“Olivia, if I had an appointment I would have said that I had one. I do; however, need to see Gideon now.” She is shocked by my use of his first name and begins to flip through a pile of papers, a sour look still marring her overly made up face. While she searches for whatever it is that she is looking for I take a look around the room. I have absolutely no idea what it is that Lambert Enterprises actually does but it must involve middle aged people in suits looking very busy and walking through the lobby as many times as possible in a short time span. After a while they all start to look the same, nameless, faceless suits. I bet it’s finance, they all look like the finance type.
“I’m sorry, Miss…” She waits for my name but when I don’t give it she continues “but Mr. Lambert isn’t taking meetings today.” I sigh loudly to make sure she gets the point.
“Olivia, I really need to see Gideon, would you please just call up and tell him that I’m here, my name is…” She flashes her eyes up to meet mine and in a short sharp tone refuses my request.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Miss. He’s very busy.” The woman is the most exasperating person that I have ever met. She could most certainly keep the dogs at bay but good God was she aggravating when you were one of the dogs. Throwing my hands up at her I head for the revolving door. If he won’t see me then I’ll sit in the bar across the street and wait for him to come out, he has to go home sometime. This man will hear exactly why I don’t need his pity, his charity charity positions.
The Winston Arms is an oddly rundown pub for sitting on the city block across from Lambert Enterprises. It’s not sleazy, but it’s no high class establishment either. The solid oak bar wraps around a square in the center of the room, providing a two sided bar that serves two separate rooms with a doorway on each side of the bar to pass between the two. The floor is sticky and worn and while it isn’t crowded it definitely looks like the type of place that has “regulars.” A few of those “regulars” sit at the bar with plates of greasy bar food and pint glasses of beer. They huddle together talking of mergers and ‘what a bitch that Marilyn in accounting is’ and I try my best to avoid their gaze as I walk in. After that little encounter with Olivia I sure as hell don’t feel like being ogled or drawn in to a random conversation by bored businessmen looking for entertainment.
“What can I get ya?” The bartender swings around from the back side of the bar looking directly at me. He has a mop of blond hair that reminds me of the first night that I met Gideon and how that flop of brown hair kept falling over his eyes.
“Umm…I’m driving so I guess I’ll just take an orange juice? Urgh I wish I wasn’t driving, I could so use a few shots of tequila about now!” The bartender cracks a smile and winks at me.
“Rough day?” He is already pouring my orange juice in an elegant tapered glass.
“You could say that.” He places the glass on the bar along with a small napkin.
“It can only get better right?” He seems like a nice enough guy but to be honest I’m still so pissed off at Gideon that I don’t want to hear it. I sigh and wrap my fingers around the glass which is already starting to condensate.
“Yeah, I guess. How much do I owe you?”
“$3.25 and a smile…please?” This guy isn’t going to quit so I flash a quick smile and fish in my purse for my wallet…and keep fishing. As I flail around desperately I realize that not only did I take my wallet out of my purse last night, but I also took my cards out of my wallet to slip them in to my gym pants, so that I wouldn’t look like I was carrying a concealed weapon while slaving away on the treadmill. Fuck, I can already feel the blush rising in my cheeks. There are few things more embarrassing that going to pay for something and not having the means to do so.
“Shit, look, I’m really sorry but I can’t find my wallet, I think I left it at home.” The bartender flashes a smile again and just as he’s about to say something, which I’m sure was ‘don’t worry, this one’s on me,” a big hand grasps my shoulder. I want to turn around and see just who that hand belongs to but on the other hand I’m absolutely terrified it will turn out to be one of the faceless middle aged men from Gideon’s building trying his luck or one of the guys who was just bitching about Marilyn in accounting.
“Don’t worry Dave, I’ve got this one.” As soon as he speaks I know it’s him, I’d know that velvety voice anywhere. Gideon’s fingers squeeze harder on my shoulder and he leans down, his mouth brushing against my ear. “I hear you’ve been giving Olivia some trouble…”