J. McKenna - Wanted - Kept Woman

“This sounds like a hell of a lot of trouble to go through for a date.”

“I agree. But it does cut through a lot of wasted time as well. Don’t you think so?”

Suzanne was reassured by the woman’s candor. “Yes, I guess so.”

“So you’d like to meet with him?”

Suzanne could feel Wendy’s eyes on her. “Yes. Yes, I would.”

They arranged a time and place convenient to both schedules and Suzanne agreed to show up at the Kinko’s with all her questions and concerns.

She started to hang up, but then another question occurred to her. “Oh, I wanted to ask—my friend Wendy also applied and didn’t make it out of the first round.”

Now it was Wendy’s turn to blanch. Suzanne leaned in so her friend could hear Rebecca’s side of the conversation.

“She’s a beautiful girl—I was wondering if you can tell me why she was rejected,” Suzanne said, smiling at Wendy’s discomfort.

“I can’t discuss why certain people didn’t make the cut. I can only say that my boss has certain criteria and for whatever reason, your friend didn’t meet them.”

“But she’s a wonderful woman!” Beside her, Wendy nodded vigorously in agreement.

“I’m sure she is. But my boss is looking for a particular type. For whatever reason, she didn’t answer the questions in the way he wanted. As I’ve said, we had more than fifteen hundred responses. We had to trim it down somehow.”

Suzanne thanked the woman and hung up.

“You didn’t have to do that!”

“Oh, you don’t like it when the shoe’s on the other foot, huh?”

“I didn’t care that he rejected me—I was only doing it to get you to do it.”

“Sure you did. You can’t fool me—I know you were disappointed not to be picked.”

“Yeah, I was.” Wendy sat back and had another sip of wine. “What am I, chopped liver? I thought my answers were very inventive!”

“There’s no accounting for taste,” Suzanne said, secretly pleased that for the first time in their lives, she had been considered more desirable than Wendy. Not that she could really believe it.

“Well, I’m glad you took the initiative at least.”

“Maybe it’s the ‘new me’ coming out, hmmm?”

“I’ll bet the Sugar Daddy would like the new you as well. When’s your big TV production?”

“What? Oh, that. Tomorrow at nine. I’ll have to call Glenda at work, tell her I have a dentist appointment or something.”

“Do you know what you’re going to say?”

“Uh, no. I’ll just be myself.” Suzanne suddenly began to feel uncomfortable with the topic, as if by merely mentioning it, she’d jinx it. She changed the subject. “How about you, have you answered any personal ads lately?”

“Oh, maybe.” She gave an enigmatic smile.

“Wen! Come on, fess up!”

“Okay, I did answer an ad a few days ago…”

“Show me! I’ve got the paper right here!”

Reluctantly, Wendy thumbed through the tabloid and ran her fingers down the columns of personals. “Here it is—I see you circled it too! Did you respond?”

Suzanne hung her head. “Um, no. But he did sound nice, didn’t he?” She read the ad to herself again:

SWM, 40ish, tall, seeks adventurous, funny, sexy woman for good times, travel and candlelight dinners…

“Did you hear anything?” Suzanne asked.

“No, not yet. But he’s probably gotten hundreds of responses.”

“You should send in a photo—that’ll put you at the head of the line.”

“I don’t want to lure him with simple physical beauty,” she huffed dramatically. “I want him to love the inner woman!”

“Wen, you crack me up.”

The next morning, Sam sat in his car, a half-block down from Suzanne’s apartment building, nervously jingling his keys. It was a quarter to nine, so she should be leaving any moment now.

There! He spotted her crappy blue car heading out of the driveway. She turned right, away from him and sped off up the street. Sam waited, smoking cigarettes and jingling his keys for another fifteen minutes, in case she came back for some forgotten item.

Finally satisfied, he stepped out of his car. He wore a black Giants ball cap and faded green coveralls with the words, “Jake’s Repairs” on the back. They reminded him of his hated jailhouse jumpsuit, but he needed the disguise. He wanted to be invisible.

Carrying a toolbox, he bypassed the front door. Like many apartments in San Francisco, visitors had to be buzzed in at the front door. But Sam had checked out this building carefully. He knew the service entrance was often left unlocked and at 9 a.m., the super was probably still stumbling around his apartment, trying to wake up.

Sam reached the back door and turned the handle. It was locked. Dammit! Then, as an afterthought, he pulled hard on the door. It squeaked, caught in the jamb for a moment and came open. Slick.

He eased through, and looked around. The corridor was empty. He found the stairs to the second floor, where he knew Suzanne’s apartment was located and climbed as quietly as he could. If he passed someone, he planned to walk by as if he owned the place and hoped his appearance would go unnoticed.

His luck held. He reached Suzanne’s apartment without spotting anyone. Most residents had already gone to work. He squatted down and opened the toolbox. He removed the new Keymaster battery-operated lock pick and threaded the narrow prongs into the keyhole. The damn thing made too much noise, but in less than ten seconds, he heard the pins fall into place and he opened the door. Grabbing his toolbox, he slipped inside.

He looked around her neat apartment and had a strong desire to ransack it. Break things. Pee on the carpet. Rip up her clothes. But he wasn’t there for that. Opening the toolbox again, he removed a small listening device, the size of a credit card, only a little thicker. He looked around, trying to decide the best spot. The coffee table was not far from the phone on an end table so that would be perfect, he decided. He flipped a tiny switch on the side of the card and a small green light glowed. That would never do. Taking a piece of electrician’s tape out of the toolbox, he fastened a small piece over the light.

Peeling the backing off of sticky tape on one side of the bug, he knelt down and attached it to the underside of the table. She wouldn’t see it unless she happened to lie on the floor, so it should be safe for a few days.

A few days were all he needed.

He took a radio receiver out of the toolbox. He plugged in the single earpiece, attached it to his ear, before holding the radio up and away from him. Stretching out, he reached the table and tapped his fingernails on it. In his ear, he heard the clicking sound. Nodding, he got up, put the radio away and quietly left the apartment, making sure to lock it on the way out.

A few miles away, Suzanne nervously stood outside the Kinko’s, trying to gather her courage to walk inside. It was ten minutes before her scheduled interview with Mr. Big and she was petrified. Rebecca’s email had admonished her not to bring any friends with her so Wendy stayed home. She could use her right about now, Suzanne thought. Wendy would give her a push.

Taking a deep breath, she pulled open the door and went inside. She strode with more confidence than she felt to the desk.

“May I help you?” The clerk was a tall black woman with hair pulled so tightly into a frizzy ponytail Suzanne wondered if it served as a cheap facelift.

“Yes. Yes. I’m Suzanne Montgomery and I have an appointment to use the video-conferencing room.”

“Oh, yes, Miss Montgomery. This way, please.” She led her back to a small room that had a rectangular table and two folding chairs. Two more chairs were stacked against the wall. Opposite the table sat a large TV screen with a camera on top. Suzanne’s stomach fluttered.