Chapter 25 #3
It’s after noon, so Giselle is definitely at TopPick.
I head there instead of her home. Twenty-two minutes later, I pull up.
TopPick is discreetly located on a corner lot in the outermost area of the Crescent Pointe neighborhood.
Just like her house, the business has been remodeled and expanded over the years to its current size and grandeur.
After parking, I enter on the lower level. The two-story house has a huge open-air concept. There’s a desk a few feet from the front door where Talitha, the day receptionist and her assistant, greets me. Because she knows who I am, she waves me in.
I walk through the massive waiting area with a bar where clients can sit, enjoy drinks, and mingle with ladies who are not on dates.
Giselle’s huge office, the kitchen, the dining area, and a lounge are also on this level.
Upstairs are two more lounge areas with bars and five private bedrooms, each with ensuite baths.
Giselle’s door is open, indicating she’s free, so I walk right into her glamorous office.
Everything is white with accents of pink and gold.
There’s thick, white, fluffy carpet, and all-white, antique-style furniture.
She’s sitting at her glass top, clear, antique gold desk on the phone.
When she notices me, she smiles, stands, then meets me in her seating area.
“I thought I was coming to you,” she says.
After closing her door, I say, “My husband made me take a day off.”
“I really like him,” she says before embracing me. As soon as we are on her high-backed, white sofa, she adds, “I’m sorry again. I feel horrible.”
“Well, like I said last night. You shouldn’t feel any way. Richardson is a desperate ass and he was wrong for that lie, for even bringing you up. I’m fine and Quintus’s investigator is going to find out what Richardson actually knows,” I say and she relaxes into the sofa.
“Well, he can’t know shit. You know how I operate. Besides, your little twenty-minute date isn’t anywhere in my books.”
“And he wouldn’t tell,” I add.
“Of course not. He used my service that one night and that was it. I don’t even remember where he lived, but he wasn’t from here. He was at some conference, right?”
“Yeah, something with accounting. His name was Samuel.”
“Samuel was his date name,” she says, then abruptly stands. “I have the phone.”
“The phone? What phone? For what?”
“I wasn’t so high tech in the beginning.
All my clients and girls were in my notes on my old business cell.
I still have it. Let me get it. Close your eyes,” she says seriously.
A few minutes later, she says, “You can open them.” She’s walking back to me with two phones in her hand and a charger cord.
“His real information is in here. I can try to call. If he’s like me, he has the same number. ” She shrugs.
“It’s worth a try,” I admit. He’s the only other person aside from my friends, and now, Quintus, who would know about the date.
“While it charges, do you want something to drink?” she asks.
“I could use one of your Thai teas,” I say. She’s more of a tea than coffee girl and she has this special Thai tea she orders. Talitha has mastered making the sweet, creamy, and spiced iced tea. I get one every time I’m here.
“I can use one too,” she says, then sends a text to Talitha. About five minutes later, we have our delicious tea and the phone has enough charge for her to power it on. “Oh, I found it,” she says with a relief-filled sigh. “You ready?”
“Yeah,” I say, nodding.
She dials the number on her actual cell and places it on the table in front of her. It rings a few times then a soft female voice answers.
“Hello.”
“Hi. Is Martin available?” Giselle asks.
Martin? He definitely didn’t look like a Martin.
“Who is this?” the woman asks.
“Oh, yeah. I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Lyn. I presented with him a few years back during a conference here in Crescent Falls,” she lies, using her middle name.
“I’m sorry. And how long ago was this?”
“A while. Almost ten years ago,” Giselle says.
“Oh.” The woman sighs loudly. “Ten years. So you don’t know?”
“Know what?” Giselle asks.
“Martin passed two years ago, an aneurism,” she says and damn. Giselle and I both raise our heads. Our eyes reveal our shock.
“I’m so sorry to hear that. My deepest, deepest condolences,” Giselle says sincerely.
“Thank you,” the woman replies, then there are a few long seconds of silence. “I’m sorry, why were you calling again?” Luckily, Giselle comes up with something.
“The conference is in a few months. I’m the chair this year and was just reaching out because I noticed we didn’t have his registration.”
“Oh okay…Well, you have a good day,” the lady says and Giselle ends the call.
“Wow,” she sighs.
“Yeah…wow!” I repeat.
“At least you know Richardson couldn’t have gotten the information from him. That’s leaves us, Kyrah, and Alex and none of us?—”
I complete her thought. “Would ever. I think Quintus is right. Richardson was bluffing.”
“And if he is, expose his lying ass,” Giselle says.