Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 46943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
“An old lady asked me to help move some furniture around, so I said yes,” I shrugged casually. “Didn’t look like she had many options.”
Hunter frowned again.
“Wasn’t there a doorman or a super or something? Why you?” he whined. “Tuck, you have shit to do, you know the clock’s always running in this business.”
I just shrugged again.
“Maybe cause she lives five floors up,” I said helpfully. “And there’s no doorman, it’s a pretty run-down place on the Upper East Side.”
Hunter just frowned again. But my cousin is a good guy, he wasn’t going to ream me out for helping little old ladies with no options. So he just huffed again and turned away.
“Well, if this Evelyn Holmes person requests you again, we’re going to say you’re unavailable,” he said tightly. “Time is money in this business and we gotta move fast, roll with the ball.”
I just shrugged again. Hunter could spout whatever shit he wanted but I was still the boss and I was coming and going when and where I wanted, complaints be damned. After all I had even more invested in this business than him. Not only had I poured a fortune into the company as start-up capital, but I was also working as a lowly delivery man to better understand our business, running up and down flights of stairs, humping heavy packages, my baseball cap pulled low the entire time, anonymously delivering shit.
After all, it’s critical to explore every niche of our business and to know exactly what’s going on. Even more, there was no better way to do it than as a stealth boss. To understand what kept our employees up at night, I’d decided to take on the job myself, schlepping up and down all of Manhattan as a nondescript messenger. Only then would NYC Concierge be able to optimize on all fronts and truly push the boundaries of this developing sector. Otherwise we’d be manipulating something that management, at its core, did not fundamentally understand. And I’d be damned if I was the boss straight out of Dilbert, giving wedgies with his head in the clouds. So yeah, delivery was our business, and I was the delivery man sometimes.
I shrugged again. Shit had to get done, and Hunter was right in some respects, I’d been spending a lot of time with my special customer. There were reports to read, client data to scrutinize, investors to chat up, endless lists of to-dos that always got pushed to the back. I shook my head, getting serious, flipping on my laptop while turning to focus on my work. Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough, I couldn’t wait to taste, to sample Laurie again, but for the rest of today, NYC Concierge was my baby.
13
Laurie
Hesitantly, I knocked on the big door. To say I was out of place was putting it mildly. I stood in a swanky building in Tribeca, a neighborhood so expensive that the most I could afford was maybe a pastry at a bakery, and not even a fancy bakery. Oh no, not the ones with the twee decorations and pyramids of macarons stacked in pastel colors, that was too expensive. I was talking about a pastry from Dunkin’ Donuts, I’d wandered into one on the way here, treating myself to a snack before arriving at Tucker’s building.
And looking up, I almost gasped. The grey edifice was classic Tribeca with the huge, cast-iron windows and a grey and green striped awning over the front door. Even the doorman was fancy, a burly man in a snazzy bellhop outfit, jaunty cap perched on his head.
“Can I help you?” he said, businesslike. Guess the jaunty cap was just a prop, there was nothing friendly about him. In fact, he was kind of like a bulldog brought in to shoo away randoms, his expression suspicious and impassive at once.
And I mumbled before lifting my chin and looking him straight in the eye. No need to act awkward, be the timid little girl. After all, Tucker was a delivery guy and there had to be some explanation for these majestic digs. No way he could afford this on a delivery man’s salary even with generous tips.
So I piped up confidently, “Tucker McGrath please,” and the doorman nodded. With a sweep of his hand, he pointed me towards the elevators.
“I’ll let Mr. McGrath know you’re here,” his voice trailed as the door closed. I took a deep breath. Okay, I was going to see Tucker again, and the big man was about to show me his home, show me where he lived. My cheeks colored, my breath going fast in anticipation. It was exciting to be seeing a man ever since the disaster of my divorce, maybe even a little early, but who knows? It’s better to get back in the saddle right away, not lie on the ground and cry when you could be having a ball with a gorgeous male.