Janice Rand is an organization specialist (not_a_secretary) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2012-04-17 01:00:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, james kirk, janice rand |
"I did finally pass elementary last year."
Who: Jim Kirk, Janice Rand
What: Consulting, trying to turn chaos into order while searching for missing persons, and potential job offers. Janice definitely uses some creative cover stories when making inquiries.
When: Today/tonight, after this voice-mail message
Where: Laguna Beach
Rating: PG13, for some language.
Status: Complete
Janice, having responded to the nice lady's inquiry about a great potential job offer, picked up her phone and dialed the number that was left on her voicemail. She was pretty sure that it was some ex-client that she'd worked with before, mistaking her for a detective agency. Though, she supposed, working as a detective might not be that much different. And if the gentleman was a former client, who sounded just barely, vaguely familiar...it was better to try to keep in the good graces of others. One earned more money that way.
While waiting for the man to pick up the phone, Janice stood up and made her way from her home office into the kitchen, and began to make herself a very strong cup of coffee. One part coffee, one shot espresso. Dash of sweetener, splash of soy milk, stir.
No, it wasn't an ex-client, though he'd been an exclient before. And it was perfectly legal in several counties in Nevada and done with a then-girlfriend to spice things up.
And he wasn't even sure it was the right sort of place to be calling, but that was okay! She could be useful in other ways, he was sure. And none of them pervy!
He glanced at the phone. It wasn't Isabela, damn. He flipped his phone open, answering commandingly, "Jim Kirk."
"Janice Rand," was the instantaneous response, "and I'm not a detective, I'm an organizer. As an organizer, the first order of business I'd suggest in a missing person's case, is to call the police if it's been more than forty-eight hours. They will, naturally, put you on the suspect list if you do not have an alibi set in place. Do you have an alibi?"
Janice was obviously familiar with this situation too, but she's not going into detail. Oh no.
Kirk chuckled, "I could hire a detective, but he wouldn't have skills that would be useful after the case. I'm trying to figure out if a woman rented a sailboat and what port she might have sailed from, and be sailing to. After that, I have a project you might be interested in."
"My fee starts at fifty-five an hour, and I highly recommend a detective. Or contacting the police. I can make some suggestions though. Before we continue, however," she had to ask because she was trying to place the name with a face, something she was usually pretty good at. In fact, she was going through her online files doing a search and nowhere was Jim Kirk showing up. "Your name didn't ring a bell and I'm not seeing you in my records. Do you randomly consult personal organizers for things outside of their area of expertise, sir? And where do you want to conduct this search from?"
A paycheck was a paycheck after all. And Janice liked her perks. Besides that, she was out of canvases and could use some spending cash to buy a few more of the segmented wall-sized ones.
"I'm following a gut feeling," He replied, grinning into the phone. Even if that gut feeling had been motivated by WWIFWho would Isabela fuck, he had a good feeling about this woman.
"We could meet somewhere." He could afford three hours..and then see if she was interested in helping out in the other thing. That involves spaceships.
Janice had dollar signs in her eyes, already. This might be enough for her art supplies and a new pair of nice shoes. Though probably the art supplies first and maybe shoes next month, but she was adding it onto her to-do notes already.
"Are you a rapist?" she asked, with the sort of pinpoint precision of a targetting missle being launched at a enemy bunker. "Because I'd offer to work out of my home or yours, it's what I'm accustomed to. Failing that and if you are a rapist, I'll meet you at a coffee shop. Then I'll have to kill you if you try anything."
And yes, she swears she's worked for a few rapists, pedophiles, and genuine perverts before. Did they get anywhere with her? Hells to the no.
Especially not the pedophiles, because Janice? Too old for that.
"You're blunt, I like that. How about your place and I'll bring the pepper spray."
Jim was grabbing his coat, and a notebook already, as if decision had been made. And time was being lost. To the KirkMobile! That shiny sexy 65 corvette purr....
