Small Steps (Holes 2)

“Why?”

“Because. They’re your parents.”

They were taking their daily walk.

“Think about it, Ginny,” said Armpit. “Do you really think I’m going to San Francisco? Look around. Do you really think a limo is going to come driving up this street and park in our driveway?”

“Yes.”

Armpit stared off in the distance. “San Franciso,” he said.

“San Francisco,” Ginny repeated.

“I’m scared of earthquakes,” he told her.

A woman named Aileen called him on Tuesday and asked him for his United Airlines frequent flyer number. When he told her he didn’t have one, she said United was the only airline that flew nonstop from Austin to San Francisco, and she suggested he enroll in their frequent flyer program when he got to the airport since he’d be getting double miles for flying first class.

She sounded incredibly efficient. She rattled off several departure and arrival times as he struggled to keep up. She suggested he take the 11:55 flight, which got into San Franciso at 1:10, because the only other nonstop would get him in at 6:21, which might make it difficult to make the eight o’clock show in Berkeley, depending on traffic, unless he wanted to fly into Oakland, in which case he would fly American, but there would be a layover in Dallas.

He went with her first suggestion.

“The eleven-fifty-five?”

“Whatever you said.”

It wasn’t until after he hung up that it occurred to him he’d miss his economics final. That was, if he really went.

Aileen sat at an antique desk looking over the hills of Santa Barbara and out to the Pacific Ocean. Unfortunately, what the hotel offered in charm and serenity, it lacked in modern technology, such as in-room Internet connections. She’d had to connect her laptop to her cell phone but kept losing reception. Which meant she still hadn’t booked Theodore Johnson’s ticket.

She heard the click of her door being unlocked, and then Jerome Paisley poked his large head into the room. “Have you made the arrangements?”

She lazily glanced his way. “I just have to book the flight.”

“Wait till you hear this?” he said, coming up behind her. “You won’t believe it!”

“Tell me.”

Jerome massaged the back of her neck as he spoke. “Fred ran a background check. The kid’s got a criminal record. Assault and battery!”

Aileen turned around to look at him.

“Am I a genius or am I a genius?”

She rose from her chair, then stood on tiptoe to kiss him. “You’re a genius,” she whispered.

“See, genius isn’t all about intelligence,” he explained. “There are a lot of smart people in the world.

Smarter than me. It’s about recognizing your opportunities. It’s about letting your opportunities come to you. Sometimes all you have to do is open the door and opportunity walks right in. It takes a genius to know when to open the door.”

Aileen knew a thing or two herself about recognizing opportunities. She had recognized Jerome Paisley as a weak, insecure man who was constantly trying to impress everybody. She let herself be impressed.

So far, with the help of Jerome, she had managed to extract nearly three million dollars from Kaira’s trust account. Even he didn’t know the extent of her embezzlement.

Jerome began to pace. “Now’s the time. Now’s the time,” he said, talking more to himself than to Aileen. “She’ll be eighteen in two months. Now’s the time to act. Opportunity is knocking. I’ve got no choice. Now’s the time to open the door.”

He was rambling. Aileen could hear the fear in his voice. She could see it in his eyes.

Kaira had said many times that she planned to fire him when she turned eighteen. If that happened, then whoever took his place would certainly discover the embezzlement. However, if, for example, somebody like Billy Boy killed Kaira before she turned eighteen, then her mother would inherit all her money. Jerome, her mother’s husband, would continue to oversee all the financial matters.