Page 64 of Shockproof

“Wahl.”

“You look awfully dressed up,” Blu verbally points out while dragging his laptop closer for viewing, inspiring me to move my stuffed animal over to our side. “I’mma guess you weren’t working late at the office.”

“I was not.” The man we all answer to begins to shrug off his trench coat. “I was actually at the opera.”

“Alone?” Slater’s best friend thoughtlessly cringes. “Isn’t that like the rich people equivalence to drinking alone?”

“I wasn’t alone.”

His announcement has the man pressing his front against my back slightly untensing.

“I was on a date.” He drapes his piece of attire over the edge closest to him. “Thankfully, she was quite understanding about my necessary but abrupt exit.”

Excitement crashes into curiosity causing me to question, “Was it the museum docent you swore had a phony French accent?”

Slater wordlessly returns to his rigid position once more.

“No. And her accentisphony.” His hands find their way to his black pants pockets. “Trust me, Arley. I’ve been to Marseille enough to know the difference.” Rather than further elaborate on that particular subject, he announces, “It was Amia.”

“The smokin’ hot barista!?!”

“Why do you know about this woman, Angel Cake?” Slater’s crisp, jagged, red shaded lettering summons my stare over my shoulder. “Or the other woman?”

“And how hot?” Blu naturally investigates. “On a scale of one to ten, Aviva being a solid nine, where does this Amia woman fall?”

Not in the mood for what always turns into an argument, I let an exasperated sigh fall loose. “Harvey mentioned last week that he wanted to start dating again and figured since I was in ahappy,committedrelationship that perhaps I might be able to offer him some feminine insight.”

“At least one of those things is true,” Slater’s best friend pokes.

I swiftly shift my stare back his direction and sassily scold, “You want me to tell Aviva you called her a five?”

“I said a nine.”

“And I will make it afiveif you don’t mind your business in this conversation.”

His light chuckles are accompanied by him tossing his hands innocently into the air.

“Arley offered me some great advice,” Harvey calmly proclaims, forest green blocking settling neatly on the island. “Advice that led to me asking out a very attractive woman who turns out is only working at the coffee shop as part of a field study regarding behavioral patterns of individuals who consume central nervous stimulants – such as caffeine – daily.”

“Brains and beauty?!” Gleeful giggles can’t be stopped. “Jackpot!”

“It is a winnin’ combination,” Slater slyly inserts, red lettering skating across my cheek right before his lips plant a chaste kiss against the side of my forehead.

“It is.” Our boss agrees. “And because she herself is working on a very demanding PhD, she completely understood work interrupting our evening. We will meet for dinner tomorrow assuming whatever it is you dragged me here to see, Blumel, doesn’t require rescheduling that.” He clears his throat and motions to the laptop waiting to be acknowledged. “Proceed.”

“I have good news,” Blu cautiously begins, “and I have what the fuck do we do next news.” Double clicking the mousepad brings up five different shots of one individual. “Thanks to Arley’s signature tip, Wiz was able to find us a very viable lead. This ‘executive’ is the only person who works at all five corporations under different aliasesandin the same department.”

“Accounting,” Slater confidently states.

“You are correct, tall, dark, and dramatic.” The stab in the air he throws at his best friend receives a flash of his partner’s middle finger. “This man appears to be the most responsible for all financial activity regarding each enterprise.”

“Which makes sense,” our boss thoughtfully concludes, green wording remaining it’s faithful, simple form. “You’re operating under a shell game principle – most likely used to conceal illegal activities – therefore, you wouldn’t want too many people handling those particular accounts and records.”

“Exactly,” Blu agrees prior to continuing. “So, the good news is, we have all five of his faces, names, social security numbers, routines, and personalities. The not so good news is that there’s no way to tell which persona is ‘the most legit’ because his forgery papers are so good that they could pass high level security clearance shit.” He lifts his hand to loudly whisper beside it. “Which Wiz is pissseeedddddd about.” Folding his arms across his chest is followed by a small shrug. “What we have is a target with a plethora of information we can use but no real way to narrow its use to make it actually useable.”

“Not true,” I mindlessly argue, immediately receiving all the attention in the room.

When I don’t add anything else, Harvey diplomatically declares, “Elaborate.”

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