The Maintenance Man Collector's Edition by Michael Baisden

Author:Michael Baisden [Baisden, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Regional & Cultural, Drama & Plays, Dramas & Plays, United States, African, Literature & Fiction
ISBN: 9780984776535
Amazon: B007SABXMO
Publisher: BAISDEN PUBLISHING LLC
Published: 2012-04-06T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 23

Malcolm’s flight arrived into Chicago’s O’Hare airport at 3:15 Saturday afternoon, two hours later than scheduled. He grabbed his garment bag from the overhead compartment and hurried through the terminal to meet his driver. While he waited outside of the baggage claim area, he pulled out Antoinette’s letter to confirm the time of her performance was two o’clock. “These damn planes are never on time, unless you’re rushing to catch one,” he said to himself. “What else could go wrong?” No sooner did he mumble those words than his phone rang. He could see by the caller ID it was from the limousine service.

“Hello.”

“Mr. Tremell, this is the dispatcher at Boston Coach. Your driver had a flat tire on the Kennedy Expressway; we’re sending another car to you right away.”

“How soon will it get here?”

“The closest driver is at Midway Airport; he should be there in thirty to forty-five minutes.”

“That’s not going to work for me; I’ll just hop in a taxi.”

“Sorry for the inconvenience!”

The line at the taxi stand was long and moving slowly. Malcolm rushed to the front of the line and offered one hundred dollars to the man who was next in line. He gladly accepted.

“DuSable Museum, Seven-forty East Fifty-sixth Place,” Malcolm shouted at the driver, “and step on it!”

While the driver sped towards the airport exit, Malcolm called the museum to confirm Antoinette’s event was still on time.

“DuSable Museum, how may I direct your call?” a woman’s voice answered.

“I’m looking for information about a dance recital this afternoon. Can you tell me what time it starts?”

“I don’t believe we have any recitals scheduled today, sir. But if you’ll hold on for a moment, I’ll double-check.”

While he waited for her to return, he slapped himself on the forehead.

“Godammit! I knew I should have called first before I flew all the way from Miami!”

“You talking to me buddy?” the taxi driver asked

“No, I’m talking to myself. How long will it take us to get there?”

“In this traffic, we’ll be lucky to get there in an hour!”

“That’s just great, more good news!”

“Hello, sir?” the receptionist cut in.

“Yes, I’m here.”

“We don’t have a dance recital today, but there is a youth group scheduled to use the auditorium for dance lessons between two and four this afternoon.”

“That has to be it,” he said to her. “Thank you very much for your help.”

After he hung up the phone, he tried to relax by looking out of the window at the CTA trains as they emerged from the tunnel underneath the airport. When he was a kid, he and his friends used to ride those same trains downtown to watch Bruce Lee movies at McVickers Theater. He laughed out loud when he thought about how they kicked and punched each other all the way to Ninety-fifth Street. Those were the good old days, he thought.

But those childhood memories didn’t last long. He was stressing over the idea of coming all the way from Miami only to miss Toni by a few minutes. He looked down at his watch a hundred times as if he could make time stand still.

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