"No need, my place has pepper spray all over it. And that's for me to know where, and you to find out when it's too late," she stated flatly, while typing out an email response to the bar owner. She gave him her street address, and made a note of his name and phone number in her records, and that he was a 'home consult' so that there was a record of him, should anything untoward happen. He didn't sound like a pervert, but one could never tell these days. And, after all, he was looking for a woman. Unless that was a huge ploy to just get in, and get at her. She shot off an e-mail to her neighbors, just in case. "I'll see you soon, Mr. Kirk."
He was only as perverted as any other man his age, which was to say a lot, "Sure thing, Miss Rand." He hung up, and sped on over!
Janice's house was a comfortable little beach house, split on two levels. Of which she'd rented the entire upstairs, so she was the one who got the deck and the view. Downstairs was owned by some winery owner up in Napa Valley, and he only showed up on a rare occasion, so she mostly had the place to herself. And since he owned the building, while still costly, she'd done some consulting work for him and gotten the place at a discount, always paid her rent on time, and kept an eye on the place. Provision being no pets, but she could easily live with that, since pets were huge time and money consumption devices.
Janice, herself, stood outside her front door, close to the stairs, waiting. She was not a tall woman. In fact, she was slender, and probably only came up just to a taller man's shoulders. Even her attire was like plain khaki business-wear, which seemed pretty ho hum and somewhat expected for a blond-haired business woman to wear. There was still something imposing about Janice. It wasn't the height of her or that she was wearing anything that seemed fashionably abrupt, but her 'don't mess with me, I eat bullets and rusty nails for breakfast' stare. The stare, which - the moment he arrived - he probably was being given.
The chevy pulled up. He had left the top off so his hair was windblown and he was smoothing it down as he stepped out of the car. He looked up, regarding the town house and raising an eyebrow. Well she did charge out the ass. She looked like she could rip someone a new one, verbally. In other words, she was adorable. He strode up the stairs and held out his hand.
Her hand shot out like it was powered by lightning and rocket fuel. Firm grip, hands shook, and she let go immediately. He looked like trouble. Janice didn't like trouble, she liked things to go smoothly. But she was used to dealing with trouble, so this wasn't going to be anything new to her.
"Mister Kirk, I presume," Janice said, and motioned toward the doorway. "I meant what I said about the pepper spray. Don't make me use it on you. This way, please, so we can discuss the details and you can sign the standard forms, once we get an idea of what issues you might be up against."
Jim's middle name did begin with T, "You presume correctly, Miss Rand." He followed her, "I've been hit with pepper spray. Was doing a demonstration during a self-defense class and her finger slipped. Not something I'd recommend. But I hear it goes great on pizza!"
"Great, so I'll spray you if I have to, and order some Dominos. Then I can rub a slice on your face, you can feel the burn even more, and I'll eat it and let you know how spicy it really is." Yep, he was trouble, and a smart ass. This night just got interesting. Or long. Probably long. She turned abruptly and closed the door behind them, leaving it unlocked. "Please, the office is to your left, have a seat. Would you like some coffee, sir?"
"I'll pass," He waved a hand, taking a seat and leaning back like he owned the place. It looked like he belonged in a much better chair. Indeed, he'd turned the one in his living room into a virtual command center! If only he knew.... Well he sort of did, it did match the one in the dream, but he wasn't about to tell anyone THAT. "I'm looking for my girlfriend. She's the flighty sort when things get a little too intense, and she's very into sailing. We'd been discussing renting a boat."
After listening and watching him for a few more seconds - because he really did take command of a room, didn't he? - Janice disappeared to top off her coffee, and came back into the office, rounded the desk, and sat down. The desk was sparse, neat, organized, and made her somehow look smaller than she actually was. She took one lengthy sip of coffee, set the cup aside, and began typing.
