wedge sandals. Classy as hell, but late. Grabbing a glass of milk and a granola bar, I jumped into my Saturn and lurched onto Foothill Boulevard. Five minutes later I had cut two people off on the 210 and was trading hand signals with the locals. At 8:57 I screeched into the parking lot, ready to throw open the L.A. Counseling doors before my first clients could arrive and be instantly offended by Mandy's magnificence. But, to my fantabulous surprise, Shirley was already manning the desk.
“My niece asked me to fill in one more day,” she explained.
I refrained from dancing. “Still not feeling well?”
“Terrible bug, I guess. Say…” She reached under her desk and brought out a white cardboard box. “I stopped at the Donut Hole on the way here and got a couple a caramel rolls. Ate one 'fore I got here, but Lord knows if I pack another ounce of fat into my arteries, they're going to have to come up for air. You take the last one.”
I took the box, protesting weakly. I love caramel more than sin. “I don't think—”
“Oh…” She waved dismissively. “Don't you go telling me you can't eat it. Scrawny little thing like you don't have the strength to lie. Here.” She picked up a card that was propped with its kindred in front of her. “Your first client. Daryl Ellingson.” She put it on top of the box. “He should be pulling in any minute now. Your three o'clock canceled on account of she has to work, and a woman name of Celeste Friedman called in a panic. Wanted to get her daughter right in. An emergency she says. I told her you didn't have no time 'til this afternoon, but that conflicted with her Pilates class.”
I refrained, quite professionally, from rolling my eyes. “So I shouldn't be expecting her?”
Shirley gave me a “what's that?” glance, accompanied by a sassy tilt of the head. “Course you should. After I borrowed a little of that guilt that's been rolling around in here, she decided to take your free three o'clock.”
“Guilt?”
“I just asked if little Amy was her only daughter or if she had a spare—just in case things don't work out.”
I stared in silent admiration.
“You get goin' now. You better start in on that roll or Mr. Daryl'll show up and you'll have caramel on your teeth,” she said, and shooed me down the hall.
But she opened my office door before I'd had a chance to slip into a glucose high. “I forgot to tell you that a Senator Rivera called.”
“Oh?” I glanced up, immediately nervous.
“He's got a mighty sexy voice for a Republican.” She scrunched up her face a little when she said it. I was going to have to guess she voted for the other side.
“What did he want?”
“Asked that you call him soon as you get a chance.” She glided into my office like an angel and set a note beside the roll. “Home phone, cell phone, pager,” she said, and left.
Unfortunately, I didn't have time to be floored by her efficiency. Back-to-back clients kept me on my toes until nearly noon, at which time curiosity took me by the throat. I set my records aside and called the first number on the list.
“Caring Hands,” said a chipper voice.
I glanced at the phone. “Um … I'm sorry. I was given this number for Senator Rivera.”
“The senator? Hang on a minute.” She covered the receiver, but I could hear her clear as vodka. “Hey, Emmy, is the senator still here?”
The answer was out of my range, but in a minute Chipper was back on the line. “I'm sorry. We can't seem to find him right now. I thought he was serving lunch, but maybe he's helping on the floor.”
I blinked. “We're talking about Senator Rivera, right?”
“Yeah. If you want to leave a number I can try to get him a message, but my shift's done here in fifteen.”
“Senator
Miguel
Rivera?” Somehow I couldn't quite see him dishing up reconstituted mashed potatoes in his Armani suit.
“Yes, ma'am. If you want to come see him yourself, he'll be here until five or so.”
I hung up
“My niece asked me to fill in one more day,” she explained.
I refrained from dancing. “Still not feeling well?”
“Terrible bug, I guess. Say…” She reached under her desk and brought out a white cardboard box. “I stopped at the Donut Hole on the way here and got a couple a caramel rolls. Ate one 'fore I got here, but Lord knows if I pack another ounce of fat into my arteries, they're going to have to come up for air. You take the last one.”
I took the box, protesting weakly. I love caramel more than sin. “I don't think—”
“Oh…” She waved dismissively. “Don't you go telling me you can't eat it. Scrawny little thing like you don't have the strength to lie. Here.” She picked up a card that was propped with its kindred in front of her. “Your first client. Daryl Ellingson.” She put it on top of the box. “He should be pulling in any minute now. Your three o'clock canceled on account of she has to work, and a woman name of Celeste Friedman called in a panic. Wanted to get her daughter right in. An emergency she says. I told her you didn't have no time 'til this afternoon, but that conflicted with her Pilates class.”
I refrained, quite professionally, from rolling my eyes. “So I shouldn't be expecting her?”
Shirley gave me a “what's that?” glance, accompanied by a sassy tilt of the head. “Course you should. After I borrowed a little of that guilt that's been rolling around in here, she decided to take your free three o'clock.”
“Guilt?”
“I just asked if little Amy was her only daughter or if she had a spare—just in case things don't work out.”
I stared in silent admiration.
“You get goin' now. You better start in on that roll or Mr. Daryl'll show up and you'll have caramel on your teeth,” she said, and shooed me down the hall.
But she opened my office door before I'd had a chance to slip into a glucose high. “I forgot to tell you that a Senator Rivera called.”
“Oh?” I glanced up, immediately nervous.
“He's got a mighty sexy voice for a Republican.” She scrunched up her face a little when she said it. I was going to have to guess she voted for the other side.
“What did he want?”
“Asked that you call him soon as you get a chance.” She glided into my office like an angel and set a note beside the roll. “Home phone, cell phone, pager,” she said, and left.
Unfortunately, I didn't have time to be floored by her efficiency. Back-to-back clients kept me on my toes until nearly noon, at which time curiosity took me by the throat. I set my records aside and called the first number on the list.
“Caring Hands,” said a chipper voice.
I glanced at the phone. “Um … I'm sorry. I was given this number for Senator Rivera.”
“The senator? Hang on a minute.” She covered the receiver, but I could hear her clear as vodka. “Hey, Emmy, is the senator still here?”
The answer was out of my range, but in a minute Chipper was back on the line. “I'm sorry. We can't seem to find him right now. I thought he was serving lunch, but maybe he's helping on the floor.”
I blinked. “We're talking about Senator Rivera, right?”
“Yeah. If you want to leave a number I can try to get him a message, but my shift's done here in fifteen.”
“Senator
Miguel
Rivera?” Somehow I couldn't quite see him dishing up reconstituted mashed potatoes in his Armani suit.
“Yes, ma'am. If you want to come see him yourself, he'll be here until five or so.”
I hung up
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