Page 13 of S.O.S. Perk

Three hours later, with Mizzay’s normally pristine space littered with take-out bags that he’d had delivered, Perk wondered exactly how Mizzay kept from losing her mind. He’d had eleven calls regarding possible new jobs come in, he’d fended off seventeen persistent telemarketers, and he’d had quick convos with both Prez and Wiley, procuring information for them that they needed regarding their assignments. It was a multi-tasking nightmare as far as he was concerned as he tried to navigate all the different winding roads he’d been forced to go down.

The only one who hadn’t called yet was—

As if his brain had conjured the man, Perk’s phone display showed Del’s name.

“Hey boss,” Perk answered, trying for an enthusiasm he didn’t feel.

“Where’s Mizzay?” Del didn’t start with niceties like the rest of the guys. He just jumped right in.

“Great to speak with you, too,” Perk responded sarcastically, but then filled Del in. “Rory was puking at school, so Mizzay had to pick her up and take her home.”

“Damn. It’s fall bug season,” Del lamented. “Which means we’ll probably lose Prez at some point, too. Thank God Liam and Lila aren’t in school yet.”

Perk wanted to tell the boss good luck with that. It was only a matter of time before the man was in the thick of it. Liam had just turned four, and even though Brina and Del had eschewed nursery school for him, by this time next year their son would be in kindergarten and picking up all kinds of nasty shit.

Perk wouldn’t poke the man, though. He sounded a little stressed. Instead, Perk brought the conversation back around to business. For both their sakes. It wouldn’t be long before the phones began ringing again with impossible demands.

“What can I do for you, boss?”

Del quickly barked off his requirements. He needed some detailed intel about the news agency he was investigating whose CEO had disappeared. He didn’t want to access anything from that company’s computers, fearing that one or more of the department heads knew more than they were letting on about the lead man’s ghost-act.

“Okay,” Perk agreed, taking down the pertinent details. Give me a couple hours and I’ll see what I can dig up.” Luckily, Perk was pretty good at finding stuff online. Not deep computer searches or programming shit, but he was a whiz at working all forms of social media, just like the teenager he appeared to be.

“Thanks,” Del returned. “Send your findings over to me on my secured line once you have anything I might need.”

Del hung up, and Perk got busy.

One hand danced over the keyboard while the other shoveled chips into his mouth.

Between TikTok and YouTube infiltrations, Perk answered more calls, took copious notes on several jobs that sounded promising, and finally, as the afternoon waned, he sent everything he’d uncovered regarding the questionable CEO to Del, knowing that some of the dirt he’d found would help him locate the man.

Satisfied he’d had a productive day so far, before he lost all impetus and called it quits, he picked up the phone and contacted Mizzay.

“How’s puke-central going?” he asked when she answered.

“As expected.” The normally unshakeable Mizzay sounded harried. “Although Rory’s been able to keep liquids down for the past hour now, so fingers crossed.”

“Poor kid. I’m glad she seems to be on the road to recovery, though,” Perk offered sympathetically. “Um, if you’re up for it, I have a list of jobs that have come in. I’d like your opinion on which are priorities, and which I should turn down.”

“Hit me,” she agreed immediately. “I need to exercise my brain.”

They spent the next half hour going over the eleven inquiries that had come in. Mizzay had him jettison six as a waste of their time; telling him to inform the wanna-be clients that their local police departments were fully equipped to deal with their minor problems. Of the five remaining jobs, Mizzay prioritized them, had Perk add them to the team’s schedule, and instructed Perk to call each of the new clients back with a possible time-line for starting in on their requests.

Once Perk had hung up from Mizzay, it took him another hour to do as the amazing dervish had directed, until finally he sat back in his chair, completely worn out.

“How the hell does she do it?” he muttered to himself. For the first half of the day, he’d felt like he was on top of things, but as the hours had worn on, he’d become harried, his energy levels had flagged, until…

“Yup.” He slapped both hands on the desk and stood. “It’s time to hit the weight room.”

Forwarding any calls that might come in to his cell phone, Perk locked the lobby door, walked down the hall with purpose, and went into the small but well-appointed gym. There were dumbbells, barbells, weight-plates and benches, mats and medicine balls, kettle bells, pull-up bars, and foam rollers. Everything he needed to dispel the cobwebs.

Perk had just opened his locker when… his phone rang.

He groaned, then sucked it up. “SOS. How may I help you?”

Perk parked his ass on one of the nearby benches as a potential client began a long tirade about not knowing where his daughter was at all times, asking if SOS would be able to put a tracker on her that the girl wouldn’t know about.

When Perk suggested a phone app for doing the job, the man stated he’d already done that, but his savvy daughter had begun leaving her phone behind when she “went places”.

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