Chapter 5 Tiff
Ilooked at my phone for what felt like the hundredth time since they had sat me in the empty waiting room. Susan had left me there with assurances that someone would come to meet me soon and guide me, but so far I was alone.
I sighed impatiently. I didn’t want to play games on my phone while I waited for them to come to collect me. It would be unprofessional.
They could’ve offered me a little more than a glass of their milk, I thought. At first, I refused to drink any of it, shifting my weight from one butt-cheek to the other as I sat on the single hardwood bench in the room and occasionally checked my phone for the time.
I’d been there for one hour and my tour hadn’t started. No one had come to explain what the hold-up was either. If I was a Federal Agent, I’d be flunking them on the inspection out of pettiness.
My blood ran cold. What if they had seen through my cover? What if they were holding me there to wait for the police?
I got up and started pacing.
The room was hotter than expected too. I fanned myself, trying to calm down.
It had to be my panic, not the temperature.
The A/C had been blowing earlier. Either way, I was thirsty and the sweating glass of milk started to look tempting.
So, I finally gave in and moved to grab it, taking a small sip just to banish the dryness from my mouth.
I had never tasted Sunshine Sanctuary’s milk before.
As I did, I understood why they charged twenty-five bucks a carton in Trader Joe’s and why so many people paid it.
It was delicious, naturally sweet and creamy, just thick enough to get that velvety smooth texture without being too thick.
It was just fatty enough to grease the tongue and throat and go down easy without leaving an unpleasant film on one’s mouth.
I couldn’t resist it; I had to take a larger sip of it and swish it around my mouth to allow my taste buds to get the full flavor before swallowing again.
This is fucking delicious, I realized, a little dismayed.
After my bout of pacing, I sat once again and waited.
My eyes kept going back to the glass waiting for me on that side table.
Before I knew it, I was drinking it again and again.
Large gulps each time until it was empty.
With some guilt from enjoying what was likely the result of really shady animal exploitation, I felt a pleasant, warm and fuzzy feeling.
A couple of minutes after I placed the empty glass down, the door from which I had entered opened and Susan came in, carrying a tray with a full glass of milk.
“Susan, can you go check what’s taking so l-” I began, but she walked right by me, replacing the glass and walking away with the old one. She closed the door without acknowledging me.
I got up to chase after her, but the door didn’t open. I gave the knob a couple of strong pulls and shakes and found it unyielding from my side. Am I locked in? I thought, with an edge of panic.
Either someone was cranking the heat higher or my anxiety was literally sweating out of me.
My eyes went to the cold glass of milk, freshly brought.
Begrudgingly, I took it, drinking it all in large gulps in a single motion.
I was still a little parched, but it helped.
As I placed it down, I could swear I caught a glimpse of movement in the large mirror.
I approached it and pushed my head against the mirror to try and look deeper.
A door clicked open and Susan marched in again.
By the time I turned, she had already replaced the empty glass with a full one.
Even as I called her and rushed towards the door, I couldn’t reach it before it closed.
Something fishy is going on, I thought. Looking at the fresh, cool glass .
.. I had to admit, I was still a little thirsty.
I ended up drinking my third full glass, knocked on Susan’s door, and called out for anyone to speak to me. I got no response. Then I felt a familiar pressure in my lower belly. I had to pee. Badly. All that milk was a bad idea…
I turned towards the door that I assumed headed into the offices. I’ll find a bathroom, one way or another, I decided while squeezing my thighs together.
Just as I was about to turn the knob, the door opened from the other side.
A blond, handsome man with strong ‘daddy’ vibes in his dignified, middle age posture appeared, wearing an impeccable white suit with a white tie adorned with a pattern that mimicked cow spots.
I was ready for the expected look of contemptuous disgust I got from most men as he walked into the room and scanned me.
Instead, he smiled, seemingly pleased, and took my hand.
“Carter Hill, CEO of Sunshine Sanctuary Dairy & Derivatives," he introduced himself, kissing my knuckles like a gentleman out of a Victorian novel. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Auble.”
I blushed. I was so moved by his simple kindness and politeness and the lack of disgust in his eyes that I almost missed that he was the actual CEO. If I could record him admitting to any malpractice, that would be the biggest win in the history of investigative activism. I was scared and excited.
And I really had to pee.