Round Robin Read Online Free PDF Page B

dumb enough to leave their phone numbers, and who’d be hearing soon from Stan Prozanski. Of the remaining calls, Robin picked the two men and two women who most closely sounded as if they’d been raised indoors by actual human beings.
    The two men, however, were chosen strictly to provide legal cover. Mimi had told her that the term “handyperson” had been mandated by the newspaper to avoid charges of sex discrimination. So, Mimi had said, while Robin might be excluding half the world’s population in her own mind, it wouldn’t be a bad idea if she gave herself a fig leaf to hide behind publicly.
    Robin made her four calls and set up two meetings, one man and one woman, on each of the next two mornings. Who could argue with such an equitable arrangement? Over the phone, one of the men had sounded African-American, and one of the women had a Hispanic surname. More politically correct cover. She only hoped that one of these two broads knew her stuff, was quiet, clean and generally invisible any time Robin was at home.
    That night, the cheery TV meteorologist said the cold weather would be back in three days.
     
    Lupe Ayala showed up right on time the next morning and Robin almost hired her on the spot. She was tiny, soft spoken and, from the way she talked, could really do the job. She’d apprenticed in plant maintenance at Procter & Gamble, had been there four years, showed glowing letters of recommendation from all of her superiors, everyone from her immediate supervisor on up to the plant superintendent. She was looking for a new situation because the plant where she worked would be closing.
    To each question Robin asked about heating, plumbing and wiring, Lupe shrugged nonchalantly and said, “Oh, suuure. I can do that.”
    There was no boastfulness in her manner, just a calm certainty, indeed a sense of polite forbearance, as if Robin had asked if she could tie her shoelaces by herself. Feeling a bit surprised, Robin thought that she might actually like having this little pixie in her basement. Lupe would work her magic, solve Robin’s problems, and she was so small and quiet she probably slept in a matchbox. Just what Robin wanted.
    Robin was about to offer her the job when Lupe mentioned Chuey.
    “Chuey?” Robin asked. “Is that your boyfriend?”
    Lupe giggled.
    “He’s my frien’, but no is a boy. Is a pet.”
    Not a dog, please, Robin thought. She couldn’t handle barking.
    “Chuey’s not a dog, is he? A chihuahua, or something.”
    Lupe laughed.
    “Oh, no, not a chihuahua. Chuey, he’d eat chihuahuas.”
    “What?”
    “Chuey a python.”
    “A snake?” Robin asked incredulously.
    “Only little one,” Lupe said. “Twelve feet. Supposed to be eighteen, but I think Chee-cago too cold for him, stunt his growth.”
    Twelve feet seemed plenty big to Robin; she’d heard more than one horror story about exotic snakes that had slithered away from their owners. She imagined going into her park and lurking there in the foliage ... Well, no, that definitely wouldn’t do.
    Still, she asked, “Do you keep him in some sort of glass cage, or something?”
    Lupe dismissed that notion with a wave of her hand.
    “Oh, no. Chuey, he sleep with me.”
    Robin tried hard not to cringe.
    “Very good for security,” Lupe confided. “Nobody break in, nobody sneak into my bed, they know I got Chuey there.”
    Robin didn’t doubt it for a minute.
    “Tell you something else, too.” Lupe looked around, leaned forward and dropped her quiet voice to an even more intimate level. “You got boyfrien’? He come on all macho. Say, ‘Mira, Mami, look what I got for you,’ and whip out his thing. I show him Chuey, say, ‘Lookit what I got already.’ Boyfrien’, unless he hung twelve feet, know he have his work cut out for him.”
    Lupe giggled and nodded at the undoubtedly fond memories running through her head. Then she added philosophically, “Ones who run away not real men anyway.”
    She said she was going