"Sophomore, actually," Mike bashfully said. "I know it's against state law for me to be here by myself, but Scott really likes this girl, and all I do is answer the phones."
"Don't worry, it won't affect my investment decision," Marcus replied. He and Mike small talked until a large Pressman truck pulled up in front, and a beefy upper middle aged man got out. His polo shirt was stretched across a stomach that looked like it had seen more than its fair share of good steaks in its time. Marcus looked at the man, then over at me, flicking his head. I read his signal, he wanted me to be in full distraction mode.
"Hello, you must be Mr. Pressman. I'm Sophie Warbird, Mr. Smiley's personal assistant."
Papa Pressman was just like his son, and could barely keep his eyes off of my cleavage and at least somewhat politely on my face. "Nice to meet you Miss Warbird. I have to say, this is highly irregular."
"We understand Mr. Pressman, and we apologize for that. It was just that Mr. Smiley was so intrigued by your petition for an investor that he wanted to move quickly. As you know, we just moved into the Mount Zion property."
"Yes, I've heard about that," Pressman said. "I have a friend who was contacted about some of the electrical work, but had to pass on the job."
"I'm sorry to hear that. While we have good heating and air now, the process taught us a lot about the importance of a good contractor. So we've been looking for a place to invest in."
"And of course maybe having someone on call who can come fix that place," Pressman said with a knowing grin. "Let's face it, places like that need repair all the time."
"They do," I conceded. "If you don't mind Mr. Pressman, lets you and I talk while Marcus gets a knowledge lesson from your son. I do most of the investment decisions for Mr. Smiley."
"Of course, but I'll be honest I'm not exactly ready to talk numbers," Pressman said.
I waved it off with a small laugh. "That's okay, neither am I. I have all the numbers I need back at the office, in fact probably too many. I just agree with my fiancée in that the numbers don't tell us everything. The people are just as important."
"Well, the people I can talk about all day." Pressman grinned and looked over at his son. "He's the reason I asked for investment. Him and my son Scott. A single shop with four trucks is enough for me. I raised a family and I set up a good retirement for myself in about a decade. But it's not enough for two sons. So I want to spend this next decade expanding, setting everything up so that Scott and Mike can be set up in a better place than I am."
I nodded, drawing out the conversation. Pressman continued to blather on, and I could see that while part of him was trying to tell the truth, he was far to well off to be worried. I didn't know any other air conditioning repair shop owners who wore thousand dollar dive watches while at the same time trying to put himself off as only upper middle class. Eventually, I saw Marcus pat Mike on the shoulder and come over. "Sorry about that Mr. Pressman. You have a remarkable son."
"Thank you, Mr. Smiley," Pressman said. He tilted his head for a moment before shaking it. "Sorry, you just reminded me of someone for a moment."
"I get that a lot," Marcus replied. "I just seem to have one of those familiar faces to some people, I guess."
Chapter 9
Tabby
I could barely contain my trembling fingers as I reached for my cell phone. It was exactly twelve fifteen, and I'd already been up since five in the morning, after a night of tossing and turning.
Scott had never left my thoughts the entire night. I'd even gotten up at about two to take an Ambien, which I hadn't done since my college days to try and reset my body clock after a weekend long party. It took a bit of the edge off, but I didn't get more than two hours of sleep all night.
I knew what Scott was asking for. And I knew what I wanted. That was all there was to it. I needed him, and I needed him like I needed air or water.
Growling in frustration, I cleared my phone's dial for the third time. My fingers were trembling so much that I was double typing numbers all the time. Finally, I took a deep breath, and tried for the fourth time. The call went through, and I prayed to whatever deities listened to women like me that I had the right number. "Hello?"
Relief and desire washed over me in alternating waves as I heard Scott's voice in my ear. "Scott, hi. This is Tabby."
I could hear a bit of a chuckle in his voice. "You waited all the way until twelve fifteen. I was beginning to think that I had guessed wrong."
"No, you guessed right," I said, feeling my heart swell and tears come to my eyes. "You don't know just how right."
"I can bet," he said, his words like honeyed potion in my ear. "And because I only got about four hours of sleep myself."
"Twice what I got," I replied. "Scott, I need you. I want you. Please, come over."