Brooklyn crossed her long legs, getting comfortable in her seat. Her arms rested leisurely on the wingback chair that sat adjacent from the large mahogany desk inside the office of Atlantic Bank of New York. Dressed in a black feminine pants suit and white stylish blouse, Brooklyn held her smiled as she watched Brandon McGee speak to someone over the phone. Her leg bounced softly, her red fingernails tapping lightly against the chair. Today she was Jessica Daniels, a business consultant looking to secure a family keepsake in the bank.
“If you need anything else, give me a callback or shoot me an email.” Mr. McGee shook his head up and down, “Yes, that will be fine. Thank you.” He sat the phone back in its cradle and looked to Brooklyn. “I apologize, Ms. Daniels, it seems nothing can be done around here without me.” His face lit up with a smile. “Now, where were we?”
“You were giving me information about your safety deposit boxes.” She said.
“Ah, yes.” He placed his elbows on the desk and enclosed his fingers. “Our safe deposit boxes come in different sizes, the smallest being a 2 by 5 and 12 inches long container. Is there a specific size you’re looking for?”
“The smallest size will do, I’m only needing to keep an ancestry document inside. Let me ask you, would this document need to be insured or will the bank take care of that for me?”
“Unfortunately, the FDIC only insures funds that are in your account, but the box itself is kept in our vault. I would consider it safe but getting insurance is always a good thing.”
“Do you have an account with us, Ms. Daniels?”
“No, I don’t. I’m new to the area so I’m looking to change institutions soon enough, which is why I’m here today.”
“I understand. If you don’t mind me asking, are you from the south? I couldn’t help but notice your accent.”
Taken back by the question, Brooklyn thought a bit longer than necessary on an answer. “I was born in Louisiana.” She lied. “But I’ve lived in DC most of my life. Now I’m looking to settle here in New York.”
“A bit of a traveler I see.”
“Well when I was young I didn’t have much of a choice since it was my parents doing, but now I’ve been presented with an opportunity of a lifetime so moving is only fitting.” Brooklyn had lied before, but after recovering from the shock of his question, the lies eased off her lips like butter. In reality, she was from Savannah Georgia, after her grandparents passed; her mom Constance and father Grant Patterson whisked her and Drew to New York at the age of thirteen. It was amazing that folks could still hear her southern accent, and being questioned about it would always surprise her.
Brooklyn didn’t like being questioned. It was none of his business where she was from and with that thought, she flipped the queries back at him.
“How much is the fee on the box?”
“The smallest boxes are one hundred and forty-four dollars annually but if you prefer it, we could bill you monthly. Would you like to see the room? I’ll show you how you’ll have access if you decide to purchase one with us today.”
Brooklyn beamed, “Of course.”
Mr. McGee rose from his chair and closed his suit jacket. He was a heavyset man and the jacket wasn’t big enough to accommodate his girth while he sat. He wobbled around the desk, “This way please.”
Brooklyn followed him closely glancing at her watch. It laced her wrist seeming just as ordinary as any accessory but a closer look would reveal its true nature. Brooklyn considered herself the nerd of the group. She was brilliant in science and mathematics. It wasn’t often that she applied her genius but sometimes it came in handy. Like with the watch she’d built; it was smart enough to pick up camera sensors as she strolled behind Mr. McGee. It collected information on the position of the red eye lasers that were hidden behind the tinted frame of the security cameras. The days of old fashion casing of banks were over when it came to her. The only thing she needed was to keep her head leveled so none of them would pick up a schematic diagram of her face.
They rounded a corner and pulled up to a large closed vault. Mr. McGee slid his keycard inside and she watched as a variety of lights counted down from red to yellow, then finally green. There was a loud click and the door popped ajar. Mr. McGee pulled the heavy door and they stepped into a metal box that held containers lined up and down against the walls of the room.
Copyright© 2017 by Stephanie Nicole Norris and Deidra D. S. Green