Unless Cameron was home with her and they had the day to themselves, Amanda wasn’t the biggest fan of Saturdays in general. Since nothing honestly important enough to drag her into work had happened and Cam was still out – or had gone back out, whichever – she was left eyeing the clock in the kitchen with a growing impatience that had the last three fingers of her right hand drumming against the wireless phone she was carting around. Dinner was her thing, she cooked the dinner; she would be damned if she was eating on her own. Pouting slightly at the stove that was half-ready to make a meal, she tilted her head in a sulk. The expression would have worked on her husband. If he knew what was good for him it would, anyway, because she was hungry. But he wasn’t answering his cell, so he was likely in a meeting (had he gone to work?) or driving. Preferably home. Poking irritatedly at one of the pan-handles, her foot tap-tap-tapped out an agitated rhythm on the floor while her free hand twirled a piece of her hair. If this delay was her father’s work she would be having words with her mother, purely out of spite. There was little more Tiffany Montgomery-Blake excelled at than getting under Michael Blake’s skin when she truly wanted to. Even if it was just to prove she still could.
And that would be the phone – but not Cameron. The scowl Amanda’s face arranged itself into could have wilted flowers had they any living plants within her sights. That she had unnerved the caller by answering so quickly gave only the tiniest hint of satisfaction before even that was blown away by a bout of sheer idiocy.
“Wait, and you think that is my department?” Her head tilted with a bemused smile that, once this call was over, was going to send a voicemail to the first underling she could remember the name of to remind her to slap the fucking moron killing off her IQ. “So I’m, what, supposed to tell the Mayor to ask the nice angels to continue their accidental killing of children somewhere we don’t have to see?” There was a pause while he thought how best to respond to that. When the answer was ‘No…’ Amanda hung up. Really, she wanted to know how the Mayor’s Office was truly supposed to deal with any fall-out from the presence of things that apparently did not even belong on this plane of existence. If it was covered if her job description, that print was really fucking small.
She also needed to make that underling remind her to change that goddamn bell. Maybe it was just today and the fact she hadn’t found anything worth spending her money on when she went shopping that morning, but Amanda hated today. Even more did she hate the fact Cameron didn’t ring the bell – he had keys. Her growing resentment gave way to a brief thud of panic in her chest, easily brushed off as an irrational reaction. She didn’t need to check the study for where he would have left them. She didn’t. She was being ridiculous.
Fucking hell. You’ve seen Liliya Kennedy with one leg – open the damn door.
Hovering slightly, she set the phone down and turned the handle, the level of her gaze dropping with a horrified recognition when she wasn’t greeted by an adult. The thud in her chest sank to her stomach like a rock, to be replaced with ice water. She needed the phone. She needed for Cameron to come back. She needed to close the door, but her arms weren’t obeying. “Bubbles.” Like she could forget, or even let herself. The word on its own didn’t have a shred of wholesome anything in it any more. “Bubbles Cooper.” The dog’s name got a very brief and mirthless laugh. It could have been funny from someone else’s mouth.
“Hi, Cujo…” Amanda tried to ignore how forced the niceness sounded, even for her. There. Was that what she wanted? She had said hello, met him. Now they could both fuck off.