Chapter 2

Over the next few days, though, Curly's Mom's revenge came right on schedule.

For three days straight, not a single customer walked into the shop.

Even neighbors passing by would stop in front of my door and spit hard on the ground.

That was when the landlady I'd always gotten along with best showed up out of nowhere, her face like a storm cloud.

"Dani, I'm not renting this place to you anymore. Move out."

I set down the phone screen I'd been wiping.

"Aunt Vera, there's still two years on the lease."

Her eyes slid away from mine, but her tone was full of disgust.

"I'll eat the penalty for breaking it. Curly's Mom told everybody already."

"Said you got passed around and used up by a bunch of older men in the big city, cleaned out of all your money, and slunk back home with your tail between your legs."

"A woman with a past like that, hanging on here at my place. It's bad luck, that's what it is."

A ripple of stifled laughter came from outside.

I didn't have to look to know Curly's Mom had brought her crowd to eavesdrop at the wall.

Something cold settled in my chest, but I kept it off my face. I pulled out the lease we'd signed at the start and pointed at the penalty clause.

"Aunt Vera, according to the contract, terminating without cause means you owe three times the rent plus depreciation on the renovations. Eighty-five thousand, all told."

"The moment that money hits my account, I'm gone."

The instant she heard how much she'd have to pay, her expression shifted. She muttered a few sour words under her breath, then turned and left.

Curly's Mom's ringing laugh carried in from outside.

"Well? Didn't get thrown out, huh? Doesn't matter. It's only a matter of time."

Watching their backs as they walked off, I dialed Director Finch at the community center.

"Director Finch, that senior anti-fraud outreach program you kept bringing up. I'll take it."

There were a few seconds of silence on the other end, then a delight he couldn't hold back.

"Oh, Engineer Henson, you're finally coming out of retirement."

"This neighborhood's fraud-prevention work doesn't move an inch without your technical support, I swear."

"I'll fast-track it right now. The special grant and the equipment will be over to you this afternoon."

I'd figured a few years grinding away at a major tech company had worn my body down enough, and I'd come home to run a quiet little business.

But the shop wasn't going to stay quiet anyway, so I might as well do something that mattered.

Before long the approved grant paperwork and the teaching equipment arrived at my shop.

I redid the layout and hung up a banner marking it as a community-designated cybersecurity service point.

Every afternoon, I taught the neighborhood's older folks an anti-fraud class in the shop.

"Never, ever tap a link like this. Tap it and your phone stops being yours."

"Anyone who asks you to transfer money to 'verify' something is a scammer. A hundred percent."

The seniors listened closely. Some jotted notes in little pads, some held up their reading glasses to photograph the screen.

And that wasn't all. After class, I taught them how to make video calls to their kids far away,

how to build a folder in the phone's photo album to keep pictures of their grandkids.

Stanley Chavez was a retired principal. The first time he managed to send a voice message, he was so worked up his lips were shaking.

"Dani's got real patience. My daughter loses it after teaching me three times. You went eight rounds and never once got mad."

I smiled. "Come by anytime you've got a question, Stanley."

He went home and told his daughter, who happened to be an operations director at a publicly traded company.

That weekend she came into my shop and bought her dad a new phone, and before she left she got my number.

"Boss Henson, from now on our company will come to you for phone accessories too."

That kind of word-of-mouth rolled like a snowball, and more and more seniors showed up for the classes.

Their kids sent more and more business my way.

Curly's Mom saw it all, and it ate at her.

She deliberately hauled out a Bluetooth speaker, aimed it at my shop door, and blasted some trashy club music at full volume.

Stanley clapped his hands over his ears.

"Who is that? How can anyone have so little decency?"

I picked up a basin of dirty mop water, walked to the door, and splashed it right at Curly's Mom's feet.

It spattered up one pant leg, and she shrieked and jumped back.

"Ow! You want to die?"

I held the empty basin and let my face go cold.

"Make trouble at my door again and mess with community outreach, and the next basin goes in your face."

She shook all over with rage, jabbing a finger at me as she cursed.

"You cheap trash, you wait. Sooner or later I'll make sure this outreach point of yours never happens."

I didn't bother answering. I just turned and went back inside.

I'd barely sat down when Lesley Whitney from next door came hurrying in, phone in hand, looking panicked.

"Sweetheart, come take a look. My phone's got some kind of curse on it lately, pop-ups jumping up all the time."

"It just charged me fifty bucks a second ago. Can you check if it's got a virus?"

I took the phone and, out of habit, hooked it up to my computer and ran a scan on the back end.

But the data on the screen sent a cold sweat down my spine on the spot.