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“Yeah, yeah,” smirked Gaspar. “Get the hell out of here, and don’t bring anything back with fur, scales, wings, or teeth. In fact, don’t bring back anything at all. Just yourselves. Nothing else. Not even a goldfish. Are we clear?”
“Gotcha,” nodded the men in unison.
“Not even a goldfish. What about a little baby lizard? Or maybe a frog? Frogs are good,” said Baptiste.
“Baptiste, don’t make me hurt you,” said Gaspar, shaking his head.
“Let’s go,” said Baptiste. “I’m suddenly hungry for meat.”
“Jesus, I hate you guys sometimes.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Baptiste, Miller, and Pork pulled into Burns Laboratories. It was vastly different than the others they’d been to in that they had no real security. It was a plain, single-story cinderblock building. Rather ugly, but it had decent signage for those trying to find it.
“This feels different,” said Pork.
“Agreed, which makes me nervous,” said Baptiste. “We’re supposed to be talking to Shawn Burns, the head of the labs.”
“Let’s go,” said Miller. “I’m getting old just standing around.”
“You’re already old, and you’re cranky as fuck,” said Baptiste.
His brother gave him a smack to the back of the head, and the men laughed, walking toward the door. Fully expecting it to have a video camera or guard, they were surprised when they walked inside and there was no one. There was no waiting area, no receptionist, nothing.
Pork waved them down the long corridor. The first two doors were closed, but the third was wide open.
“Oh, hello,” said an older woman. “How can I help you, gentlemen?”
“We’re here to see Shawn Burns,” said Baptiste. “We called yesterday to make an appointment.”
“Oh, yes. The gentlemen concerned about the animal testing.” None of them wanted to correct her, so they just nodded. “Shawn is out sick today. Poor dear is out a lot lately. We don’t use animals to test our products here or conduct research.”
“You don’t? But aren’t you required to have some testing before putting a product into the market?” asked Miller.
“Perhaps it’s better if I show you,” she said. “My name is Chelsea. I’ve been the facility manager, human resource manager, girl Friday since I came more than twenty years ago. I love working for Mr. Burns, and I love the people we have working for us.”
She continued to chatter as they followed her down the hallway. She’d stop now and then, speaking to someone in their office.
“Morning, Ted. How are the twins? Oh, I know. They get big quick. Have a good day.”
“Morning, Leigh. Getting ready for the wedding? I’m excited to see you in that beautiful dress.”
The men stared at one another, wondering if perhaps Chelsea knew Irene. She seemed to know every detail about everyone working in the building. When she slowed, they stared at her, then she pointed behind them. A huge room was filled with men and women, all relaxing in lounge chairs.
Beside each were glasses of juice, milk, soda, other liquids, and plates of fruit, cookies, cakes, and other sweet treats.
“What is this?” frowned Miller. “Are those homeless men and women? Are you testing on homeless people?” His anger was bubbling fast, but it was his little brother who gripped his arm.
“Young man, we develop lotions. Creams for hydrating and itching. They smell pretty, they make your skin feel nice, and they harm absolutely no one,” she smirked. “Now, on occasion, folks will get a rash because they’re allergic to something in the lotion that they weren’t even aware of. But ninety-nine percent of the time they leave fed with hydrated skin and smelling good. We even have showers for them to use before they go.
“My staff and I keep donation bins for clothing so that when they’re done with their shower, they can put on new clothes and leave here feeling better about themselves. That’s what we do here.”
She smiled at the three men as they looked at the room of people, then back at her, then back at the people. They all seemed happy, laughing and talking as if it were a coffee break.
“That man must be seventy,” said Pork.
“He’s seventy-three,” smiled Chelsea. “That’s Dorn Rogers. He’s been coming in here for years now. Not every day, but a few times a week. He gets his shower in, gets some food and liquids in his body, and leaves smellin’ like he’s headed to a dance.” She chuckled, making all the men smirk.
