QUEENIE BABY: On Assignment (16 page)

Great, I thought, here I am with yet another drama playing out on my front lawn. Mrs. Kester’s light was off, but I was sure she was crouched by her window listening. I was tired and confused. “I had a great time for the most part tonight. Let’s just call it a night and we’ll talk later.”
 

He nodded, but looked reluctant to leave. “Thanks again,” I said leaning up and kissing him on the cheek.

“Were you ever in love with me?” he asked.

His question threw me. I certainly had thought I was in love with him at the time. “I’m not sure,” I said quietly. He nodded and walked back to his truck.

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTEEN

IT WAS A rainy, gray morning and it suited my mood just fine. I had tossed and turned most of the night thinking about the ugly scene with Rick. I had three text messages from him already this morning. All apologizing for last night. I didn't know how to feel. I needed to get through today and get my mind into playing at McGlynn's tonight. I just didn't have time for this right now. I'm not even sure I wanted to be in a relationship and here I was ping-ponging between two men. Worst of all, I hadn't heard a word from Mark.
 

It was only a few minutes before eight, but there were no open spaces in front of Greene's, so I parked across the street near Shack's. I didn't bother with coffee. I was making myself suffer I guess; wallowing in self-pity by denying myself coffee. The lights were on in Greene's and the door was unlocked. Carol was busy behind the counter organizing paychecks and grumbling about the general disarray of the office.
 

She looked up as I came in and said, "I am never taking off again. This place is a wreck! Help me alphabetize these checks before we're overrun with temps."

"What are you doing here?" I scolded. "You're supposed to be resting your back."

"Do you know there was no one here yesterday afternoon? I had five calls on my cell from customers," she said.

Well, that wasn't surprising considering David got his ass kicked by a transvestite. I didn't blame him for not coming back. "How are you feeling?" I asked.

"Better. I just want to get this place in order and get through pay day," she said handing me a stack of checks to alphabetize.
 

We scurried around getting prepared for the rush that would begin at eight-fifteen. Before Carol had enacted the Paycheck Pickup Policy a line of eager temps, their significant others, children, and, on several occasions, pets would be waiting at the front door upon her arrival. I looked out the window as a big, yellow school bus double-parked in front of the office. Traffic screeched to a halt as the stop sign swung out and the red lights flashed. The door opened and a motley group of temps scrambled out.

"Looks like Kenny is right on time today," she commented.

Kenny Jackson was an enterprising young man who worked for Greene's at Harris Manufacturing on the second shift and drove a school bus during the day. After dropping the kids off at school, he stopped at Harris', picked up the night shift temps, and brought them to Greene's to pick up their checks. He made five bucks a person and the temps were able to pick up their checks earlier than if they had used public transportation. Pretty ingenious. Still, it was a little weird seeing all the temps rolling up to the office in a school bus.
 

"Hi, Kenny," Carol said handing him a check. "How's the school bus driver business?"

"Can't complain," he said ripping open the envelope and taking a look at his check. "Hey, Miss Carol, have you had any new jobs come in? I'm really lookin' to get off the line and do something else. Man, it just puts me to sleep looking at toothbrushes all night."

Carol nodded sympathetically. "That doesn't sound like fun. But you are probably going to get hired full-time at Harris as soon as they open up some positions. Then you would make more and have benefits," she reminded him.

"Yeah, that's what my mom says, too. But workin' the line is nowhere near as exciting as driving a school bus. I wish I could drive a bus full-time, but it's hard to get into the MTA. I can't even figure out how to complete the online application!" He shook his head. "I'm not that good with computers. We never had one at home. But I know I could pass the driving test."
 

He looked so earnest that Carol asked, "Can you come by here this afternoon before you have to pick the kids up from school?"
 

"Sure," he said. "But what for?"

"I'll help you do the online application and I'll make a call to a friend at MTA," she said.

"Wow," Kenny said all smiles. "Thanks! I'll be here."