"This sounds like something you might need a romance consultant or relationship therapist for. How much are you willing to pay, because this is a labor intensive process. I start at about fifty dollars an hour. For something like this, though, it might bump it up to seventy-five. It's going to involve several calls and inquiries." Personal details? It was up to him if he was going to blab those out, though she did, for just maybe one second, give him a sympathetic glancing at. It was gone in the blink of an eye, though. "I hate to say it, but what if she had a change of heart or mind, and left? How certain are you that she would have rented a boat? What about a car, or a plane ticket? If you are going to track someone down, you have to assume things outside of the ordinary as well, wouldn't you?"
She was tiny. And with her attitude it was even more adorable. He shook his head, "She might have, but she's worth the effort, at least." He leaned forward, resting his elbow on one arm of the chair in classic Kirk-pose, "And it would be a ship. She likes big boats, I can't lie." His mind drifted a bit. He'd mostly turned down coffee because it reminded him of her.
If she knew he was thinking that adorable thing, she'd reach under her desk chair or the desk itself, for duct taped pepper spray one and two, and use one (or both) on him (in tandem). Luckily she's not a mind reader, so he's safe. She did eye him again, and seemed to stop and stare for a second at the way he was leaning like that. But Janice quickly shook her head and concentrated on the details, because this seemed like a situation where time was of the essence.
"Fine, so it's a boat. I don't think you should rule out car rentals, entirely. How long ago? It's easier to narrow things down, if there's a time frame. And a description. Do you have a photo?"
Isabela, it reminded him of Isabela! He remarkable had no interest in her beyond the adorable part. Because she was adorable, pepper spray and all, "Two days ago. I can guarantee she'd go up the coast." He pulled out a print out of Isabela. It was a shot for the pawn shop, and one of the few he had that would be considered safe for work. Ahem.
She would vehemently disagree there was nothing adorable about herself, though she did spend a lot of time fussing with her hair. Even when she wore it down. Today was a upswept 'do day, and she was glad she'd chosen that because it appeared more businesslike. On her part, she didn't know a thing about this guy other than he looked like trouble, had some funny mannerisms that made her do a couple double-takes so far, and had a lost girlfriend with a fetish for big ships.
Janice took the photo, slapped it into a scanner, scanned it, and then pushed it back across the desk toward him. She glanced at the second monitor on her desk and made some adjustments to the color and quality, basic photo program stuff, typed, and a printer sprung to electric life, shooting out copies of missing person fliers.
Attention back on monitor one, Janice began typing again, picking what she thought was a reasonable search radius and looking up every boat rental business within the search area.
"I don't want to intrude, it's none of my business, sir, but did you have an argument or disagreement before the woman's disappearance?"
Janice thought maybe something might have been mentioned during said argument, perhaps in the heat of the moment, and that might help offer a clue.
Not just big ships, but he didn't want to get into Isabela's fetishes for once. He tilted his head, then shook it, "No. We were discussing a few things. First times, things we love to do that aren't sex, that sort of thing. It was a physical relationship before it became emotional. It's where the ship idea came from."
"Hm. Well that rules out any mention of where she would go, unless you both discussed this ship idea at any length," she decided, outloud. She'd heard far too many horror stories about couples cheating and one taking off before, sometimes with dire consequences due to jealous lovers. Food for thought. It also provoked her to ask like she was firing each word point-blank, "Again, not to intrude, but how long were you together?"
After all, a search for Orange County, California boat rentals was coming back in the hundred thousands of hits, so she was going to have to narrow down, using the map. It was going to be a long - but lucrative - night.
"Well, her first time was on a boat." He shrugged a shoulder, "We both talked about sailing. To her, sailing is like sex. Do it wrong, and it'll make you sick. But do it right, and there's no feeling in the world like it." He peered over, "Cross out anything with an engine, except for an emergency one. Cross out anything too big for a single person to sail. Start with ones capable of sustained travel at sea. Look for anyone who's bought a large amount of supplies. Water, food, for one person for a month at least."
