Page 59 of Monsters

Chapter 22

NOW

“Sweet Jesus!” Charlie gasped from his desk, his fingers paused over the keyboard.

“What?” I asked, stopping in my tracks and staring at his frown.

“You look like shit,” he blurted. “I thought your little getaway was meant for relaxation? It looks like a freight train hit you… and then reversed.”

“Thanks,” I replied sarcastically. “Every girl loves to hear that first thing in the morning.”

“Well, I could lie—”

“No,” I interrupted, defeated. “Don’t do that.” I dumped my handbag on one chair and sat on the other. “Talk to me. How did the installation go? Any drama?”

He shook his head. “No drama to speak of. Other than Bernice Thornton scares the living shit out of me. That’s one chica you don’t want to be on the wrong side of.”

“Sounds like I didn’t miss much.”

“Not particularly.” Charlie leaned forward interlacing his fingers, one eyebrow cocked. “But I will let you know that David is on the warpath.”

I dropped my head back and groaned. “Why? What now?”

“Take it as a compliment. He obviously can’t live without you.”

“The feeling is not mutual,” I muttered, annoyed.

Charlie’s eyes glistened with a naughty playfulness. “Pity he’s not gay. Anyway, I’m gladly handing the reins back over to you, because you have way more patience dealing with the nagging human species than what I do.”

“I highly doubt it.” Hooking my handbag, I rose to my feet and headed into my own office, ready to tackle the mounting paperwork.

“Right,” Charlie sounded behind me, a clipboard in hand. “We have a new client who wants on our books.”

“Name?”

“Rufus Harding, with his Reminiscent series.”

“Hmm… get him to send through his portfolio.” I fell into my chair and waited for more.

“The insurance company has called regarding Maximus Kline. They want a written statement from you since you’re the curator. I have all the photos of the damage.”

“Have we heard from Maximus?”

“No, he took what was left that wasn’t damaged and is waiting for his paycheck. Oh!” Charlie squealed causing me to jump. “Your gift.” Dropping the clipboard on the desk with a clatter, he pushed forward a silver wrapped box the size of a Tiffany’s necklace gift.

“You didn’t tear at the corner to get a sneak peek, did you?” It was a light-hearted comment, yet my stomach rolled with anxiety.

“I didn’t, and you’ll never understand the strength it took to not.”

Outside on Charlie’s desk, the phone rang, but he didn’t move.

“You going to get that?” I asked, amused.

“Are you going to see what’s inside?”

“Is the suspense killing you, Charlie?” I smiled playfully.

“Biatch you know it is.”

---