We continued to pass out checks for another thirty minutes until there was a lull. "You're my hero, Carol," I said. "You have the patience of Job and you go out of your way for people."

"Save the applause," Carol teased. "Happy temps make happy customers. Bored temps get into trouble. Kenny's one of the most reliable people I have working the line at Harris, but he's not going to last much longer staring at toothbrushes. Besides," she added, "the whole online application process makes me crazy. It puts up one more barrier for people who already have the deck stacked against them.”

I've heard Carol get upset about the topic of online applications before. She had spent the last twenty years in recruiting and staffing. According to her, ten years ago someone like Kenny would have been a shoe in for a blue collar job like driving a bus. He could pass the background check, drug screen, the driving test, and had good references. He was a good kid who worked hard and stayed out of trouble. These days between all the competition for fewer jobs and the laborious online application process, people like Kenny didn't even bother trying to move up in the world. They got stuck looking at toothbrushes for the rest of their lives.
 

I glanced at the clock. It was almost nine. "If you're okay without me I'd like to get an early start with The Count today," I said.

"The Count?" Carol asked. "Oh, Vann. Don't let him hear you call him that. He’s pretty touchy about the whole vampire thing," she warned.
 

I rolled my eyes. "Then he shouldn't wear a cape."
 

"It's a cloak," said Carol with a straight face.

"You still so owe me for this assignment," I said as I grabbed my coat and purse.

*****

I knocked on The Count’s door at ten after nine. And waited. I knocked again. This was weird. Finally I heard some rustling behind the door.

"Ms. Hudson," said a disheveled Mr. Pyres in a red bathrobe. "What are you doing here at this infernal hour?"

"Um, it's after nine," I said trying to peek around him. "I decided to start a little early to get caught up. Everything okay?"

"I wish you had telephoned first," he said. "I am currently indisposed," he drawled.
 

I wrinkled my forehead. "Indisposed?" I repeated. What was this nut talking about?
 

He jerked his head indicating something in the room behind him. I heard a woman's voice behind him call, "Vanny what’s taking so long? The water is getting cold."

Oops! "I am so sorry," I said trying to stifle a giggle. He held up a finger for me to wait and then let the door slam in my face. A minute later he opened the door and stuffed a wad of papers in my hand.
 

"This should get you started. I'll be down to check on you later," he said.
 

I couldn't resist. "So I guess this means your date went well?"

He slammed the door in my face again. Really? The Count was getting more action that I was? Well, I consoled myself, it wasn't as if I hadn't had multiple offers this week. I walked down to the office and settled into a workstation. My mind wandered to images of hot, sexy men as the flowery description of fourteenth century eating utensils threatened to put me to sleep. This job had to rival toothbrush inspecting on the boredom scale, I thought, shaking my head to stay awake.

The Count stopped by at one on his way to lunch with Betty, cape and all. I was actually hoping for a lunch invitation. The prospect of seeing them together would more than compensate for the vegan food. I showed him what I had accomplished so far and told him I would work more over the weekend to get caught up.

"I want to have the manuscript to my publisher next week. The Renaissance Festival is coming up and I want to be free from work," he said.
 

Me too. I had a standing gig at the festival. It paid great and it was fun to dress up as a beautiful maiden for a few days. "I guess there's no need to continue working on the Special Project," I said. Which stunk, because I had been looking forward to the money.

"Oh, on the contrary," said The Count. "It was most successful. We must continue."

"But you already met someone and seem to be hitting it off pretty well," I said looking up at him.

"I think I need to play the field a little," he said with a mischievous smile. "I am having quite a good time with Betty. But I want to keep my options open."

I rolled my eyes. I wonder how Betty would feel about this. "Okayy," I said slowly. "I'll work on that when I get back from lunch."

Other than the obvious prostitutes looking for a hook up, there weren't any new prospects. I tweaked a few things on his profile and did a quick search of potential candidates. On a hunch I looked for women interested in the upcoming Renaissance festival. There were three that looked promising. I jotted off a quick message from The Count about the festival and called it a day.

