Page 12 of A Protector For Phoebe (Love will OUT 2)

Chapter 6

When crazy comes calling, keep your eye on the door and lie through your teeth. ~ Phoebe’s rules for becoming a better person

“Hey, Phoebe,” Hailey calls before walking into my office where I’m writing up the report on the investigation into Stan Brown. “Good job with the Brown case.”

I smile as my whole body warms. Getting praise from anyone – let alone a boss – is a new experience, and I like it. “Thanks.”

“Anyway.” She takes a seat in the chair across from my desk.

It’s a miracle an extra chair fits in this office. In my old life, this room would have been a broom closet. I barely have enough room for my desk, my chair, and one visitor chair. But I do have a window and a door. I know Suzie eavesdrops on all my conversations, but at least I can shut the door and pretend to have privacy.

“I need to go out on a job, but there’s a potential client coming in soon. Can you handle him?”

My smile widens. I haven’t done any client acquisition yet. In fact, the Brown case was the first investigation I completed entirely on my own.

“You’re sure? You don’t want Suzie to handle it?”

Her eyes widen and she glances over her shoulder at the open door. She clears her throat before sitting up straight in her chair. “No, potential clients are handled by the investigators, not the business manager.”

I hear squeaking before Suzie rolls her office chair to a stop in the doorway of my office. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I heard you the first two million times.” She crosses her arms over her chest and leans back before stomping her foot. The chair goes flying backwards and then there’s a thud. “I’m okay!”

Hailey rolls her eyes before focusing on me again. “You sure? You’ll be all alone.”

“What am I? Chopped liver?” Suzie shouts.

“You know what I mean!” Hailey shouts back.

I giggle. Sometimes it’s hard to believe they’ve been the best of friends since grade school. I try not to be envious of their relationship, but it’s difficult. They have what I’ve always wanted. Close friends and close family where everyone accepts you for who you are. No one’s trying to mold either of them into their perfect version of a lady.

Hailey stands. “I’m out of here. Good luck.”

“Thanks,” I say but luck has nothing to do with it. I’m sure I’ll be fine dealing with new clients. After all, I practically have a doctorate in dealing with persnickety people.

I’m printing out the report for the insurance company when the bell over the outside door to the offices chimes announcing the arrival of a visitor to We Cheat, You Eat. I smooth my hand down my skirt and make sure my blouse is buttoned correctly. I’m surprised my hands are shaking. I can’t allow myself to show signs of being nervous. I’ll be chewed up and spit out.

No. In my previous life, I would have been chewed up and spit out. This is my new life. A new life I’m creating all on my own. I take a deep breath to center myself.

Suzie appears at my door. “Phoebe, there’s someone to see you.” She winks. Why is she winking? Suzie winking never heralds good news in my experience.

“Mr. Havers.” She steps aside. “This is our investigator, Phoebe Adams.”

I stand and walk around my desk to greet him. When the man enters the room, however, I falter for a step. I quickly right myself and extend my hand. I can handle a potential client who’s wearing a tinfoil hat. I blink to clear my vision, but the man is still wearing the handmade hat.

Mr. Havers steps into my office and his eyes dash around checking everything out before finally reaching forward to shake my hand.

“Please, have a seat.” I motion to the chair before walking around my desk and sitting. “How can I help you today?”

“You’re not one of them, are you?”

I paste a smile on my face. “One of whom?”

He leans forward and whispers, “The aliens.”

“No, I can assure you I was born and raised in America.” I pretend to misunderstand him, hoping he’s not as crazy as he appears.

“Not a foreigner. An alien. You know from outer space.” Guess the crazy ship has sailed and Mr. Havers has a first-class ticket.

“I am one-hundred percent, purebred human.”

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