2 Queenie Baby - Out of Office (18 page)

Carol stared blankly, her eyes magnified by her thick glasses. The two guys sitting down burst into laughter.

"That one crazy MoFo!" hooted one.

The other guy slapped his buddy's hand. "Look, dude should have his own show. He that funny!"

Carol fixed them with a stern look. "Go to work, Bobby. I'll call your supervisor. And don't miss any more time. Do you understand? You need to decide which job is more important." Another key to successful dealings with temp workers—never shatter their delusions. Just play along and hope for the best.

He nodded and headed for the door. "Yes, ma'am. Thanks a lot. I've been thinkin' I should resign from the undercover work. It's not all that much fun really. Just a lot of standing around."

The two guys couldn't stop cracking up. One of them fell on the floor and rolled around. Carol looked down at him from the counter.

"Can I help you gentlemen?" she asked coolly.

"Get up, Jerome," said the guy still in his seat. "Ah, yeah, we lookin' for work. I'm Sean, and this my cousin Jerome. He's smoked a little too much this mornin' an that crazy undercover dude jest set him in a fit."

"How about you?" Carol asked. "Were you smoking this morning?"

"Uh, no ma'am, not since last night. I know better than to smoke an' then look for a job. It don't work out. I got more professionalism than Jerome." He looked over at me and smiled. His front teeth sparkled;  S-H-I-T was etched clearly in his gold grillwork.

Carol nodded as if people walked in everyday wearing a grill that said "shit" and confessed to smoking pot before breakfast. It actually only happened about once a week or so. "I can see that, Sean. But I think we're going to have a problem finding you work as well."

"Why's that?" he asked. He must have sensed his employment chances slipping away, because he was frantically waving his hand at Jerome to get off the floor.

"Well, many of our customers require a clear drug test before I can send you out to work." She paused, waiting for Sean's response.

"That does sound like a problem," he agreed. "Look here, maybe we can just come back in a few days an' then try the test."

"Better give it a few weeks," Carol replied.

Sean nodded and grabbed Jerome's arm.

"Peace out," Sean called.

Carol shook her head trying to clear it.

I smiled and held out my arms. She gave me a quick hug.

"I missed you! How was your trip?" she said.

"Crazy, exciting, unbelievable!"

"Pretty much like every day around here," Carol replied with a laugh.

I nodded and brought her up to speed on events from the trip. "With the tour coming up, I'm not sure how much I'll be able to temp over the summer," I finished.

Carol sighed. "Mr. Greene called and asked to meet with me this afternoon at five. He needs an answer, or he's going to put the place up for sale. Can you stop by? I'd really like your opinion."

"Of course, but you know this business," I insisted. "You're the one who should own it."

"I know, I know." She waved a hand at me. "But it just seems like so much. I met with the accountant and took a close look at the numbers. Once we get all the invoicing problems fixed that David and Charles messed up, it looks quite profitable for the rest of the year. I just don't know if I'm ready to go it alone," she confessed. She took a sip of coffee and munched on a piece of monkey bread.

"Hey, this is my main gig. I depend on this income, and I can't think of a better person to own the agency."

"Nah," she said with a wave of her hand, "you'll be a full-time rock star soon. Your temp days are numbered."

"Not quite there yet," I said brushing crumbs off my hands. "Today I have a vampire to appease."

Carol rolled her eyes. "He's not been a happy camper. By the way, he asked Tabitha to come back today to 'help with the transition.' Whatever that means."

"Can't wait to find out. Did you help him with his special project?" I asked. The Count had been very upset that his online dating was interrupted by my vacation. So much so, he asked me to give Carol the log-in information for his accounts.

"I checked for him a couple of times—nothing but prostitutes—and then he asked me to give Tabitha the passwords. He said she had some ideas for spicing up his profiles."

I winced. No telling what that meant.

"Okay," I said gathering my things. "Time to face my agitated vampire."

Just another day in the life of a temp.

I arrived at The Count's upscale hotel at five minutes to ten. Unfortunately, I wasn't the only one at the door.

Two ladies with pink hair a la Nicki Minaj, sporting evening dresses and spiked heels, were lounging against the doorway.

They looked me up and down. "What you supposed to be?" the bigger girl asked.

Not sure how to answer that, I said, "I'm supposed to be Mr. Pyres' assistant."

The woman snorted. "Well, that ain't original at all. He already got some bougie white girl actin' like his assistant."

"I got a question for you," said the other woman. "Does it hurt when he bites you?"

"Excuse me?" I stared at her dumbly.

"Ya know when he bites your neck. Does it hurt? 'Cause I tole Miss Thing in there if he thinks suckin' my blood is included in the reg'lar price, he's got another think comin'."

"Preach it sista'!" said the larger woman. "I ain't sure it's worth gettin' all bit up by a vampire. What my regular customers gonna say?"

"Let me guess," I said. "You met Mr. Pyres online, right?"

They nodded in unison.

I banged on the door. "Tabitha! Open up!"

"Hey," cried the bigger girl, "you can't just cut in front of us. We were here first."

