Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
“It’s Friday,” I remind him.
He just grins before turning back around to finish working on whatever he was doing before I interrupted.
He’s back to arguing with the damned bird before I can close the door.
I spend five minutes chatting with Jude in the breakroom before heading to my office. What I did yesterday wasn’t a mistake, but there’s no way to call someone and tell them to come back after making them leave without sounding like an asshole.
As I sit in my office chair, I wonder if I could get Pam to call Hayden and get her up here to sign the stupid paperwork. After ten minutes of staring at the phone, I look up her information in our computer system and make the call.
“Hello?” she says, answering after the third ring.
So much for just leaving a voicemail.
“Hayden Prescott?”
“I’m not interested.”
“Excuse me?” I ask, confused.
“I don’t care about an extended warranty. My roof is fine, and vinyl siding would look terrible on my house.”
I fight a laugh, wondering how many calls she gets for those types of things that she went through the whole spiel that quickly. I guess I’m just lucky she isn’t screening her calls, or unlucky depending on how you look at it.
“This is Quinten Lake with Blackbridge Security. I’m—”
“The giant jerk.”
I pause, not sure if she’s using giant in reference to my size or level of jerkiness.
“I’m the instructor for the shooting safety class.”
“Look, I didn’t want to go to that stupid class to begin with. I had no idea that Parker wasn’t registered. I don’t understand a follow-up call after being embarrassed. It’s not like I’m planning on leaving a bad Yelp review or something, so you’re wasting both of our time.”
This woman is so fucking feisty, and I must be crazy because I kind of like it. She’s like a stack of short-fused dynamite in a tiny little package.
“I’ve been told by my office manager that there was a mix up. You and your friend are welcome to rejoin the class.” I shake my head, knowing that sounded like a personal apology rather than some type of processing mistake. “I’ll just need you to swing by our main office at some point today to complete the paperwork.”
Silence fills the line, but the timer on the phone display is still clicking off the seconds, so I know she hasn’t hung up.
“Let me get this straight, you kick us out of class, realize it’s a mistake, and then expect me to spend my time coming to you to complete paperwork I could’ve easily done last night?”
I open my mouth to argue that I didn’t ask her to leave, that it was her friend who was the unauthorized attendee, but there’s no sense in arguing the point.
“It’ll only take a few minutes,” I say instead.
“The drive wouldn’t. Can I not just complete the paperwork at the next class?”
“We’ll need to go over the information you missed at last night’s class.” I find myself wanting to rile her up just to get another taste of her hair-trigger attitude. “I’ll need to reschedule that class for you sometime during the week. What day—”
“I can give you an hour before the next class, and that’s it.”
The corner of my mouth turns up. “Are you a fast learner?”
“I’m not an idiot, if that’s what you’re asking. What does the first class entail?”
“Missouri laws regarding handguns,” I answer.
“So nothing that requires actually touching them?”
“Correct.”
“I’ll bring a notepad an hour early.”
“I have a pamphlet. So, you don’t—”
The call goes dead, and I find myself equally entertained and annoyed as I place the handset back on the receiver.
She’s like a chihuahua. The size of a small animal with the attitude of a fierce lion.
Finding myself restless, I head back to the breakroom for a bottle of water.
“I hear you kicked someone out of your class last night,” Jude says as I enter the room.
Deacon’s head swirls around, his focus on the sandwich he’s making gone. “What?”
I glare at my friend for throwing me under the bus.
“Of course, you heard already. I would question Wren’s dedication to gossip if he let an hour go by without relaying our conversation word for word.” I make my way to the fridge, opting for an energy drink instead of water. “One of the women showed up with a friend that wasn’t registered.”
“You should’ve let her stay,” Deacon says before bringing his food to his mouth and biting into it.
“She left with her friend, but before you complain, I just got off the phone with her and let her know that her friend was more than welcome to come to class. We’ve made arrangements for her to come early to cover the material she missed last night.”
Satisfied with my explanation, Deacon nods before leaving to head back to his office.