Chapter 5 #2
She rolls her eyes. “If it’s too messy, you can call Pres, and he’ll fix it for you.
Believe it or not, but this will streamline your process and make for fewer hours chained to your desk.
By the time you’re done with the body and ready to work on your formal reports, much of the information will have auto-populated.
I estimate we’re about thirty percent through the install.
Spence is doing the heavy lifting, Pres is working on security, and Griff is building the beast that’ll run it all.
You’ll get keycards to swipe for access, but your system will come with voice activation and biometric security measures, too.
Pres will be on site at least once a year, every single year, to re-code and clean up your access files.
If you hire someone new, contact him, and he’ll get them set up.
If you fire someone, contact him, and he’ll wash them out of your system, so they won’t be able to access the building beyond the lobby.
Ya know, in case the breakup isn’t entirely harmonious. ”
The breakup.
“What if Pres dies?” I tease. “Or quits. Or what if you and I break up and I don’t want Checkmate to have their noses in my business anymore?”
A slow, sly smile stretches her lips wide.
“We’re blood-in now, Chief. If you insist on kicking me out, I’m gonna need you to submit a forty-nine-page, double-spaced, nine-point, indented statement outlining why you think you get to escape me.
Then file it in the closest paper shredder, add cream cheese, and shove the entire machine up your sphincter, because I won’t accept it anyway. ”
My desk phone trills with an internal call I don’t particularly want to pick up. Whenever my public relations slash assistant-esque chick calls my line, it’s because someone else wants to talk to me.
And dammit, I so rarely want to talk to them.
Entirely too entertained, Soph merely bounces her foot. Up. Down. Up. Down. “You might wanna get that, Chief. Could be important.”
Gah!
Surging forward, I snatch up the phone and bring it to my ear. “This is Chief Mayet.”
“Hi, Chief. I have Mayor Lawrence on line three. He says it’s quite urgent.”
“Fine.” I keep the phone wedged between my shoulder and ear, disconnect our call, and select line three. “Mayor? Is everything okay?”
“Chief.” Urgent, my ass. I hear no screeching tires. No screaming victims. Not even a hand-wringing Fifi as her heels clack-clack-clack across tile. “You’re a difficult woman to reach. You were out of the office all day yesterday?”
“Yeah. I had some personal matters to attend to.” I slump back in my chair and ignore Soph’s quiet snicker. “You had something urgent to discuss?”
“Oh, right! Yes. I’m told you’re allergic to peanuts. Is that correct?”
“I… uh…” Stunned, I blink, blink, blink and search for sense. “What?”
“I don’t doubt Ms. Lewis’ word, but considering allergic reactions can vary from itchy spots on a person’s skin, all the way to anaphylaxis and actual death, I thought it prudent to gather the specificities from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.”
“The…” God. Why isn’t my brain working? “What?”
“Allergies, Chief Mayet?” He hardens his tone and leaves no room for my umming and uhhing. “Peanuts?”
“Y-yes. I’m allergic to peanuts. The kind of allergic that would make it difficult for me to breathe if I ate any, but not the kind that prevents someone else from enjoying them in the same room.”
“Good. Thank you.” I swear, I hear the tap-tap-tap of a computer keyboard. “Any other allergies?”
“Ahh… nope?”
He stops typing and chuckles. “Are you unsure, Chief?”
“No. I’m just unsure why you’re asking me.” I sit forward and set my elbows on my desk. “Why do you care?”
“Because we’re having dinner at my house.” He pauses for a beat, then, “Tonight.”
I let out a loud laugh. It scratches my throat and burns a little on the way up. Jesus, it makes my stomach tumble and my heart flip. And since Soph can’t hear Justin’s end of the call, it makes her eyes narrow.
“Are you high?” I massage my temple with the tips of my fingers and pray for this phone call not to turn into a headache.
“Does Fifi know you’re running the city while under the influence?
I feel like if she did, she’d wheel you into a broom closet and lock you away until the effects of whatever you took taper off. ”
“I am not high,” he drawls slowly. Firmly. “I told you last week, Chief. My daughter is visiting this week, and since she is, I’m hosting dinner at my house. That night is tonight.”
“I’m not coming to dinner at your house tonight! I didn’t agree to this.”
“Janine’s already working on the menu,” he grits out. “She’s at the grocery store right now, and as of about thirty seconds ago, she received confirmation regarding the status of your allergies.”
“Justin!”
“I assure you, you are coming to dinner at my home tonight, Chief. I expect to see you there at seven o’clock on the dot.”
“Justi—”
“Jen is in town,” he pushes on. “As is her husband.”
Yeah, no shit! He’s in my building right now.
“Ms. Solomon is in Copeland, too. I was thrilled to hear she’s not only accompanied by her husband, but by her children, too. Hosting a couple of bubbly, giggly little girls at my dinner table again will be…” He exhales a happy sigh. “It would make my entire year better.”
I swing accusing eyes back to Soph’s and glare.
“It sounds to me like your dinner table is already overflowing,” I growl. “Give my seat to one of the Bishop children, since you want so badly to spend an evening with them.”
“We have enough seats for everyone. I’ll see you at seven, Chief. Perhaps you could bring a bottle of wine.”
“You want me to bring something?”
Soph covers her mouth, snickering behind her hand and yelping at the stack of Post-its I snatch up and lob at her face.
“You invite me to this event,” I grit out, “demanding I come, though I’d rather not, and now you’re telling me I have to stop by a liquor store and spend my money on wine I probably won’t ever get to taste? What kind of hokey-ass crap is this?”
“It’s called dinner etiquette. Though I’m not surprised you don’t know this stuff, since Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood never focused on the dos and don’ts of alcohol consumption. Seven o’clock, Chief.”
“But—”
“Sharp.”
He ends our call with a click.
“What the shit!?” I drop my phone into the cradle and glare at my least favorite ballerina. “You jackass! You knew he was calling, and you knew damn well why. Didn’t think to warn me?”
“Why would I warn you when watching you melt down is way more entertaining?” She tosses my Post-its back onto my desk and pops lithely to her feet.
“Also, that time you were super cranky at me, and I kept trying to apologize with Snickers bars?” She steps around her chair and presses her hands to the back.
“Snickers have peanuts, Mayet! I was trying to say sorry, but you didn’t think to tell me my offerings actually translated to ‘ha ha, I hope you die, bitch’? That’s messed up!”
“I threw your dumb candy bars in the trash, and then I said… like…” My brain still isn’t working properly! “I was saying the ha ha I hope you die thing to you. I tossed them and said—”
“Yikes.” She flashes a smug grin and dances back a few feet.
“Your smack talk is lame, girlfriend. One of us spent a little time on the streets, the other waffled about in a cartoon neighborhood. I’m gonna get back to work, and you can spend the rest of the afternoon practicing your comebacks and sly barbs.
Then you can try them out at dinner. Tonight. ”
I pick up my metal ruler and surge to my feet.
“At seven o’clock!” She darts to the door and whips it open. “Don’t forget the wine, Chief.”