An Indian freelancer. Impressive. She had to be some kind of idiot savant.
"So with all this extra time, you've been helping Mr. Pyres meet women?" I probed.
She nodded. "Yeah, I thought about having Hassim work on that too, but I was worried about the cultural differences between Indians and vampires. You know they don't eat cows so…" Her voice trailed off. I had no idea what she thought the connection was, and I had no intention of finding out.
The Count swished through the living room leading the lovely Ms. Peyton to the door. After saying his goodbyes, he turned to us.
"Ms. Hudson, I'd like a word alone," he said. "Tabitha perhaps you can go downstairs and check for new messages. I'd like to get a couple more interviews in today. I thought you made more for this morning?"
She made a face. "I sure did, but Diana ran them off. She called them prostitutes just 'cause they were a little urban."
"Stop saying urban like that!" I snapped. "It's not right."
"Well, it's better than calling people prostitutes!" Tabitha snapped back.
"They were prostitutes!"
Tabitha stood up. "See what I mean?" she said to Mr. Pyres and left the room.
"Really, Ms. Hudson, I'd expected more from you."
I tried a different tactic. "Where's Betty Getty?"
He flinched. "She's not taking my calls."
"And why's that?"
"We had a small miscommunication. She was not happy about our open relationship."
"But you said she was okay with it," I insisted.
"It appears that when I asked her about having an open relationship, she thought that to mean we would share our feelings. Be open with one another." He fiddled with his cape and looked uncomfortable.
"So when she found out about your continued dating…"
"She threw a glass of wine in my face and called me a scoundrel. Imagine that!" he cried. "I am no scoundrel!"
"So let me help you patch things up with her," I said.
"No. I've decided to play the field."
"Tabitha has scheduled you interviews with prostitutes," I reasoned.
"What about Ms. Peyton? She certainly didn't look like a prostitute."
I have to admit I was puzzled by Ms. Peyton. She looked like a respectable woman. Attractive and successful even. Why the heck would she agree to an interview with The Count?
"No, I agree, but most women aren't going to want to be interviewed for a date unless they're prostitutes." And I wasn't so sure prostitutes were that agreeable to it either.
He thought about this for a minute. "If I were to consider trying to make up with Betty, what would you suggest?"
"Flowers first with a note of apology."
"Done! Can you take care of that on your lunch hour?" he asked.
"Sure. Should I tell Tabitha to cancel your other interviews?" I asked hopefully.
"No, no. I want to see the rest of the ladies. I'd hate to disappoint them."
I groaned.
"Really, Diana, I think you should be more thankful to Tabitha. She is quite a find." He preened in front of the ornate mirror near the front door.
"About Tabitha," I began. "Do you really need both of us? I'm back now and…"
"But you are now a famous rock person, aren't you? I caught your act on the Sunday news show. Very impressive, but who will take care of me when you're off on a tour bus?" he asked.
He had a point. I also had a fifty-seven thousand dollar check in my purse. I didn't really need this job, but it went against my grain to give it up to Tabitha.
"I understand if you want today to be my last day, Mr. Pyres." I felt sad saying it, but I couldn't blame him.
"Now, now, let's not be hasty," he said. "Let's see how the day goes."
I shrugged. "Sounds good. Tabitha seems to have the typing under control, so I'd like to go through your online profiles and make sure they are up-to-date."
He nodded and headed off to discuss his upcoming interviews with Tabitha.
* * *
A lovely bouquet of roses and a heartfelt card were on their way to Betty Getty. My next stop was the costume rental store to pick up my gown for the Renaissance Fair. I made sure to reserve the same dress each year. It was made out of pale shades of blue tulle and satin with silver threading in the bodice. I felt like Sleeping Beauty when I wore it.
My phone rang just as I left the shop.
"Hola, Queenie Baby," sang Carlos. "I've missed yer pretty face."
I smiled. "Hola, Carlos."
"Guess where I am, m'lady," he said.
"I haven't a clue."
"On my boat!" he cried.
"Your what?"
