cramp your style, either. I’m, um, aware of, um…Well, I’m just…glad you came home to Sarasota even though your mom and Bruce aren’t here anymore and…My year wasn’t half as rough as yours, but…I’m glad you’re here.”
Annie couldn’t keep tears from flooding her eyes. “I’m glad I’m here, too,” she said, forcing them back. “I just wish…Well, you know what I wish.”
Ric nodded. “You’ve communicated that effectively over the past week.”
She actually managed a smile. Stood up. “I’ll let you get to it. Finding Brenda Quinn.” She pulled the door shut behind her, but then stopped. Looked back at him. “How long will it take? You said…fifteen minutes?”
“Give or take a few.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“It will. Believe me. This is not going to be a difficult one.”
Annie nodded. “But if it does turn out to be difficult…Will you let me ride along when you go out to look for her?”
Ric sat there, behind his desk, his face expressionless. “If I let you ride along,” he finally said, “will you promise never to discuss blow jobs with me again?”
Annie laughed. “I promise.” She shut his door behind her.
It was just shy of two hours after that, after finding nothing on Brenda Quinn except cold information—the most recent dated eighteen months ago—that Ric had actually let Annie drive. He didn’t want to get dog hair in his car. Not that Pierre shedded. His poodle genes were dominant.
The more traditional, feet-on-the-street, Q&A method of sleuthing had finally brought them to Screech’s, where Brenda had worked as an exotic dancer as recently as one month ago.
And so it was thus, with the help of Saint Lillian of the Over-Endowed sparking that remarkable conversation in which Ric had confessed he was glad she was here, Annie was in Screech’s right now, showing him that she was capable of being more than a mere office assistant.
True, she hadn’t worked as a police officer, or even a security guard. Her total law enforcement background was limited to the shelves of books she’d recently read, and to a handful of courses she’d taken in college. But she’d always been a detail person, noticing things, remembering what she’d seen or heard or read. She was smart and a quick learner.
She wanted—badly—to work not for this man, but
with
him. Although, truth be told, as the clock ticked closer to the end of her two weeks of notice, Annie found herself coming up with excuses to stay—even if he didn’t immediately see the light.
Because as much as she bitched about sitting behind a desk, she actually liked spending time in Ric’s little office, provided Ric was there, too. She particularly liked the way he smelled, but okay, he was
Ric
, for the love of God. She was the kid sister he’d never had. Plus, he had a girlfriend.
Some blonde who lived in Ohio, and came into town twice a year on vacation.
Funny, though, how her name hadn’t come up during their blow-job conversation. As in,
Gee, Annie, I would never cheat on my perfect blond girlfriend from Ohio by messing around with a client.
“Can I help you?” The woman who was approaching Annie from the back of Screech’s was clearly management. A few major clues were that she was in her sixties, and unlike most of the other women in the room, she had all of her clothes on.
What kind of woman would choose to manage a strip club over, say, a Bath & Body Works? Aside from a heavy smoker with perfume allergies?
Maybe a woman who’d started as a dancer herself to feed her kids when her husband bailed—maybe she would go on to manage this type of place. Or a woman who believed fiercely in the importance of her own independence…
Or maybe she was just a woman who didn’t care what happened, as long as she got her share of the pie.
While Annie wouldn’t have chosen to come here for dinner, the food that went past her on heavily laden trays looked and smelled good. And the tables and
Annie couldn’t keep tears from flooding her eyes. “I’m glad I’m here, too,” she said, forcing them back. “I just wish…Well, you know what I wish.”
Ric nodded. “You’ve communicated that effectively over the past week.”
She actually managed a smile. Stood up. “I’ll let you get to it. Finding Brenda Quinn.” She pulled the door shut behind her, but then stopped. Looked back at him. “How long will it take? You said…fifteen minutes?”
“Give or take a few.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“It will. Believe me. This is not going to be a difficult one.”
Annie nodded. “But if it does turn out to be difficult…Will you let me ride along when you go out to look for her?”
Ric sat there, behind his desk, his face expressionless. “If I let you ride along,” he finally said, “will you promise never to discuss blow jobs with me again?”
Annie laughed. “I promise.” She shut his door behind her.
It was just shy of two hours after that, after finding nothing on Brenda Quinn except cold information—the most recent dated eighteen months ago—that Ric had actually let Annie drive. He didn’t want to get dog hair in his car. Not that Pierre shedded. His poodle genes were dominant.
The more traditional, feet-on-the-street, Q&A method of sleuthing had finally brought them to Screech’s, where Brenda had worked as an exotic dancer as recently as one month ago.
And so it was thus, with the help of Saint Lillian of the Over-Endowed sparking that remarkable conversation in which Ric had confessed he was glad she was here, Annie was in Screech’s right now, showing him that she was capable of being more than a mere office assistant.
True, she hadn’t worked as a police officer, or even a security guard. Her total law enforcement background was limited to the shelves of books she’d recently read, and to a handful of courses she’d taken in college. But she’d always been a detail person, noticing things, remembering what she’d seen or heard or read. She was smart and a quick learner.
She wanted—badly—to work not for this man, but
with
him. Although, truth be told, as the clock ticked closer to the end of her two weeks of notice, Annie found herself coming up with excuses to stay—even if he didn’t immediately see the light.
Because as much as she bitched about sitting behind a desk, she actually liked spending time in Ric’s little office, provided Ric was there, too. She particularly liked the way he smelled, but okay, he was
Ric
, for the love of God. She was the kid sister he’d never had. Plus, he had a girlfriend.
Some blonde who lived in Ohio, and came into town twice a year on vacation.
Funny, though, how her name hadn’t come up during their blow-job conversation. As in,
Gee, Annie, I would never cheat on my perfect blond girlfriend from Ohio by messing around with a client.
“Can I help you?” The woman who was approaching Annie from the back of Screech’s was clearly management. A few major clues were that she was in her sixties, and unlike most of the other women in the room, she had all of her clothes on.
What kind of woman would choose to manage a strip club over, say, a Bath & Body Works? Aside from a heavy smoker with perfume allergies?
Maybe a woman who’d started as a dancer herself to feed her kids when her husband bailed—maybe she would go on to manage this type of place. Or a woman who believed fiercely in the importance of her own independence…
Or maybe she was just a woman who didn’t care what happened, as long as she got her share of the pie.
While Annie wouldn’t have chosen to come here for dinner, the food that went past her on heavily laden trays looked and smelled good. And the tables and
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