After I escort him out of the office, I watch as he slinks along the wall of the hallway. His eyes are wide as he scans the area. I don’t know what he’s scanning for since there’s no one around. The elevator door opens and Hailey steps out. When Mr. Havers sees her, he starts screaming before running off down the hall with his hands waving in the air.
“Don’t take my sperm!” is the last thing I hear before the stairwell door shuts behind him.
Hailey shakes her head. “I take it we don’t have a new client?”
“Um, no, unless you know how to retrieve sperm from aliens.”
“Nope. I never did learn how to locate aliens. I could ask Wally, but I think that dude,” she points her thumb in the direction of the stairs, “would shit his pants if he saw Wally.”
“Probably.” I agree because Wally still scares me on a good day. But if aliens do exist, he would be the one person to know about it.
We walk into the office to find Suzie bent over laughing. “And I thought the highlight of my day was going to be Lola humping you,” she manages to say between bouts of laughter. “But then you have a man in here claiming to have sex with aliens. Awesome.”
At her name, Lola’s head pops up. Her tongue lolls out of her mouth and she stands. Oh no. I take a step back. “When is she having her little surgery?” I ask with my hands held out to hold her off. Not as if I can stop her. Lola has a mind of her own when she’s feeling horny.
“The vet said we had to wait until she’s six months old.”
“Lola is six months old.” She’s actually older.
Hailey frowns. “I feel bad for her.”
Lola wanders over to me and starts sniffing my leg. She stands up on her rear legs, but before she can commence humping my leg, Hailey grabs her collar and pulls her away. Needless to say, she’s become an ace at cockblocking Lola. Is it still cockblocking when no cocks are involved?
Oh boy, a few months of working with Hailey and Suzie and the word cock is roaming around in my head. What words will I be able to think in a year? I can’t wait to find out.
Chapter 7
If you’re going to get jiggy with it, make sure the curtains are closed. ~ Phoebe’s rules for becoming a better person
The next day I’m trailing a cheating spouse. I mean alleged cheating spouse. I don’t have the proof Mr. Kindle is a cheater – yet.
Hailey usually doesn’t want me working on cheater cases as I’m too ‘conspicuous’. Conspicuous? How am I conspicuous? I’m sitting in an SUV with darkened windows outside of a craptastic motel. Oh wait, that does sound a bit conspicuous.
It’s not my fault Mr. Kindle likes to get his groove on with his secretary at lunch once a week at this motel. I don’t get it. Why be in a committed relationship if you’re going to cheat? And if you are going to cheat, why come to a place where the bedsheets most likely haven’t been washed since the last visitor? Bed bugs are real, you know.
I’m not kidding about this place being crappy. It doesn’t even have a name. There’s simply a sign with ‘Motel’ on it. Of the five letters in motel, two still light up. The ‘M’ and the ‘e’ spelling Me. How appropriate. After all, Mr. Kindle isn’t thinking about anyone but himself.
I watch as a gray Cadillac pulls into the lot. What a jerk. He can afford a Cadillac, but he’s not willing to splurge a little on a hotel room. Dirtbag.
I raise my camera and watch through the viewer as Mr. Kindle exits the car. He doesn’t bother going around the car to open the door for his passenger. When the passenger steps out, I can’t help my eye roll. Of course, his secretary is a blonde wearing a skintight dress nearly giving me a peek of her rear end. Typical. Isn’t she freezing her butt off?
I snap away as the two walk to a room. Mr. Kindle produces a key from his pocket and unlocks the door. Huh. Did he already have the key? Does he keep a permanent room in this place? My nose wrinkles of its own accord. I don’t want to know.
I watch as he walks in, leaving his secretary to follow. They close the door and I wait a minute before getting out of the SUV. I know I need to take pictures of them in an indelicate position, but I’m struggling with the idea of watching strangers have sex. I’ve never watched porn before and now I’m going to see the action live and in person.
Maybe Hailey and Suzie are right. Maybe I’m not meant to do the cheater cases. No. I refuse to believe it. This is my job. I’m not watching them have sex for fun. I’m not a voyeur. I’m a professional.
I straighten my back and march right on over to their room. The curtains are slightly open as if they couldn’t be bothered to take the time to close them properly before attacking each other.
I peek inside to see both parties are naked and on the bed. Guess someone doesn’t believe in foreplay. I feel for his secretary. I know what it’s like to be with a man who doesn’t bother to get you warmed up for the main act. It sucks. Not literally. There is no sucking involved, which is the entire problem.
I bring the camera up and snap a whole bunch of pictures. There. Done. I switch off the camera and walk back to my vehicle feeling pleased with myself. I didn’t gag once. Of course, I didn’t see any naked body parts besides a hairy, flabby ass. Someone needs to find a good esthetician. And maybe a personal trainer.
I walk around the front of the SUV to the driver’s seat and stop dead. Shit. Damn. What is he doing here?
“Can I help you?” I pretend I don’t know who he is.
“You can give me your camera,” Mr. Brown demands.
I wrinkle my brow, still acting like I don’t know who he is. “No.” I pull the camera close to my chest. “I don’t know who you are—”
He cuts me off. “Enough of the bullshit. You know exactly who I am.”
I drop the act and make a demand of my own. “How did you figure out who I am?” It’s not like I’m wearing a jacket advertising the firm We Cheat, You Eat.
He snickers. “Like it was hard.”
I motion with my hand for him to continue.
“Melanie clocked your car a week ago. Got a contact who ran the plates.”
Darn. It was easy to find me. Maybe we should invest in some fake license plates when we’re staking out a place. Or maybe I’m not as good at being inconspicuous as I thought. I shake those thoughts right out of my head. This is not the time to worry about my job performance.
“Now. If explanation hour is done, I’ll take the camera.”
He holds out his hand. As if I’m going to simply hand the camera to him.
“Why do you need the camera?” I act like I’m a dumb blonde. It’s not my first time pretending to be an idiot. It probably won’t be my last. I thought I’d left the dumb blonde act in my past, but if it helps me out here, you won’t hear me complaining.
“Don’t act stupid. I need the pictures you took. Dead men can’t be photographed.”
What do I do now? Do I admit the pictures have already been printed and a report sent to the insurance company? His wife’s claim for life insurance is going to be denied no matter whether he has my camera or not.
I shake my head. “I’m sorry. I can’t help you.”