be staying in the garage.”

When it came in sight, it definitely leaned to the left,
almost touching a large oak tree.

Ned braked the cab, and slumped over the steering wheel,
mumbling, “I ain’t believing any of this. Surely this is a freaking nightmare.”

When Billy arrived, Roscoe, Ned, and Rachel’s daughter,
Imogene, and son, Jerome, gathered around the large oak dining room table.
Rachel served up homemade strawberry, and maple-walnut cake, with whipped
cream, and coffee and iced tea.

After plenty of social conversation about people, the town,
the neighborhoods, Rachel said, “I’m going to take Tyler, my grandson for a
walk, while y’all talk business. Have another helping of dessert.”

Imogene said, “Before you start the meeting, Jerome and I
need to show you something. It might help you with your decisions.”

They all went out to the leaning garage. New wooden steps
had been installed with a new bannister. Fresh pieces of wood had been replaced
on the door. When they stepped inside the small attic room, Roscoe froze. The
room looked ready for a photo shoot for a home decorating magazine.

Seeing the amazed look on Roscoe’s face, Imogene said,
“Jerome and I decided we couldn’t let you stay here unless we fixed up the
place a little bit. We spread some fresh paint, altered a pair of curtains, and
put up a few spare pictures. He made the bed frame from some scrap lumber.

Ned was already eyeing the handiwork. “You’ll have to show
me how you joined those end pieces. I’ve tried, but I must be doing something
backwards.”

Jerome nodded, and said, “Will do.”

In the small bath and shower, everything was polished
spotless, with fresh towels, and soap.

Imogene said, “This will have to serve as our portfolio of
the kind of work you can expect from us.”

As they came down the garage steps, Rachel returned with her
grandson. He stood gawking at the Ned’s sagging cab. Ned smiled. “Come over
here and let me put you in the driver’s seat.” He unlatched the door and lifted
Tyler up, letting him sit behind the wheel. Ned activated the cab radio and let
him listen to some of the dispatcher’s messages to drivers on duty.

When Tyler stepped down he asked, “Will you take me for a
ride?”

Ned smiled, as his chest swelled, and said, “If it’s okay
with your dad.”

Tyler grinned, looking at his dad.

Jerome laughed. “Ned, I think you just got yourself a
permanent passenger.”

Back around the dining room table Roscoe said, “I’m
impressed with the quality work that each of you has done. Imogene and Jerome
the attic room is picture perfect. I saw decks this afternoon that Ned built
that would win first prize anywhere. I’ve known Billy through the years and his
love for building and construction. His ability as a cost estimator will be a
great asset. Imogene, your interior decorating training will add an ingredient
to the business that I had not even thought of. Ned’s knowledge of the greater
Asheville area will contribute greatly to logistics and cost-cutting. And
Jerome your varied on-site experience and expertise with a variety of builders
will be vital to our operation.”

He paused.

“I’ve made a decision. I want you to help me start a brand
new business of renovating homes and buildings. Now, you’ve got to decide if
you want to be part of this venture. This might be the toughest decision you’ve
ever made. Whatever you’ve heard about me or my past that was bad is probably
true. I’ve made a public embarrassment of myself. I openly and painfully admit
it, but I’m moving on.”

He waited a moment.

“Here’s what I can offer you for the next three months.
That’s how much capital I have to sustain the business, if we get absolutely no
customers. So in three months this could be an experiment that failed. But with
your expertise, I believe we’ll be successful.

“We will follow the sun, working 14 and 15-hour days, and
cutting back a little as the days shorten. When we have bad weather days, we’ll
do inside work. I can start you at ten dollars an hour, increasing by one
dollar an hour each month until we hit the first plateau of 15 dollars an hour.
You’ll work forty-eight weeks, with two weeks paid vacation, and we’ll also
take off all other federal holidays. We’ll be closed on Sundays.

“At this time there will be no fringe benefits. Hourly wage
only. If you’re sick, you’ll need to take care of yourself and get well, but
there will be no insurance coverage or sick leave. The company can’t afford any
of that at this time. Maybe later.

“This will be an excruciating work schedule. Very long days.
So if you normally have date night on Tuesdays, or bowling league or choir
practice on Wednesdays, that’ll have to be postponed for a while.”

Ned said, “I’ll probably lose my girlfriend.”

“Does she work?”

“What’s that got to do with it?”

“What kind of work does she do?

Looking exasperated, Ned said, “Part time secretary, and
helps me with putting up decks sometimes.”

Roscoe smiled. “I left a little room in the startup budget
for another employee. Think she’d be interested? If so you’d get to see more of
her at work.”

Ned grinned. “I’ll ask her.”

Imogene said, “Things are looking good here.”

“As business increases, we’ll be adding additional people,
so be on the lookout for people you know who are talented and interested in
some hard work.”