I didn't want a brawl in the hallway, so I said, "Oh, if you want to let him feed on you first, then be my guest. Only he's a little cranky in the mornings…"

"Let's get outta here Charmane," the bigger girl said, grabbing her friend's arm. "This place is freakier than workin' The Block!" They fled down the hallway, high heels clacking loudly on the tile floor.

"Yes, it is," I muttered and banged on the door again.

A face appeared in the doorway. "Can I help you?" asked the pretty blonde with cornflower blue eyes and perfectly flat-ironed hair.

"It's me, Diana."

She continued to stare blankly at me. "Diana who?"

Maybe she'd been smoking this morning too. "Diana, Mr. Pyres' assistant."

"I'm Mr. Pyres' assistant. But my name isn't Diana. It's Tabitha."

Was this a joke? I looked behind me. No cameras in sight. "Tabitha, I'm Diana. Remember we talked on the phone last week? I helped you with the typing?"

I was a second away from snapping my fingers in font of her eyes to wake her up, when her face suddenly lit up. "Sure, sure. Yeah, it's been, like, days ago. I completely forgot." She laughed and opened the door for me.

"Why are there prostitutes standing outside the door?"

Tabitha looked out in the hallway. "I don't see anyone."

"I mean a few minutes ago," I ground out.

"Oh, those were Mr. Pyres' dates. See I had this great idea that he could like interview all the ladies that replied to him online. Then he could pick his favorite." She smiled.

"They were prostitutes," I repeated.

"Um, don't you think you're stereotyping just a bit?" she said leaning in. "They were just
urban.
Mr. Pyres likes all types of women. He doesn't discriminate like
some people
." She looked disapprovingly at me.

"I'm not discriminating!" I snapped. "They were prostitutes! Okay, they were
urban
prostitutes."

She looked unsure.

"Maybe you should tell me exactly what's going on. When did you set up these interviews?"

"On Friday, when Mr. Pyres was so upset that he didn't have a date for the weekend. So I went through his accounts and showed him all the responses. He was, like, so relieved." She smiled her sunny smile. "There were so many that he couldn't choose. It was taking a really long time, and I was supposed to meet my friends at Red Eye's for happy hour. They have the best mojitos. You know the place I'm—"

I interrupted her, "Yes, I know the place. So that's when you got the bright idea of interviewing the candidates?"

She nodded. "Some of the ladies were a little huffy about it. But I was like, 'Hey, he's a famous vampire what do you expect?' I think the whole vampire thing makes it hard for him to find the right woman. I told him I think it's terrible how badly his kind is discriminated against."

I rolled my eyes. "You do know he's not actually a vampire, right?"

She put her finger against her lips and made the "turning the lock and throwing away the key" motion. "His secret's safe with me. Can't let the world find out about something like this. It's hard being different from everyone else. I know because my grandmother on my mom's side was a witch."

"Really?" I raised my brow.

"Yep. My dad used to call her that all the time."

I stared at her. No one could be this dumb. "Where's Mr. Pyres?"

"On the balcony, finishing up his first interview."

I raced to the balcony and slid open the door. Mr. Pyres froze with his coffee cup in one hand and a danish in the other. The woman he was with appeared to be in her fifties, was well-dressed, and also sipping on a cup of coffee.

"Ms. Hudson! What is the meaning of this? You're gone for a week and then interrupt my lovely tête-à-tête with Ms. Peyton? Did you leave your brain in Puerto Rico?" His cape fluttered out behind him as he rose to his feet.

"I'm so sorry, my dear," he said to Ms. Peyton. "This is my assistant, Diana, and she's a bit flighty. You know you could learn a thing or two from Tabitha," he chastised.

That stopped me in my tracks. "You're kidding, right?"

"I most certainly am not. The first couple of days were rocky, but by the end of the week she had all the typing caught up. And she had this brilliant idea of interviewing all the lovely ladies who had contacted me. She's proven invaluable during your absence," he sniffed.

"I'm sorry to interrupt. I'll let you finish your chat," I said and backed off the balcony.

Tabitha was sitting on the couch with her feet propped up on the table. She clicked through channels on the television, finally settling on a rerun of a
Real Housewives
episode.

"I so could be on this show." She pointed to the television.

"Don't you have typing to do?" I asked.

"Like, duh," she said rolling her eyes. "Hassim won't have it ready until noon. He's not like a machine or something."

I put my hand on my head. "Who's Hassim?"

"Oh, he's the guy I hired from Fiver to do all the transcription. He's from India. I take pictures of the pages with my iPhone and text them to him in the morning. He emails them back, and I print them off."

Fiver? What the heck! "How can you afford to hire someone else to do your work?"

She sighed and looked up from the TV. "Well, it only costs me a dollar a page, because Hassim is from India, and they don't need as much money as we do here. So they work for less." She shrugged. "There's no way I could get all that typing done in a day. Besides, it's sooo boring. I might get him to write papers for me when I go back to school. He's really good."

An Indian freelancer. Impressive. She had to be some kind of idiot savant.