"My boat! They rented a big yacht instead of getting a house. We're docked in Annapolis."
"Impressive! Can't wait to see it. When's practice?"
"Every night at seven. The band's staying on here with me. You had any luck booking us locally?"
I hit my hand to my forehead. I can't believe I hadn't made those phone calls yet. "Not yet, but put Red Eye's open mike on your calendar for Thursday. I'll try to get some other bar owners to come out and see us there. Hopefully you'll have your pick of bookings after that."
"Aye, aye!" he cried before we hung up.
My phone rang again. This time it was The Count.
"Hello, Mr. Pyres. Everything okay there?" I asked, wondering what could have gone wrong in the twenty minutes I'd been gone.
"No, no, everything's fine," he said. "I was getting ready to go to lunch, and I had a thought about Betty."
"Okay."
"I'd really like to patch things up with her. Show her I'm a good guy, so to speak. You know how much she was looking forward to the Renaissance Fair?" He paused. I had a bad feeling about this. "Well, I thought perhaps she'd like to go with me, and you and I could do a little number together. What do you say?" he asked.
I was speechless.
He rushed on. "You know I play the hurdy-gurdy. We could do a tune together during your performance. I'm quite good at 'Merrily Kiss the Quaker's Wife.'"
"Uh, Mr. Pyre, I'd love to do that. But we really don't have time to practice."
He made a tut-tut sound. "No problem. I'll have Tabitha hunt down the lyrics and the music and email it to you. I certainly can carry my part," he said grandly.
A light bulb went off. "There's a talent show on Saturday. Why don't you have Tabitha go online and sign you up?" I asked, adding, "I bet that would really impress Betty."
"Well, I'm not much of a singer. You'd still have to accompany me. Unless, of course, you think it's too difficult."
"Fine," I ground out. "Have her send me the song. I'll work on it tonight."
I know I shouldn't have let him get my goat, but I couldn't let The Count one up me. Great, just great, I thought. I'd agreed to perform with a pirate and a vampire all in the course of a few minutes' conversation.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Back at The Count's, I watched from the doorway as Tabitha sorted out the prostitutes from the transvestites. It seemed they didn't appreciate being called into the same interview. It was hard to believe this many had agreed to an interview in the first place.
"Now look here, girlie," a big woman with bright purple hair said. "I didn't come here to wait with the likes of this. I never seen such a freak show."
I couldn't agree more. A "woman" wearing a lime green unitard strutted past me.
Tabitha seemed to have realized her mistake. She gave me a relieved smile when she saw me in the doorway and hurried over. "Mr. Pyres will be here in a few minutes. What should we do?" she asked, glancing around the room.
I chewed the inside of my lip. There wasn't a single person in the room who didn't have "crazy" written all over them.
"Looks like you're in a pickle."
"Well, duh," Tabitha rolled her eyes and snapped her gum. "What should we do?"
I raised my brows. "There's no 'we'. You go tell them the date's off."
Tabitha cle
ared her throat and waved her hands. "Excuse me, can I have your attention, please."
No one even looked her way.
A ruckus broke out as one of the ladies accused another of making a disparaging remark about her hairstyle. I caught "well, maybe I'll jest rip that weave right off" and decided I needed to get involved.
This was just like breaking up a bar fight from on stage, I told myself, as I climbed up on to Mr. Pyres' desk.
"LADIES!" I yelled. It took a few seconds before the site of me standing on the desk got their full attention. "I have some bad news."
"Yo' mamma called and wants her polyester pantsuit back?" called a high pitched voice. The rest of the group laughed.
Great. A heckler. It was actually a lovely linen suit I'd picked up from the Anne Taylor outlet.
I tried my best to keep up a professional front. "No, I'm sorry, but the interviews for the date are cancelled. We appreciate you coming—"
"I took two buses to get here! That girl," the woman pointed a long pink nail adorned with diamonds at Tabitha, "said he was a wealthy umpire and didn't have time to waste finding his own escort."
Tabitha put her hands on her hips. "Uh, no, I didn't."
