Who: Nick Bauer and Sam Ellis What: It's not the first time a P.I. has come sniffing around Nick's boss; it is the first time one's been so pretty. Where: An office building in Brooklyn When: Tuesday, May 17, 2011; afternoon Warnings: TBD, but probably mild since it's a first meeting.
It sounded kind of fucked up to say that days when all Nick had to do was watch the door were boring but that was exactly what they were. It wasn't like he actually enjoyed busting skulls or putting the fear of god into someone who owed the boss some money. It was just a job that paid better than any other job that he could get with his education and connections. Nothing like a passion. Nothing like something that he'd ever pictured himself doing for the rest of his life. It was definitely better than sitting at a desk with the receptionist so that he could be ready just in case someone came in that needed to be escorted out immediately. There were always going to be those assholes and there was always going to be that one time out of ten that it was a good thing that Nick was sitting there ready to go. The other nine times though... the other nine times Nick was bored out of his skull.
He was alone at the desk right then. The receptionist was on a smoke break and instead of putting out the 'back in fifteen' sign Nick had volunteered to cover for her. As long as nothing too exotic came up and the most he had to do was sign for packages and transfer a couple of calls he should be alright. Any more complicated than that and he'd start trying to explain that he wasn't actually supposed to be doing this stuff, he was just trying to save himself from a death by inches from boredom. If they didn't understand that and got belligerent about it then at least he'd have something more interesting to do with his afternoon. The boss never had to know that no heads had needed to be cracked before Nick started messing up his stint at pretending he had any idea what to do as a receptionist. Too many people skills involved for him.
"Harold Grubb's office." Nick slouched down a little more in his chair and pressed the phone against his ear. "Uh-huh. Yep. Yeah. He's in a meeting right now. Should I put you through to his voicemail?" Nick had no idea if Mr. Grubb was in a meeting or not; he did know that Mr. Grubb liked to be the one making the calls instead of the one getting the calls. Gave him the luxury of choosing when to take it, according to what Nick had overheard him saying to the receptionist before this receptionist. Receptionists tended not to last long in Mr. Grubb's office. Nick was probably one of the longest standing employees that he had and that was because it was a lot harder to find someone who'd throw a punch and keep his mouth shut about it than it was to find someone to sit at a desk and answer a phone. The throwing a punch part was easy. It was the the silence part that Nick figured gave him some job security.
If the guy knew what Nick was saying inside his head he'd probably have been fired a long time ago. For starters... why would you ever actually keep the name Grubb? That just sounded like a dirty businessman's name. He'd seen plenty of bad movies. That was a villain name. If Nick were planning on being a dirty businessman he'd at least have made sure that he didn't have a name that sounded like his money was dirty... that was just him though. And it was definitely not his job to tell Mr. Grubb that his name might just be holding him back a little. What did he know about that kind of thing anyway?
"Yep. I'll put you through." That was a button press that Nick had managed to memorize at least. He was glad that was the standard procedure; meant he didn't need to learn anything else. Maybe if this whole hired muscle thing didn't work out for him he actually could have a future as a receptionist. Probably not though. Probably Nick would be better off finding almost anything else other than working as a receptionist. He definitely didn't fit behind the desk right. He dropped the phone back into its cradle with a sigh and slumped forward, bracing his elbows against the desk and staring hopefully at the door. Maybe someone would come in that he could manage to piss off with his incompetence. That was about the only excuse that he could come up with to get up from the damned desk and stretch his legs a little.