"Already started, ahead of you," she said, because she had the beginnings of a list. "And far be it for me to make an observation but you've mentioned sex twice now in the past ten minutes. Was this a serious relationship, or merely a fuck buddy?"
Janice? She don't mince no words.
"It started as fuck buddies," He admitted, "It got serious when we realized there was complicated emotional bullshit to the fucking."
"There's your problem. You made it complicated for yourself by not getting the emotional aspect in first, and letting it come after so it slapped you upside the head, before you realized it was even there." She was a blunt creature, Janice was. But you didn't get anywhere by sugar-coating words all of the time. And in business, there wasn't time to sugar-coat or make it nice. That was saved for personal time, of which, she didn't have much of. And she was on a job right now.
The printer sprang to life again, this time with a duplicate copy of the revised search listing, and Janice took her pages, and handed him the stack of fliers and the other list. The printer was going again in an instant, and form 2A Standard Contract was printed out, and handed over as well. Not wasting time, she thrust a pen out at him. Black ink only.
"If you agree to pay the hundred dollar fee, which is a discount, because I might feel two percent sorry for you, for three hours work, then you can sign on the line. Otherwise I'll charge a flat fifty dollars now, for the print outs and search list and you can leave."
He grabbed the contract and flipped through it, reading quickly. He snorted a few times, "You've had some interesting clients in the past, haven't you."
"You haven't yet seen the official one-eh, one-bee, and one-cee forms." Because those were the true test of hiring her on. This was only a contract to assure she was paid, for a very short term temporary job. "This is just a standard overview with a brief outline. The one forms are for actual jobs, so this is just a crash course. First thing first, we begin calling and placing inquiries. Then, after you leave here, you go to all the areas she's frequented, as well as the areas where there’s the heaviest amount of boat rentals which fit the criteria, and you hang up those fliers."
"We'll worry about those forms if you're interesting in the other work I mentioned." He grinned, and signed for the three hours work. Once he found where she sailed from, he can then...do what?
Rent a boat and go after her ass, damn it. He would do it, too! "She's not a lost dog."
"This is just to cover bases and try to get a lead. It's pretty basic, and that's why they used to put faces on milk cartons. More exposure? Possible leads. I'm going to suggest, also, if you're really the concerned and in the lurch boyfriend you seem to be, that you contact the police and file a report."
She took the form, scanned it, copied, printed two, gave him a copy, twirled in the chair, filed a copy under K for Kirk, and the original under Contracts (Short Term). Then it was right back to working again.
"As for the other job? It's one thing at a time, Mr. Kirk. I'm not a detective, so these are only things that I can suggest. You can probably hire a very good detective, if you'd like me to look up a list for you to consult. It might make your search easier." She paused for a moment, took a drink of coffee, and then leveled a stare at him that was like a blue-eyed brick wall. "Or you could simply accept that you've quite possibly been dumped and move on with your life. It doesn't seem like you're one to give up though, and by all means, don't let me stop you from paying me money to do this."
"Maybe I've been dumped. I'd like to hear that from her." He shrugged a shoulder, "I'm not worried enough to file a police report. She's not missing, and she's not underage. She left."
He didn't want a detective either, "I need someone who thinks differently. Isabela is...chaotic."
"Sometimes making one's self scarce is just like saying it." Janice shrugged a shoulder right back at him, in a near perfect mimicry, like she'd seen that gesture a thousand and one times, and had learned how to perfect and throw it right back, like a mirror image. "And you're trying to combat chaos with organization? I organize the chaos, but I can't read into the mess, only try to sort it out and set it right. You take page two and start calling, and I'll begin with page one."
She picked up her phone, and began to dial.
He flipped his phone open in a likely distressingly familiar motion, and started to dial. He looked, if not grimly serious, potentially worried.
