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If it wasn’t for Gemma, I wouldn’t even know Katie works there.
Maybe I won’t see her. Not that I don’t want to, but I have a feeling she’d be pissed after the way she reacted the other day.
She got a job promotion last year and is a loan officer. Gemma says she has her own fancy office, so I might be able to avoid her completely.
Inhaling a deep breath, I walk across the street, then step inside the small lobby. Only two tellers are working, and one chair sits in the waiting area.
“How can I help you, sir?” the young woman asks. She might not actually know who I am. Her name tag says Missy.
“I’m looking to open a checking account.”
“Have you banked with us before?”
“No, well…yes. Years ago.”
“Okay, no problem. I’ll see if a banker is available to help set that up for you. You can take a seat while you wait.”
“I appreciate that, thank you.”
I turn around and am immediately greeted with a death glare.
Katie.
And she looks less than happy to see me.
“Hi—”
“What’re you doin’ here?” she nearly hisses. “Coming to my house uninvited wasn’t enough?”
“He needs to open a checking account,” Missy interjects. “But Jasmine isn’t answering her phone.”
“I just sent her on break,” she grumbles, then looks at me. “You’ll have to come back in an hour when she returns.”
“There aren’t any appointments on your schedule, Katie,” Missy says, and I can hear the smile in her tone. “Perhaps you can help set him up.”
Katie grinds her teeth, an awful habit she’s had since middle school, and I hold back a smile at how frustrated she is. I need to give that teller a high five. She’s obviously on my side.
“I’d really appreciate it,” I speak up. “I’ve been running errands all day and would like to get this done as soon as possible.”
“Fine,” she snaps, narrowing her eyes. She walks down a hallway, and I quickly follow but flash the teller a wink before she’s out of sight.
“We have two types of checking accounts, Mr. Reid.” She slaps a brochure in front of me as I take a seat. “I assume the traditional, but—”
“What’re the perks of each one?” I smugly ask as she sits behind the desk.
Katie shoots daggers at me while plastering on a professional smile. She gives me the spiel on each type, and after pretending to think about it for a moment, I decide on the traditional.
“Just as I expected,” she mutters to herself as she logs into her computer.
“I need to see your ID please.”
“Just got a new one, actually,” I say, hoping she’ll hold an actual conversation with me. “The DMV got a remodel since I last saw it.”
She grabs it without a word and starts typing in my information.
“I need your social security number too.”
“On one condition.”