Ned spoke up again. “What’re you going to be doing? Counting
the profit?”

Roscoe laughed. “I hope there’ll be plenty of profit so the
business can grow. Early profits will be ploughed back into the business to
expand, purchase and replace equipment and things needed to run the business.
I’ve got enough in the budget to start with one good-sized panel truck, some
ladders, scaffolding and a few other items. I’ll want us to go over a list of
things that you might think of.

Roscoe looked at each one, and took a deep breath.

“I’ve thought a long time about the various roles in the
business and decided I want to try something different. Each one of us is going
to have the same title of CEO, Customer Excellence Officer. It’s true each
individual will develop job specialties, but I want customers to know each of
us as that person delivering excellence to them, nothing more nothing less.

“I’m going to work alongside you. I’ll use the same tools
you do. If I don’t know how, I’ll learn from you. There is nothing in the
business that I won’t do. I’ll scrub the office bathrooms. I’ll receive the
exact same pay you do, or less. If the business needs a new paint sprayer or
other equipment, I’ll cut back on my pay that week, if needed.

Jerome said, “Never heard of that before.”

Billy said, “That’s different.”

Roscoe said, “I do have a couple restrictions that I want
you to know about. Because I was a drunken, irresponsible driver several weeks
ago, I’ve had some stiff legal fines to pay. I almost went to jail for the
wreck I caused, but the judge did revoke my driver’s license for six months.
I’m on probation for a year. When we work, I’ll need to ride with one of you.
The license revocation could have been longer, but I submitted a community
service plan to the judge that she approved.

“I learned from the realtor the crime rate for the
neighborhood in which I’m going to locate the business is extremely high. My
community service plan should be an incentive to reduce crime. Throughout the
neighborhood the block of houses that has the lowest incident rate of crimes,
as reported to the police, will have a special monthly drawing of all
homeowners. The winner will get a free home renovation donated by the business.

“We will all do the work, you will get paid, but I won’t,
and the business will not make a profit. Everything will be at cost. It will be
a limited renovation, primarily on the exterior of the home, but it will be
quality work that improves the home and neighborhood. It will build goodwill,
and it will be a good advertisement.”

The four potential employees sat captivated.

“Where’s the business going to be located?” asked Imogene.

“Eight-o-five Rainbow Avenue.”

Jerome let out a worried whistle.

Imogene, open-mouthed, looked into the kitchen at her
mother, Rachel Johnson. She was smiling.

Billy sat quietly.

Ned said, “I tried to tell you this is a dangerous
neighborhood.”

“What’s that got to do with Rainbow Avenue?

Ned threw his hands up in the air. “It’s the street that
runs behind this one. Did you pay attention in geography class or ever look at
a city map?”

Roscoe laughed. “I didn’t pay much attention in any class.
But, Ned, listen a minute. These are not dangerous people.” He gestured around
the table. “As far as I know I’m the most dangerous person in the house. I’m
the only one with a court record for some pretty dangerous offenses.” He
paused. “Ned, I need your help to start this business.”

Rachel had walked into the room and took the seat beside
Ned, saying, “Why are you so frightened of this neighborhood?”

“Had a bad experience. Came down here one night to pick up a
passenger, and a gang blocked the street, wouldn’t let me through. When I tried
to turn around they threw rocks at my cab and I had to pay the damages.” His
jaw set, he stared at the table.

Rachel put her arm around his shoulder and said, “That was
not right for them to do that to you. But I don’t want you to be afraid in my neighborhood.
If anyone ever gives you trouble again down here, you tell them you are a
friend of Rachel Johnson. They’ll leave you alone.”

He cracked a wry smile. “Why, are you the ring leader?”

Rachel laughed. “No, but they know I don’t tolerate any of their
meanness.”

Jerome said, nodding his head, “She’s right.”

Rachel said, “There are several strong homeowners, but we
need more, and I believe Roscoe has a good idea. It’ll take a little time, but
I believe it’ll work.” She paused. “I hope you’ll decide to help start the
business, Ned. If you do, I’ll promise you a cake of your choice at least once
a month.”

He grinned. “Now that’s what I call a serious fringe
benefit.”

By 4:30 their meeting had gravitated around the block to the
three dilapidated buildings that Roscoe had bought unseen, except for some
photos the realtor had emailed to him. Yes indeed 805 Rainbow Avenue was in
deplorable condition.

After Jerome tinkered with the bent key the realtor had
mailed to Roscoe, they stood inside looking at remnants of the former business,
along with cobwebs and layers of dust.

Roscoe said, “Take a look around and let me know what you
think. I need to get off this foot for a couple of minutes. I’ll be out front.”

The guys moseyed off analyzing the situation.

Imogene remained with Roscoe. Looking concerned, she said,
“Are you okay? You look wiped out.”