Okay, that was the third double-take of the night she'd had, since she caught herself staring at his phone. Also? That's why she suggested the police, because it nagged in the back of Janice's mind that the girl could have had some harm come to her. And he? Probably wasn't the culprit, if he was going through this much trouble to find her, even if he was using unorthodox methods.
Not much more time was spent dwelling on the matter, though, because the owner of the business answered the phone, and Janice immediately started talking, using her business voice, "Hello, I'm with the Orange County Sheriff's Office, and we're trying to track down a lead on a tall, dark haired, female suspect. She looks like she's from India. Yes. Stolen goods and fraud. She was looking to rent a boat. Yes. You haven't had anyone like that come in? All right, thank you for your time. Goodbye."
She hung up and looked on the list for the next number to call. And yes, she just impersonated a police officer. What of it?
He'd actually checked on where the big dude who'd attacked him was, first thing. Still in jail, awaiting trial for numerous charges. There'd been no damage at Miriel's, and she'd packed some things in a hurry from the Pawn shop, which she'd left to Jack. He thought about all that as he worked through his list.
He lifted his head, raising an eyebrow and grinning at her.
She did not grin (smile, or smirk) back, merely shook her head in response. There was a pen held between two fingers, and she was tapping one end of it very softly against the list she had in front of her. Again another business owner answered, and she launched into a new tactic to try to get some answers, "Hello, I'm with a detective agency and we're looking for a suspected art thief, who has made off with my client's very expensive painting. We have reason to believe she might have rented a boat to escape with it. Dark hair, looks like she's from India, really pretty. Has anyone matching that description come in and rented a boat from you? Yes, I'll hold while you ask your employees. Thank you."
She stared up at the ceiling, waiting. And waiting. And waiting some more. There was a low mwah bwah mwah mwaaah that could be heard from her phone that she was intently listening to. "No? Thank you for your time. If you have anyone like that, please call me back at this number...." She gave the owner Kirk's number and hung up. "Next."
Sadly, her stories were probably closer to the truth than any of them realized! "I swear I could half-picture her pulling stunts like that." Kirk laughed, then eyed her, "Smile for me. Lips. Upturned." He used his fingers to lift the corner of his lips, "Like this."
"If there's a positive outcome to this, then I'll smile." Her facial expression overall stated she didn't think there would be a positive outcome to this, and so it was going to be fat luck on his part, trying to get her to smile by contorting his face like a retard. Inwardly though, she found it hilarious. Outwardly, she was having to remain pessimistic, because she hoped he wasn't deluding himself. If he kept it up though, he was going to get rattled at, and not a far off distant rattle of sitting still or anything, oh no, it'd be like someone tucked a nest of rattlesnakes between her breasts, and all of them were going to strike at whatever came toward her for a boob grope.
"Don't be an ass, sir." She placed another call, and started right in again, "Hello, I'm with an escort service. One of our hookers has taken off with a client's credit card. We're trying to avoid a lawsuit. Yes, this is legitimate. No, it's not a lie, there's a hooker on the loose with a stolen credit card. Have you had any exotic Indian women...what? Yes, that's right, from India....come in and rent a boat or inquire about a boat? No? Thank you. You want the number of the service? Look up one-eight hundred whore-a-lot. That's spelled h...o...r...a...l...o...t. Right. No w and no e. Thank you, and yes, we'll look forward to doing business with you, too. Goodbye."
He'd get her to crack a smile if it killed him. He needed smiles right now. Even if the rattlesnake between the boobs was adorable. He wasn't going to grope without permission.
He shook his head, and burst out laughing, "She'd get a hoot out of that one. Especially him asking for the number! You're good."