Another woman turned towards her. "Oh, yes, you did! You said the same thing to me."
"No, I didn't!" Tabitha insisted. The crowd was starting to look more like a mob.
"Ladies!" I yelled. Someone threw a wadded up piece of paper at me. "Enough! I'm sure Tabitha didn't mean to mislead you. We are very sorry for any inconvenience. We will call you a cab if necessary."
"How 'bout my time?" yelled the purple haired woman. "I make a hundred dollars an hour."
The transvestite cleared her throat. "Excuuuse me, hundred an hour?" she put her hand up in the air. "Umm, I don't think so! 'Less you got some extra parts up under that skirt that we ain't seein'!"
The purple-haired woman made a lunge for the transvestite.
Suddenly, Tabitha screeched, "SHUT UP!" She stomped her feet like a two-year-old throwing a tantrum. "Shut up all of you!"
She pointed her finger at the purple-haired woman. "I never said he was a wealthy umpire! I said he was a wealthy VAMPIRE!"
There was stunned silence. "Did she say vampire?" I heard someone whisper.
"Yes! Vampire, vampire, vampire!" Tabitha chanted, stomping her foot.
"I ain't messin' with a vampire," the transvestite cried.
"Me neither," called a few others.
There was some general discussion on the pros and cons of dating a vampire. It seemed for the moment that an out-and-out brawl had been avoided. I started to climb down from the desk when the door opened.
"Miss Hudson, what are you doing on my desk!" The Count boomed from the doorway. "I demand to know what is going on here!"
The group of women turned in unison at the sound of Mr. Pyres' voice. A collective gasp broke the silence as he stalked into the room, his red satin cape billowing behind him in all its glory.
"Lord, Jesus help us, it's a vampire!" shrieked the purple-haired woman.
Another woman screamed and made a run for the door. A general stampede ensued with several women claiming in loud shrieks they'd been bitten.
Within seconds the room was clear, and there was just trash and over-turned chairs to testify to the mob scene from moments before. And me on the desk, of course.
I shimmied down from the desk and gave Mr. Pyres a hesitant smile. Tabitha was crying loudly. "We've got it all worked out. No harm done."
"No, it's all my fault," Tabitha sobbed. "I don't know what I'm doing. I almost set you up on dates with prostitutes!"
Her wailing was working my overwrought nerves. I patted her shoulder. "It's okay. No harm done. Mr. Pyres met a lovely lady today, and I'm sure that date will go wonderfully."
The Count was having none of it. "Ms. Hudson don't try to sugar coat this. You were right. Tabitha is simply not qualified to do the job. I need someone I can count on to make sound decisions, who'll be there whenever I call. Not a teenybopper snapping gum and texting friends."
He had a point, but I didn't want to be his go-to-girl. In fact, Tabitha was starting to look like a much better fit for this job. "You're being too hard on her, Mr. Pyres. I think she's got real potential."
Tabitha stopped sobbing long enough to say, "I do?"
I nodded. "Yep. And I think you should be Mr. Pyres' first assistant, and I'll be your backup. After you're completely trained, of course," I added.
"You'd do that for me?" she asked, wiping her eyes.
I patted her on the back. Mr. Pyres didn't look convinced.
"I'm not sure Miss Hudson…"
"Tabitha's done some great things while I've been gone. And you said yourself she's able to get the transcribing done faster than I ever did."
He pursed his lips. "That's true…and I did like the idea of interviewing my dates."
I cringed. "Maybe that could still work. We could set up a speed dating event for you," I improvised. "In the meantime, you can call Betty and ask her to be your date for the Renaissance Fair."
His face lit up. "Yes, yes! And tell her about our entry into the talent contest. I have a most interesting costume! Of course, I will need help finding a cape to match. I was thinking something with sequins! Tabitha, I'll need you to start working on that. Oh, yes, and find the lyrics and sheet music for 'Merrily Kiss the Quaker's Wife,' and email that to Diana this afternoon."
I looked over at Tabitha and smiled. Being backup assistant was just fine with me.
