Late October in New York is not the wisest time to take on an outdoor job when you’re a slightly spoiled former office worker who is used to wearing low heels and accent jewelry.
But alas, here I am, regretting the decision not to wear sweats under my jeans and wondering if fingerless gloves really count as wearing anything at all if the tips of your fingers fall off from the cold.
“You must be Clara!” I look up to see a man with salt-and-pepper hair that’s considerably more salt than pepper, an orange safety vest, and a bushy gray mustache walking across the parking lot toward me.
I give him a little wave and stick my hand out to shake his. “It’s so nice to meet you, Mr. Bishop.”
“Please,” he says in a friendly baritone, shaking my proffered hand. “It’s Charlie.”
“Charlie.” I smile and nod. “Thank you again for taking me on for this. I really needed the job.”
He shrugs and starts walking. I stand in place just long enough for it to be weird and then scramble to catch up to him. “Nothing to it! I normally just hire some college kids to do it every few years, but the guys who used to come in during the summers when they were off school are all grown and gone. Just never took the time to find replacements. Gettin’ old, I guess. It’s been two years now, and I’m losing more than I care to in clogged-up units. But it’s easy enough work. You’ll be fine.”
We head across the lot over to the third unit in a row of ten. He pulls a ring of keys out of his pocket and undoes the padlock on the front of the door. In a quick movement, he yanks the rolling door up.
I’m trying to keep my most professional face on, but it gives way to disgust. This eight-foot-by-eight-foot unit is full of everything that has ever existed. Moldy furniture, piles of clothing, junky old electronics, just...everything. And what the hell is that smell?
“All right,” Charlie says, turning to face me. “Here’s the first one on your list. These’ll open all the padlocks on the units we’ve repossessed.” He passes me the keys and pulls a folded piece of paper from the pocket of his aggressively orange vest. “Here’s the list. You’ve got twenty-three altogether.”
He hands me the paper unceremoniously and reaches back into his vest pocket for another set of keys. “This is our truck.” Charlie gestures to an ancient diesel pickup truck with an extra-long bed about twenty feet away. I know exactly nothing about cars, but even I can tell this is a behemoth of a vehicle. “Throw all the junk in the back, and at the end of the day, you’ll drive it across the city to the dump. Park behind the front gate and leave the keys in the glove box. The guys there will unload the stuff and bring the truck back in the morning.”
He jabs a finger back at the unit. “Now, some of this’ll be too heavy for you to move on your own, sofas and fridges and whatnot, so you just jot those down on your list for each unit. I’ve got guys coming on the weekend to get the big things out. We can sometimes sell ’em off. Also, keep an eye out for things like stocks and bonds or safes full of cash. That stuff I don’t wanna toss.”
I nod, but my eyes wander back to the unit, searching in vain for the source of the smell.
Charlie claps me on the back. “Everything make sense?” he asks.
My eyebrows shoot up. “Um. Yeah. Sure! I’ve got it.” I glance down at his vest. “Do I need to wear one of those? Is it a safety thing?”
He looks down at himself and brushes off his neon attire. “No. Somethin’ wrong with my vest?”
I blink. “Nothing. It’s lovely. Great color on you. Brings out your eyes.”
Charlie snorts. “When you’re finished, I’ll cut you a check.” He starts walking back toward his car on the other side of the lot. “My number’s on the top of the list if you need me. If you find anything you like or you think’s worth somethin’, it’s yours. Consider it a finder’s fee. And don’t stay after dark, ’cause that’s when the weirdos come out.”
I stiffen. “Hey, just because I’m a girl...”
He turns around and raises an eyebrow. “It’s not ’cause you’re a girl. Hell, even I won’t stay out here after dark.”
I can feel my eyes bulging. “Great. Good to know. Thanks.”
Charlie laughs and climbs into his car, which I am just now noticing is a shiny, newish Lexus. Being the Storage King seems to be working out well for him. “Good luck!” he calls. I pretend to study the list, looking as cool and collected as possible while he drives through the lot. I look up to see him give me a short wave before he’s on the street, disappearing from view.
Now it’s just me and a smelly storage unit. Well, me, this stinky unit, and twenty-two others that I’m sure will prove to be just as palatable.
I fold up the list and stuff it into the back pocket of my jeans, then tuck both sets of keys into my coat pockets. I take a deep breath and turn to face my Everest.
Okay. So, this really isn’t too bad. All I have to do is move the stuff in here into the back of the truck. I’m not big on treasure hunting, so the job shouldn’t take too long. It’s a simple Point A to Point B scenario. No big deal. Might not be particularly glamorous, but a little hard work never hurt anybody.
I can totally do this.