The Girl with the Phony Name by Charles Mathes Read Free Book Online

were black with newsprint and her spirits decidedly dampened. There were no ads for hotel inspectors. Or college dropouts. Or orphans.
    â€œWhat kind of secretary do you think I’d make?” Lucy asked the dresser. The dresser maintained a discreet silence, obviously aware of how rotten her typing was.
    Lucy ignored the hollow feeling in her stomach and started through the listings again. There had to be something she could do, even if it wasn’t the best thing in the world. She had to find something.
    Suddenly she saw it. Lucy read over the ad, again, amazed that she had missed it the first time:

    Entrepreneur needs clever
assistant. Free room and
board. Weehawken, New
Jersey. Contact Mr. Wing .

    There was a phone number with a 201 area code. Wing was a Chinese name. What kind of entrepreneurs did they have in New Jersey? Where was Weehawken, anyway? Could she commute to the city from there?
    Lucy read the magic words again: “Free room and board.” Free room and board! That would solve all her problems. Whatever the job paid, she would come out ahead if she didn’t have to pay rent and buy furniture. The taxes might even be less in New Jersey.
    Lucy picked up the phone, then put it back down.
    What was she getting herself into? This was New York City, after all, not Kankakee. For all she knew this Wing person could be a white slaver. Or an opium merchant. She’d have to be crazy to go off blindly to some strange city on the strength of an ad in the paper!
    Lucy looked at the magic words one more time—“Free room and board”—then dialed the number.
    So she would be careful. She didn’t have to take the job if she didn’t like the looks of things. They might not offer it to her anyway. It couldn’t hurt to check it out, could it?
    No one would be there on Sunday, Lucy knew, but maybe she could leave her name on a machine or with an answering service. Some ads got hundreds of responses. It was important to stand out, make them remember your name. Maybe she’d leave several messages.
    â€œYes, yes, yes?” answered a voice abruptly and none too happily. Lucy was too surprised to hang up. Who worked on Sunday night?
    â€œHello. My name is Lucy Trelaine. I’m calling about your ad in the paper.”
    â€œYou clever person?” It was a comic-book Oriental accent, guttural, the l s crimped, the stresses in the wrong places.
    â€œClever enough to call on Sunday,” she said warily.
    â€œYou have experience?”
    â€œExperience at what?”
    â€œYou ever raise money for new venture, maybe?”

    â€œNo,” said Lucy carefully, “but I have worked extensively in finance and have a good deal of accounting knowledge.”
    â€œWoa!” came the throaty exclamation.
    Lucy felt a little guilty. The financial planner she’d worked for had made his money selling unnecessary insurance policies to little old ladies and the accountant had used her as a human adding machine. But you had to put the best face on your experience, didn’t you?
    â€œI run quality business,” the voice was chattering in her ear. “You quality person?”
    â€œAs a matter of fact, my most recent position was monitoring quality for a national hotel chain.”
    â€œNo kidding?”
    â€œNo kidding,” she said honestly.
    â€œYou brave person?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œYou scared of lot of stuff, maybe?”
    Lucy removed the receiver from her ear and stared at it for a moment, then spoke again.
    â€œMay I ask what kind of business we’re talking about here?” she said.
    â€œVery nice business, please. Service everybody needs, sooner or later.”
    â€œOh? Exactly what service—”
    â€œRucy Trelaine,” he said, mangling her name. “Nice name. Why should I hire you over plenty of others, Rucy Trelaine?”
    â€œWell, I don’t really know. I don’t know what your needs