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Two women sit at reception. Older women, probably in their forties or fifties. One has some graying at her light-brown temples, and the other has her hair pulled back in a dirty-blond bun.
“I’m not sure either of us are going to have sway,” I say.
“We’ve got to try.”
“Let’s go together. We’ll turn on as much charm as we can and hope that one of them bites.”
Donny and I advance to the reception station, both turning on our most dazzling smiles.
Gray Temples looks up, returns my smile—or Donny’s smile. I can’t tell which one. “May I help you gentlemen?”
“Yes, you can,” Donny says. “A friend of ours is here visiting someone, and we’d like to pay our respects as well.”
“Of course. What is the name of the patient?”
“Lamone,” Donny says.
Gray Temples taps on her computer. “I don’t see a Lamone… Crap. My computer froze up. Genevieve, can you check?”
“Sure. What was the name again?” Blond Bun—Genevieve, apparently—lifts her eyebrows at me.
I smile, giving her a look at my pearly whites and jawline.
No reaction.
Great.
“Lamone,” I say, making my voice as low and sexy as I can muster.
In fact, I sound kind of creepy.
“Sure. Let me take a look.” Genevieve taps.
“What’s your name?” Donny asks Gray Temples.
“Mercy. What’s yours?”
I freeze. Should we tell them who we are?
“Steel,” Donny says. “Donovan Steel.”
I guess we can tell them who we are.
“Donny Steel? OftheSteels?” Mercy gushes.
“Yes, that’s me. This is my cousin Brock Steel.”
I switch my attention from Genevieve to Mercy. “It’s lovely to meet you, Mercy.”
“The pleasure is mine. Genevieve, did you find the patient?”
“I’m sorry, but there’s no patient with the last name of Lamone at the hospital.”
“Oh my,” Donny says. “We just assumed that was the last name. It’s the last name of our friend. Pat Lamone. He told us he was going to be here today to visit his sick relative, and we wanted to be here to show him support.”
“How nice of you,” Mercy says. “Genevieve, isn’t that nice?”
“Yeah. Nice.” Genevieve doesn’t crack a smile.
