“Before you go, Keith, a word about your daughter.”
“Jenny?” Keith laughs nervously. “What’s she been up to *now*, hee?”
“Nothing that she hasn’t been up to the past 3 months. Listen. Just keep her out of your room, okay? That’s *your* room. She shouldn’t have the keys.”
“She doesn’t,” Keith defended himself. “She just knows the code. She found out somehow.”
“The code is just between *us*, Keith.”
“I know, I know. She just… found out. I don’t know how. Maybe Jim.”
“Tell her that there’s spooks down there,” Todd A. then requested. “Tell her, heck, tell her the truth and that you use to, well, you know…”
“I know.” Keith B. knew that Todd A. was joking with this.
“Change the locks. Change the code.”
“We can’t do that,” Keith deadpanned back. “You know we can’t do that.”
“There’s one other option.” Todd A. leaned back. “You say… she has a beautiful singing voice.”
“Yeah. So?”
“Let’s hit her on the head with a reality pipe. We, the *bank*, will give you a home in the middle of just completed Sandpiper Court.”
Keith shook his head then put his hands on his hips, indignant. “*Really*? You know that’s out of the Fantasy Zone. How will we dream?”
“That’s the price. It’s either that in (the bank’s) estimation. Or the truth about the room. Your truth.”
Keith exhaled loudly, then laughed nervously again, shifting his feet in place. After a pause he threw up his hands. “*Okay*.”
“Great,” exuded Todd A. “And you can keep your job at the bank. It’s too good of a cover.”
(to be continued?)
Sunklands 