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"Not that odd, sir," Sienna said politely, "what is this person's name?"
"Kora Evans," I said.
After some impressively swift typing on her computer terminal, Sienna came up with the appropriate info.
"She isn't here right now. She is a trainee masseuse and only here for certain hours during training."
"Do you have a contact for her?" I asked.
"Of course."
"Can I have it?" I asked, trying to be patient.
"That depends on who you are."
"A question philosophers have yet to answer," I said, feeling a bit naughty.
"No, I-I mean what is your name?" she asked, seeming confused.
"Oh, I see," I said feigning enlightenment, "my name is Logan."
"First name or last name?" Sienna asked.
I realized later that this would have been a great time to lie. Say that my last name was Logan and my first name was John. But I wasn't really thinking that way at the time. I really just wanted to be there for Kora and our baby.
"First name," I said.
"Could you spell that?" Sienna asked, going completely by the book.
"L-o-g-a-n," I said, resisting the urge to slam my head into the desk out of sheer frustration.
Sienna did some more things, likely looking up who she was allowed to give Kora's contact information to.
"Sorry," she said, scanning the screen, "you're not on the list of -"
"Sienna, shut up."
Sienna and I looked over to the receptionist her left. The Latin term is "sinister" for a reason.
"What is your last name, sir?" the inquisitor asked, staring daggers at me.
Again, a great place to have lied, but I was so obvious by that point that she would have likely seen right through me.
"Parker."
"You have to go," the inquisitor said, "now."
But I didn't go. Not out of rebellion but surprise. I honestly didn't understand what she was taking about. The receptionist on the right looked something up on her computer.
"Sienna, come with me," she said.
"O-okay," Sienna said, looking from me to her desk mate, appearing almost as confused as I felt.
The receptionist on the right was leading her away like I was some kind of dangerous pervert. The receptionist on the left put her hand on the receiver of her phone.
"You've got ten seconds and I am calling the cops," she said.
"I-"
"Ten, nine, eight -"
I was through the door before she got to seven. There was once a time I would have acted like an asshole. Asked the receptionist if she knew who I was. And if she didn't, I would have pointed out that my grandpa had golfed with the police commissioner and dined with most of the judges on the local circuit.
I would have just needed to mention his name in conjunction with mine and most of the cops on the city force would have just walked away. A few of the newcomers trying to do everything right or old war horses who liked to go by the book might have taken me in, but I would have been home in time for dinner.
I just didn't have the energy anymore. I was pretty fucking dismayed that Kora had apparently told her co-workers such bad things about me that they were prepared to call the cops if I showed up.
"Any luck, sir?" Sarah asked as I got into the back of the limo.
She had really only tacked the "sir" on the end as a matter of procedure. I may be paying her, but we had long ago gone past the usual employee-boss relationship. She had driven for my grandpa and so I had known her for years.
She also knew about most of what had happened with grandpa and dad. She didn't say anything, being far too tactful for that, but she knew. It was king of strange but, other than Kristen, Sarah was the closest thing I had to a real friend. It was probably why she didn't mind me calling her up three hours before her shift started today for a "special assignment."
I had tried to pay her extra, but she had refused. I guessed she knew what it was about and was willing to work pro bono. She likely knew what happened to bring Kristen around so quickly a few months before, and that no doubt played a role in her decision.
"Not at all."
"Not the right place?" she asked, starting up the limo.
"It was; that wasn't the problem. She wasn't there and there is apparently some kind of black mark on me. The person I was talking to was nice, if a bit frustrating; she was in training, but the harpies on either side of her were total bitches. Sorry."
"It's cool," Sarah said, even though I had seen her flinch at the word.
"They saw something on the computer and threatened to call the cops, but not before shepherding the attractive young assistant away like I was going to whip out my cock and jerk off on her. Again, pardon my language. I just can’t fucking believe this."
