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Circus of the Damned - Laurell K. Hamilton [9]

By Root 758 0
secretary, answered on the second ring. “Animators, Incorporated. How may we serve you?”

“Hi, Mary, it’s Anita.”

“Hi, what’s up?”

“I need to talk with Bert.”

“He’s with a prospective client right now. May I ask what this is pertaining to?”

“Him rescheduling my appointments for tonight.”

“Ooh, boy. I’ll let you tell him. If he yells at someone, it should be you.” She was only half-kidding.

“Fine,” I said.

She lowered her voice and whispered, “Client is on her way to the front door. He’ll be with you in a jiffy.”

“Thanks, Mary.”

She put me on hold before I could tell her not to. Muzak seeped out of the phone. It was a butchered version of the Beatles’ “Tomorrow.” I’d have rather listened to static. Mercifully, Bert came on the line and saved me.

“Anita, what time can you come in today?”

“I can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“Can’t come in today.”

“At all?” His voice had risen an octave.

“You got it.”

“Why the hell not?” Cursing at me already, a bad sign.

“I got beeped by the police after my morning meeting. I haven’t even been to bed yet.”

“You can sleep in, don’t worry about meeting new clients in the afternoon. Just come in for your appointments tonight.”

He was being generous, understanding. Something was wrong.

“I can’t make the appointments tonight, either.”

“Anita, we’re overbooked here. You have five clients tonight. Five!”

“Divide them up among the other animators,” I said.

“Everybody is already maxed.”

“Listen, Bert, you’re the one who said yes to the police. You’re the one who put me on retainer to them. You thought it would be great publicity.”

“It has been great publicity,” he said.

“Yeah, but it’s like working two full-time jobs sometimes. I can’t do both.”

“Then drop the retainer. I had no idea it’d take up this much of your time.”

“It’s a murder investigation, Bert. I can’t drop it.”

“Let the police do their own dirty work,” he said.

He was a fine one to talk about that. Him with his squeaky-clean fingernails and nice safe office. “They need my expertise and my contacts. Most of the monsters won’t talk to the police.”

He was quiet on the other end of the phone. His breathing came harsh and angry. “You can’t do this to me. We’ve taken money, signed contracts.”

“I asked you to hire extra help months ago.”

“I hired John Burke. He’s been handling some of your vampire slayings, as well as raising the dead.”

“Yeah, John’s a big help, but we need more. In fact, I bet he could take at least one of my zombies tonight.”

“Raise five in one night?”

“I’m doing it,” I said.

“Yes, but John isn’t you.”

That was almost a compliment. “You have two choices, Bert; either reschedule or delegate them to someone else.”

“I am your boss. I could just say come in tonight or you’re fired.” His voice was firm and matter-of-fact.

I was tired and cold sitting on the bed in my bra and undies. I didn’t have time for this. “Fire me.”

“You don’t mean that,” he said.

“Look, Bert, I’ve been on my feet for over twenty hours. If I don’t get some sleep soon, I’m not going to be able to work for anybody.”

He was silent for a long time, his breathing soft and regular in my ear. Finally, he said, “Alright, you’re free for tonight. But you damn well better be back on the job tomorrow.”

“I can’t promise that, Bert.”

“Dammit, Anita, do you want to be fired?”

“This is the best year we’ve ever had, Bert. Part of that’s due to the articles on me in the Post-Dispatch.”

“They were about zombie rights and that government study you’re on. You didn’t do them to help promote our business.”

“But it worked, didn’t it? How many people call up and ask specifically for me? How many people say they’ve seen me in the paper? How many heard me on the radio? I may be promoting zombie rights, but it’s damn good for business. So cut me some slack.”

“You don’t think I’d do it, do you?” His voice snarled through the phone. He was pissed.

“No, I don’t,” I said.

His breath was short and harsh. “You damn well better show up tomorrow night, or I’m going to call your bluff.” He slammed the receiver in my ear. Childish.

I hung up the phone

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