Sex Says(66)
I dialed a fairly random San Francisco number and waited.
I knew the area code, and I knew other numbers and their trademarks by district—and I’d done this a time or two—or seventy—before.
“Primly and Price,” the efficient woman answered swiftly on the other end.
“Oh yeah, hi, this is Mike Spence. I’m trying to reach the head of Human Resources.”
“May I ask why you’re calling?”
“I’m supposed to start work today, but I’ve got a little situation.”
“What are you doing?” Lola mouthed. “Who the hell is Mike Spence?”
I waved her off so I could concentrate and hit the button to put the phone on speaker.
“Hold please while I transfer you.”
“Thanks,” I waxed. “I really appreciate it.”
“What are you doing?” Lola angry-mouthed again.
“Just listen,” I mouthed back.
“Hello? Mike?”
“Yes, this is he. Who am I speaking with?”
“This is Lucinda Thomas, head of HR here at Primly and Price.”
I smiled. Oh man, this was going to be a good one. “Hi, Lucinda. How are you today?”
Lola shook her head and held up both hands. I smiled even deeper and waved her off.
“Well, I was doing fine, Mike. Reception said you’re supposed to start work today but can’t make it?”
“That’s right,” I confirmed.
“May I ask what’s come up?”
“Well, I got tickets to a concert, and I really can’t miss it. It’s my favorite musician. I’ve been waiting my entire life to see him.”
Lola held her head in distress, clearly confused beyond the point of comfort.
“Mike.”
“Yes, Lucinda?” I asked sweetly, innocently—dumbly.
“That is an absolutely terrible excuse. Think about the impression you’re going to be leaving on the company. It reeks of immaturity, and you’re leaving a lot of people in a bind. And I’m afraid if you don’t show up for your first day, I won’t be able to have confidence in your attendance from here out.”
“Geez. That doesn’t sound good, Luce.”
“That’s because it isn’t, Mike. It isn’t.” Lucinda sounded like she heard too much of this shit. She needed to clean up her employee roster if that was the case.
“Well…”
“Mike, I’m going to have to let you go if you don’t show up today. I can’t make it any clearer than that, and I hope you understand and do the responsible thing.”
“I don’t know…” I pretended to hem.
“Listen, Mike. I’m a busy person, and this is a busy business. Let’s just decide to part ways now and save both of us some time.”
“If that’s what you really think is best…”
“I do.”
“All right, Lucinda. I hope you have a good—”
The line went dead before I even finished my sentence.
“What the hell was that?” Lola yelled immediately, practically shaking the walls of the apartment and doing a little jump and a twist. I laughed.
“Just a little thing I like to do.”
“You just got Mike fired!” she accused, shoving me in the shoulder—pretty hard for someone her size too.
I laughed again. “There is no Mike.”
She stopped mid-rally. “What?”
“I made him up,” I explained, laying her phone down on the kitchen island and giving it a spin. “Dialed a random number. Lucinda never even checked her personnel file to see if there was a Mike scheduled to start today. Hell, it’s Sunday. She’s probably watching her kids systematically tear apart her house piece by piece, subconsciously knowing that it’s not likely someone is supposed to start on a Sunday of all days, but I talked and she listened as though I spoke the truth. That’s not my fault. I was just having a little fun. And no harm to the company since there never was supposed to be anyone starting.”
“Oh, my God. You’re such a troublemaker.”
I shrugged.
Her teeth carved at her bottom lip ruthlessly as she wrung her hands, and then finally, released the words clawing to get out of her throat. “I don’t really understand it, but I kind of want to be one too.”
Both ends up my lips curled up, and I picked up the phone and held it out. I’d never realized how much of a lonely man’s game this had been before.
But the feeling Lola’s enjoyment gave me—ten times as strong as what I got on my own—sure as hell woke me up.
“Show me how it’s done, Lo. Show me how it’s done.”
With one final swerve and beep of the horn, the cab came to a stop outside of Marlowe’s, and I internally cursed when my eyes met the glow of 8:02 p.m. on the dashboard.