I picked up an old router I was planning to use for the public WiFi, but noticed the case was cracked. I was just looking online for a CAD file I could use with my 3D printer to replace the case with, when I checked my phone and noticed I had missed calls and a text from Danielle while I was at the Miller house.
The text only read “I’m sorry. I tried to talk them out of it”.
Whatever she meant, it sure sounded like I wouldn’t like it.
I got the cash from the safe into my sports bag, transferred my personal stuff from my Jeep into my new company car, and drove home. The car was a dream, though I was mighty uncomfortable driving it through narrow areas. It was a luxury SUV we used to chauffeur rich clients around, so not only did it handle like a go-kart despite being armored, it was also loaded with a shitload of gimmicks to make the driver’s life easier by entertaining the passengers. My big hope was that Mia would be making good use of either the TV or the champagne cooler, and won’t feel the need to talk to me.
As soon as I neared the gate enclosing my apartment complex, I saw a woman holding a briefcase, seemingly waiting for someone at the entrance. When I stopped the car to open the gate, she suddenly approached me.
“Timothy Brown?” she asked in an inquiring tone.
“Are you about to hand me a manilla folder with divorce papers and say ‘You have been served’?” I asked, after nodding to confirm I was who she thought I was.
“Oh, no!” she said, smiling brightly in amusement, placing her briefcase on the ground and extending her hand for a greeting. “My name is Nataly Potts. I’m a social worker with Family and Protective Services. Your grandparents called us because they are concerned about your living conditions.”
I had attempted to shake her hand, but as she said she came from Family and Protective Services, I paused.
“You’re joking!” I said.
“I’m afraid not. I hope you could spare a little time, so we could talk?”
“Uh ... sure. I just have to park the car first.”
I didn’t know what would happen if I just refused her. I had somewhat expected the family to maybe try calling the police, but a social worker!? While the police wouldn’t force me home as long as I was doing Okay, they certainly would act if this woman called them. I finally opened the gate, parked the car, and escorted her to the entrance.
“That is a nice car! Is that yours?” she asked.
“God, no! I drive a nearly twenty years old Jeep Wrangler. This here is an armored Range Rover Velar SVA with 600 horsepowers and a shitload of little gimmicks to entertain the VIPs we drive around in them. That car cost roundabout 280,000 dollars.” I explained. “I have savings, but not
“The company you work for lets you drive around in a $280,000 dollar car?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Well, I got a specialized training course on how to handle them. And our newest client is a classmate of mine, so, from tomorrow onwards, I’ll have the honor to drive her to and from school. Honestly, I’d never pay that much for a car, even if I won the lottery. The entire drive home I was worried I’d scratch the fender, and then have to sell a kidney to pay for the new paint job.”
“Yeah, I think I would as well.” she laughed.
When we reached my apartment and I opened the door, she immediately started scanning the living room. She didn’t even do it slyly or in any way trying to hide it, she actually seemed irritated and kept checking something on a clipboard.
“What?” I asked, confused.
“Well ... to be perfectly honest with you ... this does not look at all like what I was told to expect.” she carefully answered.
“What were you told to expect?” I asked, hanging my suit jacket over a chair at my small dining table.
“Your grandparents claimed you were basically squatting here. They mentioned a bed and a desk in an otherwise completely vacant apartment. But not only is this fully furnished, you even have decorations up! Where did all this come from?”
“Ikea, mostly?” I answered honestly, not really understanding what her questions meant.
“You got all this yourself?”
“Of course! Does this look like I just carried discarded stuff from the roadside in here? I got it all from Ikea and Home Depot. A friend helped me transport most of it with his truck and assemble the bigger things, but the rest is all me. I even made some of it myself. Like the shelves in the Walk-Ins, or the nightstands.” I explained proudly, causing her to just nod and accept it for now. Not really knowing what else to do, I thought about how to break the silence. “Can I offer you something to drink, maybe? Water? Coffee?”
“Oh, Coffee would be lovely!” she answered, so I waved at her to follow me into the kitchen, suspecting she’d like a chance to look inside it.