* * *
I had my Sleeping Beauty costume draped over my arm as I opened the old brass and wood door into Greene's Staffing. The bell jingled over it merrily. Carol was on the phone, and the office was empty. I set the gown and my purse down on a desk and gave her a wave.
"Okay," she said after she hung up. "Mr. Greene should be here in a couple of minutes. Mark has asked to be on speaker for the meeting."
The door opened, and Mr. Greene walked in with his trophy wife, Marcie, on his arm. Marcie always looked like she was afraid of getting cooties from the office. Which, on some days, was a valid concern.
"I'm so glad to see you both," Mr. Greene greeted us warmly. "And thank you, Diana, for all your help in Puerto Rico."
"Yes, David seems so much happier since he got back," Marcie sniffed, conveniently glossing over David's involvement in numerous illegal activities, not to mention jeopardizing the staffing agency. "Although I'm not so sure about that girl you introduced him to. She seems a bit…fast."
Oh, brother. And David is such a saint? "Margarite is a very nice girl," I replied diplomatically.
The phone rang. Carol answered, and a few seconds later I heard Mark's voice. "Is the gang all there?"
My stomach gave a little flip. How'd he do that all the way from Atlanta?
"How's my Queenie Baby?" he called, doing a fair imitation of Granddaddy.
I laughed. "I'm here. I survived my day with The Count."
"No bite marks, right?" he asked.
"Very funny." I reddened a little and didn't make eye contact with anyone.
"So here's the deal," Mr. Greene began, clapping his hands together, "As you all know, I want out of the staffing business. But I don't want to sell to a stranger. I'd really like to see Carol as the owner. But she's having some understandable misgivings about becoming a business owner. I thought getting us all together would help work out the kinks and get this deal done."
"Mr. Greene, I am flattered that you have that much faith in me, but I can't afford to buy you out," Carol said sadly.
Mr. Greene waved his hand. "That's just the details. We can work out a repayment plan. I need to know if you want to be a business owner. I can't promise it'll be easy, lots of hard work in the beginning I'm sure."
I could see the thought of spending even more time at work wasn't a great selling point to Carol.
"Geez, Ed, don't scare her off," Mark cut in. "Carol, I'm going to be working on redeveloping th
e land for at least the next year, so I'll be there to help."
"But you don't know this business," Carol said. "And while I appreciate the offer, you didn't exactly do a bang up job when you covered for me."
I laughed. That was an understatement. Mark's attempt at running the agency when Carol was out with a bad back had been a disaster.
Carol walked around her desk and took a seat. "I just don't know," she said. "It might be better if there was another owner, someone who had capital and knew how to run a business."
"Are you kidding me?" I cried. "You know how to run this business! Better than anyone else could ever hope to run it. Just tell Ed, 'yes,' and we'll work out the details." Really, this seemed like a no-brainer to me.
Carol turned to me. "I'm not a risk-taker like you, Diana," she said sadly. "I don't run off to Puerto Rico chasing bad guys and playing on stage with rock stars. I don't think I can do this on my own. I enjoyed working with Mr. Greene to grow the business."
"He was barely ever here," I pointed out.
"Yes, but he was only a phone call away, and he made the big decisions. If I had a partner, it might be different. Someone with some working capital."
The check in my purse seemed to vibrate.
Ed dismissed her cash concerns. "Don't worry about the money. I can hold a note on the agency and float you a short-term loan until you get up and running on your own."
"I can't do that, Ed," Carol said with determination. "If I do this, I can't be completely dependent on you. Holding the note is one thing, but paying for day-to-day expenses is another. Unfortunately," she said with a sigh, "I don't have much in the bank."
From somewhere in the recesses of my sanity a voice yelled, "Do it!"
"I'll be your partner, Carol," I said suddenly. I dug through my purse for the check, scattering tubes of lipstick and hair ties across the desk. "Is fifty thousand enough?"
There was shocked silence.
I looked around the room. They stared at me like I'd just robbed a bank.
2 Queenie Baby - Out of Office Page 16