Unleashed (A Sydney Rye Novel, # 1) Read Free Page B

one with the hip thing and the curly hair that looks permed but is natural?” I nodded, vaguely remembering a woman who used a cane and had strange curly hair. “"Well, she has a friend, you know. She lives in Yorkville on East End Avenue— nice area but no public transportation. I don’t know how she does it with that hip. Anyway, this young woman, her friend, I can’t remember her name, is selling her dog-walking business. It’s good money, I understand, with room to grow. What do you think?”
    “Well,” I said. “I don’t actually have much experience with businesses or walking dogs.”
    “What are you talking about?  You have a dog. I assume you walk him.”
    “"Yeah, but I wouldn’t consider myself an expert.” I flashed back to the all-too-recent attempted homicide of an unsuspecting elementary school teacher.
    “You don’t have to be an expert. You just have to know how to pretend to be an expert.” Nona raised her eyebrows and smiled. “Look, here’s what I’ll do. I’ll call Julia and get all the information, OK?”
    “OK.”

 
     
    All the Information
     
    Two days after my vow to fix my life, I was sitting on Charlene Miller’s overstuffed white couch with black-and-white photographs of flowers (suggestive flowers) above my head. Charlene Miller, the neighbor of Nona’s friend Julia was selling her dog-walking route. She was the type of woman you might see on the subway wearing a white suit—the kind of woman who made you question how she managed to stay so clean in such a dirty place. “This is a really nice area,” I said. Charlene smiled at me with big, clean, straight teeth.
    “It’s Manhattan’s little secret.” Charlene sounded as if she had expressed this opinion before.
    “I can see that,” I volleyed back.
    “I remember the first time I walked around here; I wondered how it could be so quiet, especially with the highway right there.” Charlene said, referring to the East River Drive that runs right next to, and slightly below, East End Avenue.
    “I wondered the same thing,” I said with enthusiasm. We smiled at each other and our shared ignorance about how a street next to a highway was so darn quiet.
    “I’m trying to sell the route because I’ve got so many other things going on right now. Also, I might be getting out of town. I’m not sure yet,” I nodded. “"It’s really easy. You just feed and walk the dogs. I only have three clients but the money’s good. It’s amazing how much people will pay for you to walk their dog.” She smiled at me and pushed her auburn hair behind her adorably petite ears.
    “Like how much?” I smiled trying to sound casual, not hungry.
    She smiled. “I get $40 an hour.”
    “Really?” She nodded. “So that’s…” I started to do the math when she finished it for me.
    “$1,200 a week.” She laughed at the look on my face. “I know it’s insane, but hey, this is Yorkville.”
    “What kind of compensation are you looking for?” I asked.
    “Well, you could either buy the route off me up front or give me a percentage of the profits for the first year.”
    “I don’t have the capital to buy it up front but I think we could work out a payment plan that would make us both happy.” I hoped I sounded responsible rather than broke.
    “Alright, that’s fine. Everything here looks good,” she gestured to my résumé and references that sat on her coffee table. “I have a few other people I need to see, so would it be OK if I got back to you by the end of the week?”
    “Oh, of course. I understand.” She stood up and I followed. Charlene put her hand out toward me and I shook it. “Thank you for your time.”
    Outside, the street was indeed quiet. East End Avenue runs between 79th and 93rd streets right next to and slightly above East River Drive, a four-lane highway that lets New Yorkers speed all the way from Battery Park City to the Triborough Bridge. I wandered up the avenue towards Carl Schurz Park which, in