"So with all this extra time, you've been helping Mr. Pyres meet women?" I probed.

She nodded. "Yeah, I thought about having Hassim work on that too, but I was worried about the cultural differences between Indians and vampires. You know they don't eat cows so…" Her voice trailed off. I had no idea what she thought the connection was, and I had no intention of finding out.

The Count swished through the living room leading the lovely Ms. Peyton to the door. After saying his goodbyes, he turned to us.

"Ms. Hudson, I'd like a word alone," he said. "Tabitha perhaps you can go downstairs and check for new messages. I'd like to get a couple more interviews in today. I thought you made more for this morning?"

She made a face. "I sure did, but Diana ran them off. She called them prostitutes just 'cause they were a little
urban
."

"Stop saying urban like that!" I snapped. "It's not right."

"Well, it's better than calling people prostitutes!" Tabitha snapped back.

"They were prostitutes!"

Tabitha stood up. "See what I mean?" she said to Mr. Pyres and left the room.

"Really, Ms. Hudson, I'd expected more from you."

I tried a different tactic. "Where's Betty Getty?"

He flinched. "She's not taking my calls."

"And why's that?"

"We had a small miscommunication. She was not happy about our open relationship."

"But you said she was okay with it," I insisted.

"It appears that when I asked her about having an open relationship, she thought that to mean we would share our feelings. Be open with one another." He fiddled with his cape and looked uncomfortable.

"So when she found out about your continued dating…"

"She threw a glass of wine in my face and called me a scoundrel. Imagine that!" he cried. "I am no scoundrel!"

"So let me help you patch things up with her," I said.

"No. I've decided to play the field."

"Tabitha has scheduled you interviews with prostitutes," I reasoned.

"What about Ms. Peyton? She certainly didn't look like a prostitute."

I have to admit I was puzzled by Ms. Peyton. She looked like a respectable woman. Attractive and successful even. Why the heck would she agree to an interview with The Count?

"No, I agree, but most women aren't going to want to be interviewed for a date unless they're prostitutes." And I wasn't so sure prostitutes were that agreeable to it either.

He thought about this for a minute. "If I were to consider trying to make up with Betty, what would you suggest?"

"Flowers first with a note of apology."

"Done! Can you take care of that on your lunch hour?" he asked.

"Sure. Should I tell Tabitha to cancel your other interviews?" I asked hopefully.

"No, no. I want to see the rest of the ladies. I'd hate to disappoint them."

I groaned.

"Really, Diana, I think you should be more thankful to Tabitha. She is quite a find." He preened in front of the ornate mirror near the front door.

"About Tabitha," I began. "Do you really need both of us? I'm back now and…"

"But you are now a famous rock person, aren't you? I caught your act on the Sunday news show. Very impressive, but who will take care of me when you're off on a tour bus?" he asked.

He had a point. I also had a fifty-seven thousand dollar check in my purse. I didn't really need this job, but it went against my grain to give it up to Tabitha.

"I understand if you want today to be my last day, Mr. Pyres." I felt sad saying it, but I couldn't blame him.

"Now, now, let's not be hasty," he said. "Let's see how the day goes."

I shrugged. "Sounds good. Tabitha seems to have the typing under control, so I'd like to go through your online profiles and make sure they are up-to-date."

He nodded and headed off to discuss his upcoming interviews with Tabitha.

*  *  *

A lovely bouquet of roses and a heartfelt card were on their way to Betty Getty. My next stop was the costume rental store to pick up my gown for the Renaissance Fair. I made sure to reserve the same dress each year. It was made out of pale shades of blue tulle and satin with silver threading in the bodice. I felt like Sleeping Beauty when I wore it.

My phone rang just as I left the shop.

"
Hola
, Queenie Baby," sang Carlos. "I've missed yer pretty face."

I smiled. "
Hola
, Carlos."

"Guess where I am, m'lady," he said.

"I haven't a clue."

"On my boat!" he cried.

"Your what?"

"My boat! They rented a big yacht instead of getting a house. We're docked in Annapolis."

"Impressive! Can't wait to see it. When's practice?"

"Every night at seven. The band's staying on here with me. You had any luck booking us locally?"

I hit my hand to my forehead. I can't believe I hadn't made those phone calls yet. "Not yet, but put Red Eye's open mike on your calendar for Thursday. I'll try to get some other bar owners to come out and see us there. Hopefully you'll have your pick of bookings after that."

"Aye, aye!" he cried before we hung up.

My phone rang again. This time it was The Count.

"Hello, Mr. Pyres. Everything okay there?" I asked, wondering what could have gone wrong in the twenty minutes I'd been gone.

"No, no, everything's fine," he said. "I was getting ready to go to lunch, and I had a thought about Betty."

"Okay."

"I'd really like to patch things up with her. Show her I'm a good guy, so to speak. You know how much she was looking forward to the Renaissance Fair?" He paused. I had a bad feeling about this. "Well, I thought perhaps she'd like to go with me, and you and I could do a little number together. What do you say?" he asked.