Page 2 of Destined Chaos
The elevator dinged, and the doors had begun to close when a hand snaked into the opening, stopping the doors from fully closing.
Manicured fingers and polished gold cuff links were the first clue my day was about to be ruined. I pasted a strained smile on my face as the doors dinged and reopened, letting the latecomer slide inside.
Peter stepped in. His bloodshot gaze met mine. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“Yeah, fancy that,” I grimaced, knowing he must have timed it perfectly to catch me.
He pushed the button to the third floor.
“Listen, about last night…” My apologetic words trailed off as I debated what to say next that didn’t sound like I wanted him back but also didn’t border on the let’s-be-friends type of vibe. I rubbed at my neck, catching a glimpse of his reflection in the shiny surface without having to face him.
“It’s fine. You got scared,” he said, watching the numbers count up and acting like this elevator was the last place he wanted to be.
He could have avoided me. He had to have seen me get into this elevator car. This was on purpose, no matter how he was acting. I bit my tongue. Maybe he just needed to get the last word. Some people were wired like that, but I wasn’t one of them. If it helped the guy find closure and give him back some dignity, it was the least I could do.
“I’m a good catch, you know. Most women would have jumped at the chance to move in.”
“I’m sure they would,” I said, stroking his ego. “But I can’t get serious. It’s not in the cards for me.”
His strong jaw relaxed. “I’ll still be here when you come to your senses.”
The elevator dinged, the door opened, and he stepped out without a backward glance.
“Double damn cheese grits,” I cursed as the doors slid closed. He still thought we had a chance. Had I not made myself clear enough? I was sure returning the box of his things was a pretty good indicator that I wasn’t going to be changing my mind.
I cleared my throat and stepped out on the top floor and headed straight toward Champ’s office, where his secretary, Stella, glanced up from behind her computer and greeted me with a smile.
“When the feds flashed their badges, I knew you wouldn’t be far behind. They’re waiting for you.”
I didn’t doubt they were. Few people knew my secret, and it hadn’t taken Stella long to figure out that I sometimes knew things I shouldn’t, even if Champ had never explained the how of it before.
I rapped my knuckles on the office door before opening it.
All three men rose as I entered.
Champ’s office smelled of leather and his favorite cologne. The large desk was intimidating. The floor-to-ceiling window had an outstanding view of the mountains in the distance, but that wasn’t the best part of this room. The wall across the way looked ordinary to everyone that came, and few were privy to the magic that happened beyond that boundary. Magic I’d helped create first-hand.
“I’m sorry to interrupt.” The lie tumbled from my lips, shoving away the replay in my mind from the elevator moments ago. Now wasn’t the time to correct Peter again. He’d eventually get the picture. If not, we’d have the hard talk once again until he understood me perfectly.
Champ grinned like I was a secret weapon that these two were about to experience for the first time. His eyes twinkled. “Just in time, as always.”
“Who is she? Your attorney?” the frumpy gray-haired fed asked.
His wrinkled shirt made it look like the guy had just rolled out of bed. His coffee-stained tie told me that he’d at least scarfed down some caffeine. If I had to guess, this guy was less than a year away from retirement and riddled with short-timers’ disease.
“No, I’m his business adviser,” I corrected and set my initial-engraved briefcase, which Champ had gifted me, down onto his desk. He kissed my cheek and went to pull up another chair when I stopped him.
“Oh, I don’t have time to sit. This won’t take long.”
“Ms…”
“Libby Slaughter,” I said, offering my hand.
“Ms. Slaughter, I’m Special Agent Cross, and this is Special Agent Helms.”
The younger fed made the introductions and shook my hand before retaking his seat. He was dressed like a fed. Sharp, shiny, and stone faced. Well, at least I thought so before I glanced at his socks peeking out beneath his pants. Cartoon characters.
Perfect, well, at least maybe these two won’t have sticks up their…My thoughts trailed off. No bad juju allowed; only positive vibrations were going with me into the afterlife.