My phone rang just as I was packing up.

"Hey, have you heard from Mark yet?" asked Carol.

"No. Why?"

"I've had ten more customers that made cash payments to someone identifying himself as the owner of Greene's. I also see that David ran reports of active customers' billing info. I'm worried that he is on the hunt for more cash payments. I tried calling Mark, but it just goes straight to voice mail. I think I should call the police," she said.

"You need to wait for Mark. I don't think the Greene family wants the police involved." I was getting more than a little worried about Mark. What if there had been some kind of altercation in Virginia? David was unstable and who knew about Marcie's boyfriend? Carol agreed to give Mark until tomorrow. She asked how the Vann Pyres assignment was going. I told her about his big sleepover with Betty.

"I guess there's hope for me yet," she said with a laugh.
 

"I'm getting pretty good at this online dating thing," I joked. "Say the word and I'll hook you up with a profile."

"No thanks," she said. "I prefer to meet my men the old-fashioned way."

"Singing drunk karaoke in a bar?" I jabbed.

"I left myself wide open for that one," she said.
 

"Don't forget—I'm playing at McGlynn's tonight," I reminded her.

“I’d love to see you play," she said. "But there’s no way I'm showing my face in that place again anytime soon."

I could see her point.
 

I left work and went straight home to put fresh strings on my guitar and load the gear in my car. I didn't have a lot to bring because, unlike some places I played, McGlynn's had a decent sound system to plug into. I hated lugging speakers, but since I hadn't made it to rock star status yet, I couldn’t afford roadies. My phone rang as I was taking Max for a walk.
 

"Diana?"
 

My stomach flipped and I flushed from my head to my toes. "Is everything okay, Mark?"

"Yes," he said. "Long story. Marcie's not having an affair, but there are major problems with David. I also heard from Ed’s accountant. He said that he sent Ed an email over a month ago about the receivable problem. He admits to dropping the ball after that. Doesn’t look like there’s any funny business on his end.”

"At least there's some good news. Carol's been trying to catch up with you," I said and told him about the customers.

"I'm not surprised. Tell Carol to hold tight. I'll catch you both up on everything tomorrow. I still have a few things to take care of here. I'm not sure if I can make it to see you at McGlynn's tonight." He sounded disappointed.

"Not a problem," I said, although I was more than a little disappointed.

"I'm looking forward to our date, Diana. I can't wait to see you," he said.

My stomach flipped again. "I can't wait to smell you either," I said.

He laughed. "That's a little creepy."

"I meant see," I stuttered. I slapped my forehead after we hung up. Sometimes I still felt like a sixteen year-old klutz.
 

After calling Carol with an update, I made myself a sandwich and fed Max. He looked annoyed that none of the ham from my sandwich made it into his bowl. I consoled him with a belly rub. I rummaged through my case and pulled out my standard set list for McGlynn's. Over the years I had become skilled at knowing exactly which songs worked at which bars. I played a few chords and ran through a couple of lines from each song to refresh my memory. Nothing worse that forgetting a song on stage.
 

Seven o'clock. Time to get dressed and go. Now this might come as a surprise, but my performance persona was much more glamorous than the regular me. Bars and restaurants weren't used to having solo female performers and were more than reluctant to hire me when I showed up looking for work in jeans and a t-shirt. This area was more used to older guys in Hawaiian shirts and flip flops singing Jimmy Buffet songs. I found that one of the keys to garnering more gigs was to bring some glam. So out came the high heeled boots, snug black pants, and a shimmering, clingy gold shirt. Big earrings, big hair, and smoky eyes finished my look. It was fun dressing up like a star even if I wasn't one yet.
 

My phone rang. I checked the number. Oh, great. My mom.
 

"You're back," I said answering the phone.

"And not a moment too soon," she said dramatically. "Uncle Grover in the hospital, Granddaddy hitch-hiking, you having sex in the back of your sister's van! We leave for a week—one week! And you all do is get into trouble."