Minnesota

Gossip

Connie wandered restlessly down the street. She wanted to give Nena quiet time to take a nap. The Café had already closed, all chores were done. The late afternoon turned into dusk.

She kept walking down the street toward Regina’s office. Since Thomas had told her that Regina’s office was right around the corner from the Café, Connie couldn’t put it out of her mind.

            When she got there, she recognized it immediately, even before she saw the silver-on- black writing above the front entrance. Praeda Companies. It was a cold, uninviting building, steel and windows framed in black metal. It reeked of excess money.

            You should let Thomas handle this. Tell him everything. He’ll know what to do. She sat down on a bench across Regina’s building. Truth was, she didn’t want to tell Burrows because nothing might come off it. Mark might walk away, all because there wasn’t any proof. And that’s not enough. And then there was the other thing. Keep trying to deny it, but the camera issue can get you into a lot of trouble. And there’s only one other person that’ll know for sure.

            But she didn’t know where Mark was. She hadn’t seen him since the tournament. She didn’t know where he lived. And it was an assumption that he worked in his aunt’s office. How do you find someone? Are you going to sit here on this bench, day-in, day-out, until he shows up?

            She stared across the street, biting her lower lip. Two doors down from Regina’s office was a small store with a large neon sign in the window. All cell phones and tablets on sale - buy one, get second half off.

            Connie smiled. Gabriel is my best bet. She stood up and crossed the street. When she opened the front door to the electronic store, old-fashioned bells chimed.

            “Can I help you?” A young woman, Anne, according to her nametag, greeted her.

            “I’d like a pre-paid cell phone, please, one with lots of data rather than phone minutes.”    The young woman extended her slim arm toward a large display case. Her elbow-length sleeve moved and revealed a colorful snake tattoo creeping across the upper arm.

            “All phones come with pre-paid cards, and you can choose which plan you want. This one, for example, has a large screen, perfect for Skype or typing messages.”

Connie looked at the selection and decided on the throw away version of her current phone. Then she glanced at the tablets, knock-off versions of I-pads, and chose the cheapest one. It’s just for browsing the web, anyway.

Anne nodded, her ponytail bouncing. “You get 500 minutes of phone, texts or wireless access, your choice. Would you like to purchase additional minutes at half price?”

Connie thought for a moment. “I’ll take an additional 100 minutes.”

Anne walked behind the counter. “I’ll need your name and an email address to register you.”

“I don’t have an email address.” She lied.

Anne smiled, revealing small, uneven teeth. “Then we’ll create one now. It’s easy and there’s nothing to be ashamed off because lots of older folks are afraid of technology. “

Connie stared at Anne. The guy that invented this stuff is my age, silly girl.

Connie grinned, then gave Anne a name. “Regina Praeda. Do you need me to spell it for you?” Connie feigned a caring voice.

“Oh, no, I’ll have you look this over when we’re done.” She typed quickly into her register, her artificial nails clicking against the keyboard with every stroke.

“How about ‘Regina.Praeda@gmail.com’ as your email address?”

Connie didn’t want anything obvious. “Let’s use rep@gmail.com.” She suggested.

Anne 's eyes widened with surprise. “But that’ll be confusing, you want …”

Connie raised her hand, interrupting her. “Let’s go with that, please.”

Connie was at the end of her patience. For crying out loud, why is purchasing disposable tech such a big deal?

Anne typed. Every clicking noise echoed in Connie's ears until she thought she couldn't stand it any longer.

“Okay, you’re all set up.”

Anne wrote on a sticky note, “Here’s your temporary password. You need to change it the first time you log in. That’ll be Nine Hundred and Twenty dollars.”

Anne placed the phone and tablet into boxes, taped them shut and slid them into a bag.

Connie counted out dollar bills and handed them over.

“You know, debit cards are much safer, you could get one that you can load as you need it.” Anne commented as the dollar bills disappeared into the register.

“Bye, now.” Connie waved. Dear God, was I such a know-it-all at that age?

Connie glanced in the direction of the office building. There was a door man, but no one came or left. The building looks empty, unused. Lonely. Connie glanced upward and just now realized that the building looked lopsided. The entry door was closer to the other end, not in the middle. She paced the front. Three quarters down. She estimated. The windows, too, were uneven, as if the total building was split in half, except there was no visible division.

Connie walked past the entry door. This building was the end of the block. She went around the corner. ‘Staff only.’ Said a sign to a parking lot behind it. The lot wasn’t large, maybe for twenty cars. It was gated, but no guard. Trees and shrubs surrounded the parking lot, giving it privacy.

“I’m telling you; Mr. Mark shows up, you leave …” A woman’s voice spoke.

“But if I’m not finished ...” Another woman, younger, panicked.

“Listen to me, Mija,” The first woman urged, “I got lucky. Normally, Mr. Mark is the only one there. If it weren’t for Mr. O’Toole, God only knows what would have happened.”

Steve.

Connie glanced at the street, making sure no one saw her as she stepped into the trees and shrubs to get closer to the conversation. This, she had to hear.

“Ah,” the first woman continued, “it does not matter. I heard the manager talk. Mr. Mark is in Canada. He is in big trouble and won’t be back.”

Damn. Connie leaned against the tree.

The second woman sniffled. “I don’t think that’s true,” She blew her nose. “I heard Mr. O’Toole say on the phone that Mr. Mark disappeared, that no one knows where he is. He was angry, demanded everyone look for Mr. Mark.

“Ava, can we make it so we’re not alone when cleaning?” The second woman asked.

Ava laughed. “If the manager doesn’t let us work together, I will speak to Mr. O’Toole. He is a reasonable man.”

Connie startled, almost laughed. For your sake I hope you’re not sleeping with him. Regina Praeda does not like competition.

            Just goes to show that staff hears everything.