Toni Petti LIVE

Chapter Five

"What happened?" Amelia holds her phone and continues to record the Cadillac as it drives away down the street.

"I caught a gig."

"From them?" She's mortified. "Really?"

"Yeah. Cash job." I show her the money and her eyes light up. She stops recording on her phone and looks at me with new curiosity.

"What do you have to do?"

"Hah." I chuckle uncomfortably at what her tone implies. "Nothing Illegal." I hope that's true. No matter what I tell her, the assignment will seem suspicious. That's because Chantwell's request is weird and there's no normalizing the activity to which I'm now committed. "It's just some camera work." I direct Amelia back towards our building.

We walk and I check my phone. There's countless new YouTube and Facebook app notifications. Marcy texted. She saw the video and wants to congratulate me. My mom replied to the voice mail. She sent a text which reads 'Your cheques are here, we want to talk.' Then two minutes later she added, 'Grant wants you to send a note that acknowledges your debt to us.' I notice how she writes us and it breaks my heart because she always used to be on my team first.  But I do have to factor in my three infant stepbrothers and how that must change her perspective. I'll agree right away. I promised to repay the money and I'll do it, just not during a global pandemic. Life is hard enough without being broke. 

Ahh, but I'm not broke. I have four hundred dollars in my back pocket! Of course there are strings attached. I have to shoot surveillance video tonight and every part of me believes this strange assignment is going to be wickedly dangerous, somehow.

The security team in the lobby of Neill Wycik is extra vigilant. Three beefcakes in neon green jackets with inch-wide reflective trim are always on duty here and there are cameras everywhere. That's because we live in a dangerous area. The two major north-south arteries to the east, Jarvis and Parliament Street are both well known conduits for drugs and prostitutes, and the side streets have higher-than-average crime levels. There's lots of warnings on the walls in the entrance of our building. 

The two streets that Chantwell wants me record are west of here however, and just north of Ryerson's main campus. They're in a well lit area that's considered safe, albeit off-the-beaten-path. There's a popular breezeway on the west side which accesses College Park on Yonge St. I've taken that shortcut myself although I never explored the area beyond. What will I find there?

"Amelia, let's take a trip to the roof." There's only two people ahead of us in line to use the elevator. That means they'll get the next lift and we'll get the following one.

"Okay." She agrees. "But why?"

"Research." I still have a few hours before tonight's assignment and I want to see what the streets in the coffee stain look like from two hundred feet above. That's because I know it'll help me prepare for the expedition mentally, and psychologically.

"Sure," Amelia holds up her phone, "but we're not on the list."

"The list?"

"You.. Don't know?" Amelia lifts her mask so she can whisper audibly. "It's a boy's party."

"It is?" I hadn't expected the rooftop to be booked on a Tuesday night. But how would I know? I never check the Neill Wycik website or use their mobile app. I generally ignore the Community Schedule as most residents here are either foreigners or fulltime university students into very different things than me. There are never any workshops on street photography, citizens' rights or civil disobedience or anything I might find useful and attend.