preparing an assignment for one of my associates. I get a sort of "sense" about what a man's going to respond to just by talking to his wife. Of course, it's not exactly the same as standing right in front of him and being able to predict what he's going to do next, but I suppose it's still a good use for my so-called ability.
It doesn't work quite as well when I'm preparing the female fidelity inspections, but I do the best I can.
The drive from Brentwood to the office can take me anywhere from eight to fifteen minutes depending on traffic and how many red lights I hit along the way. Today, I made it in seven.
Although I've been known to talk myself out of a few speeding tickets in the past, if a cop had caught me doing seventy down Wilshire Boulevard, I'm fairly sure I would have found myself trying to talk my way out of a jail cell.
But I was already fifteen minutes late to my morning staff meeting, and I don't like being late for anything unless there's a good reason. And I didn't think Sophie's tilapia meltdown or my boyfriend's sudden craving for a morning quickie constituted a good enough one.
I rode the elevator to the top floor and walked briskly down the long corridor toward the waiting double glass doors at the end. The same ones that I've walked through every morning for the past year. Suite 1207.
Hadley, my newly hired twenty-two-year-old assistant, was sitting in her usual seat at the front reception desk under a large chrome-plated sign that read, THE HAWTHORNE AGENCY.
Hadley was the kind of girl you wouldn't normally look twice at. Her dirty blond hair could have used some highlights, and her large brown eyes could have used a touch more makeup. My guess is she'd probably spent the majority of her life relying on her brains rather than her looks. She was fresh out of college and had been recommended by one of my associates, who assured me she was both hardworking and trustworthy. Obviously, the latter is one of the more important qualifications of this job, given the secretive nature of our business.
She had been here only a few weeks and was still learning the ropes, but she was eager, well organized, and a quick learner, so I couldn't complain. I'd hired her after my former assistant, Marta, told me she was leaving. Her resignation came as something of a surprise since Marta had been with me from the beginning. But when I tried to talk her out of it, she simply flashed me one of her knowing, motherly smiles and said, "I've helped you get exactly where you needed to go. Now it's time for me to help someone else do the same."
And I really couldn't argue with that.
Upon seeing me walk through the door, Hadley jumped out of her seat as if she were rising to greet a foreign dignitary. "Good morning, Ashlyn," she said with bubbling enthusiasm. "That costume you asked for was delivered this morning. I hung it up in the prop closet. And I left all your messages on your desk." Her eyes fell to a paper cup on her desk, filled with steaming hot liquid. "Oh!" she exclaimed, grabbing the cup and holding it out for me. "And I made you some coffee."
I smiled gratefully at her. "Thanks, Hadley. But I actually only drink tea in the morning. I save my coffee for the afternoon. When I need an energy boost."
Her large doe eyes blinked a few times as she digested this new information, and I was afraid that she might actually start to cry. But instead she placed the cup back on her desk and began scribbling something in a spiral notebook. "Tea morning. Coffee afternoon," she mumbled as she wrote. Then she looked up at me and smiled. "I'm sorry. I promise I'll get it right next time."
I had to laugh at her eagerness. "It's no problem. Don't worry about it. Is everyone already inside?" I asked, cocking my head toward the door to my right.
She nodded, and I headed into the conference room.
As soon as I entered, conversations faded away and five pairs of eyes focused their attention on me. I took my seat at the head of
It doesn't work quite as well when I'm preparing the female fidelity inspections, but I do the best I can.
The drive from Brentwood to the office can take me anywhere from eight to fifteen minutes depending on traffic and how many red lights I hit along the way. Today, I made it in seven.
Although I've been known to talk myself out of a few speeding tickets in the past, if a cop had caught me doing seventy down Wilshire Boulevard, I'm fairly sure I would have found myself trying to talk my way out of a jail cell.
But I was already fifteen minutes late to my morning staff meeting, and I don't like being late for anything unless there's a good reason. And I didn't think Sophie's tilapia meltdown or my boyfriend's sudden craving for a morning quickie constituted a good enough one.
I rode the elevator to the top floor and walked briskly down the long corridor toward the waiting double glass doors at the end. The same ones that I've walked through every morning for the past year. Suite 1207.
Hadley, my newly hired twenty-two-year-old assistant, was sitting in her usual seat at the front reception desk under a large chrome-plated sign that read, THE HAWTHORNE AGENCY.
Hadley was the kind of girl you wouldn't normally look twice at. Her dirty blond hair could have used some highlights, and her large brown eyes could have used a touch more makeup. My guess is she'd probably spent the majority of her life relying on her brains rather than her looks. She was fresh out of college and had been recommended by one of my associates, who assured me she was both hardworking and trustworthy. Obviously, the latter is one of the more important qualifications of this job, given the secretive nature of our business.
She had been here only a few weeks and was still learning the ropes, but she was eager, well organized, and a quick learner, so I couldn't complain. I'd hired her after my former assistant, Marta, told me she was leaving. Her resignation came as something of a surprise since Marta had been with me from the beginning. But when I tried to talk her out of it, she simply flashed me one of her knowing, motherly smiles and said, "I've helped you get exactly where you needed to go. Now it's time for me to help someone else do the same."
And I really couldn't argue with that.
Upon seeing me walk through the door, Hadley jumped out of her seat as if she were rising to greet a foreign dignitary. "Good morning, Ashlyn," she said with bubbling enthusiasm. "That costume you asked for was delivered this morning. I hung it up in the prop closet. And I left all your messages on your desk." Her eyes fell to a paper cup on her desk, filled with steaming hot liquid. "Oh!" she exclaimed, grabbing the cup and holding it out for me. "And I made you some coffee."
I smiled gratefully at her. "Thanks, Hadley. But I actually only drink tea in the morning. I save my coffee for the afternoon. When I need an energy boost."
Her large doe eyes blinked a few times as she digested this new information, and I was afraid that she might actually start to cry. But instead she placed the cup back on her desk and began scribbling something in a spiral notebook. "Tea morning. Coffee afternoon," she mumbled as she wrote. Then she looked up at me and smiled. "I'm sorry. I promise I'll get it right next time."
I had to laugh at her eagerness. "It's no problem. Don't worry about it. Is everyone already inside?" I asked, cocking my head toward the door to my right.
She nodded, and I headed into the conference room.
As soon as I entered, conversations faded away and five pairs of eyes focused their attention on me. I took my seat at the head of
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