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“So, if you don’t work for an agency, who is your employer?”
“Oh, I’m not employed by anyone right now. See, I was supposed to “die” for a job, but that went south fast. I’ve been floating around, trying to get back home. So far, I’m not having much luck.”
“I don’t think that’s about to change anytime soon.”
“Well, you know, all you need is an umbrella and you’re right as rain.”
“An umbrella?”
“Yes, they’re very useful. See, everyone assumes that they’re just for staying dry, but in reality, they can have all kinds of purposes. I like to use them as a weapon,” I grinned.
Okay, I wasn’t expecting a lot of laughs or even a smile, but come on, would it kill the guy to loosen up a little?
“Mr. Helmer?—”
“Dean. Or you can call me FNG. It’s sort of a nickname.” He raised an eyebrow at me. “I didn’t catch your name, by the way. Or anyone else’s. And not to press the issue, but it’s sort of rude to have someone in your home and not introduce yourself, or even offer a beverage. Maybe something with seltzer to calm my stomach?”
“I don’t think you understand why you’re here.”
“Oh, you want to torture me for information. Or beat me up. Personally, I would go with torture. Beating up is so…L.A. Ya know?”
“No, I don’t know.”
“Everyone in Hollywood does it. It’s really overdone. If you want information, you have to get to the source of the problem faster. At least, that’s my opinion.”
“And you want us to torture you?” he asked.
That was a ridiculous question. Who wanted to be tortured? Certainly not me, but it was a stall tactic.
“Oh, I’m just giving you some pointers. I know this guy—” I rolled my eyes for dramatic effect, “—the guy loves torturing people. His favorite is boiling people in acid. A little overrated if you ask me. Don’t get me wrong, he’s great at extracting information, but after a while, you lose that creativity.”
“Boss, can I shoot him?”
“Ooh,” I winced, shaking my head at the man. “Big mistake.”
“And why’s that?” the suit asked.
“Because I can’t die. I’ll just bleed all over your floor and cause a big mess. That’ll leave behind a lot of evidence you’ll have to get rid of. And the things they can do with crime scenes nowadays is nothing to sneeze at.”
“You could always just tell us what we want to know.”
“I could do that. In fact, if you let me use the bathroom, I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”
“You want to use the bathroom?” he repeated.
“Tap water, remember? I’ve got a bit of a situation going on. Now, that would not be fun to clean up,” I snorted.
“Take him,” the suit said, jerking his head toward the door.
The man grabbed me around the arm and hauled me across the room to the bathroom. After shoving me inside, I got to work. I dropped my pants for the sake of sticking with my story, then slipped off my shoe and removed the sole. I snatched the phone and clicked it on, making sure the program showed my location.
“Oh, man!” I moaned. “You would not believe how painful this is!”
I quickly shoved the phone back in the sole of my shoe and clicked it back into place. My stomach twinged again, but I pushed through. It wouldn’t be long before we had company.
I moaned one more time, just for the sake of making it all real, then waited a minute before flushing the toilet. A handy can of air freshener would mask the fact that I hadn’t actually used the bathroom. I sprayed it, then washed my hands for good measure. It didn’t matter that I hadn’t actually gone to the bathroom. It was a habit, and bathrooms were disgusting.
I swung the door open and strolled out, feeling even better about my plan. The suit now sat in a comfy oversized chair and motioned for me to take the seat across from him.
