Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 57675 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 288(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57675 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 288(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
Ryder snorts.
“Yeah, but how much did it cost?”
I nod.
“Well, I happened to talk to the groom’s uncle, who was standing there overseeing the festivities. He said it was $35,000 for an hour because the city decrees that when you block off a street, a firetruck has to be there in case of emergencies. If the city charges $35,000 to block off a New York street for an hour, then maybe they’ll let us rent a station to ourselves for a few hours too. Anything’s possible.”
Ryder rolls his eyes but then shrugs.
“It sounds insane,” he says. “But why not? Give it a try because the worst they can say is no. Do you even know who to contact for this?”
I smirk.
“Well, my Uncle Larry is a City Councilman. I bet he knows someone, or at least who to put us in touch with this.”
I pull out my cell. It rings a couple times, and Larry picks up.
“Hey Ranger,” he belts into the phone in a boisterous manner. “What’s going on with my favorite nephew?”
I smile into the phone.
“Hey Uncle Larry,” I say. “Long time no see. I just have a favor to ask …”
He chortles.
“What’s the point of having a relative for a politician if you don’t get a couple favors here and there?”
I laugh a little.
“Well, I’m not looking for anything illegal, don’t worry. It’s just that I was wondering how much it costs to rent out a fire station for a couple hours. Is that even possible? Or is it completely against city policy?”
My uncle harrumphs on the other side of the phone.
“Why would you need to rent out a fire station? Are you planning on practicing medicine there?”
I laugh, trying to sound casual as my brain goes into overdrive.
“We’re looking into doing some charity work,” I fib lightly. “You know, plastic surgery for kids and all that. There are children born with cleft palates, and a lot of them need surgery within the first few years of life. We thought having a post-op celebration might be a nice gesture for kids who’ve already had a couple surgeries before they’re five.”
Immediately, my uncle’s on board.
“Oh sure, that sounds great,” he chortles. “In fact, let me put my office manager in touch with you. Leonora can handle it all. She’ll book everything. I think the going rate is $100,000 for an afternoon, but since it’s for charity, maybe she can get FDNY to reduce the price.”
This is moving too fast, and I quickly put on the brakes.
“No, no, it’s fine,” I say. “Actually, how about if we come by first to tour the place? Is that okay? I’ll put down a deposit if FDNY wants, and bring my … ahem, events manager by so that we can see the space and determine if it’s suitable for a kiddie event. Would that work?”
Uncle Larry’s already on it.
“Sure,” he says. “You know, I know Bobby Gimmer over at Ladder 18 down in Chinatown. You want to take a look at that space?”
“That’d be great,” I say gratefully. “Thanks, Uncle Larry. Totally appreciate it. This is all for a good cause, so you won’t regret it.”
Uncle Larry chortles again and says, “Hopefully I can parlay this into something to put on my website. You know, City Councilmember Larry Stevens connects with sick children. That sort of thing. I’ll be in touch. Stay cool, Ranger. Not that you aren’t always cool.”
With a smile, I hang up. Uncle Larry is a good guy. He taught sixth grade up until about ten years ago when he was bitten by the political bug. He ran for the school board first, and then was elected county foreman. Now, he’s on city council and happy as a clam. He says it melds his commitment to public service as well as his great love for the city.
I don’t want to let him down either. Although my idea came at the spur of a moment, maybe doing some charity work for kids is a good thing. Ryder and I certainly know how to fix cleft palates, even though we don’t see it much in our current practice.
“It sounds like you’re thinking about opening up a charity,” says my business partner wryly from his desk.
“You heard the phone call?” I ask.
“Loud and clear,” he says in a dry tone. “So we’re going to look at Station 18 down in Chinatown with the supposed goal of assessing whether it’s right for a children’s party? Because we’re now doing pro bono work for kids who need their smiles fixed?”
I shrug.
“Okay, so it was a little out there, but you know what? It’s not a bad idea. We love kids, and we want to be fathers too. This is a great way for us to use our skills for children. Plus, we’ve been making so much money that it seems obscene not to spend it in a way that’s meaningful. Why not?” I ask. “We’ll kill two birds with one stone: help children, and make Bethany happy.”