"I felt bad saying that one. I didn't want to impersonate the police too much, though. But at least it's good to know that she'd enjoy it." She dialed with flying fingers, and wasted no time putting the next person on the line into her own version of a verbal firing squad, "Hello, I'm the secretary of James Kirkton, an incredibly rich billionaire who lives in Kuwait. He's lost his harem queen...." She launched into the description and waited for a moment. "No? Thank you, then. Pardon me? No, I don't do phone sex. Ever." She hung up, quickly, and went to consult the list after marking that number out with a show of hostility that nearly ripped the point of the pen right through the paper, entirely. "Bigger ass than you are, sir."
Kirk grinned stupidly, the mental image of Isabela (okay and Gaila, Uhura, Rand, and most of the other women he knew) in harem gear too good to pass up. Then he burst out laughing, "You have to admit, you'd pull off the repressed librarian thing."
"That's hardly the sort of commentary to make, given the situation. Mind you, we're not getting any leads," Janice said, trying to ignore him and/or his commentary, as she dialed again. Yet another phone call, yet another cover story.
"Hello, I'm with Dog the Bounty Hunter, and we're trying to track down a fugitive woman, before she leaves the state. Yes, this is legit. We're filming in more than Hawaii, after all. Tall, female, darker skin tone, black hair, looks like she's from India, wanted to rent a boat. Pardon? Yes, I might be able to talk him into an autograph, but we're really only interested in legitimate leads and he will get up in your grill if you lie and he wastes his time showing up there, and she's not been there at all. Hm? No? No one like that's been in? Fine, thank you for your help. Goodbye."
She hung up with a sigh, and checkmarked that one off. As well as scribbling the word 'drooling idiot' in small, neat print, beside the business name.
Kirk chuckled, "Yes, it's hardly the commentary for most people, but she'd make worse comments than me." It's why they went so well together. He hung up just in time before he burst into laughter again, "Okay okay, next one, scientific research?"
"I'm not sure if that's good to know or not." Janice shook her head like nope, not scientific research. But he was free to try that one if he wanted! She held up one finger, and talked into the phone since she already had another person on the line.
"Hello, I'm a representative from the Miss Universe Pageant. One of our contestants is on the loose, trying to escape so she can indulge in burgers and fries. We need to find her before she gains any weight. She also left behind her prescription medication, so she might be unbalanced." She gave the description out, again. "No? Thank you. Yes, they use vaseline on their teeth. Yes, it's utterly disgusting. They make the little girls do that too, for pageants. Sadistic. Thanks again. Bye."
He leaned his chin on his fist, "You'd fit in perfectly."
She? Was as crazy as the rest of them!
Maybe not as crazy as Scotty. But close!
"Fit into what." She was marking that one off the list too and getting ready to dial up the next number. Janice didn't consider herself insane. She was simply a very organized woman who happened to be inventive. That's all. "And you should be making calls, sir, not leaning like that. Merely noting, that's all."
At this rate, Janice was considering widening the search area. And she was down to her last sip of coffee left in her cup, too.
"With my friends. We all have our quirks." He winked at her, "We're going to the moon."
"I'm quickly establishing that you fail at keeping track of your girlfriends, and you're friggin' insane. Brav-oh." She paused long enough to golf clap at him, not taking the moon thing seriously, but taking the girlfriend part with the utmost of seriousness. She even got up and walked into the kitchen, grabbing the list and her cellphone. "I also don't have quirks. I'm doing a job."
She dialed again and started talking while making some espresso, talking louder to be heard over the machine, "That's right, immigration. I'm talking loud because I'm on a boat dock and there's some sort of hydraulics system here. Yes. Woman, dark hair, exotic pretty like a Bollywood actress. Yes, we're trying to make sure she knows she's endangering her green card status if she leaves the country, so it's important we try to get ahold of her. Maybe she doesn't understand...excuse me? That's not your business if she should learn English or not, but she knows English already. You haven't seen her? Great. Bite me." She hung up and asked, even louder, "Did you want some espresso?"
"After a performance like that? Yes, I'd like some." He hung up with another false lead, "And I'm serious. We have an engineer building a ship right now. Ever hear of the X-Prize?"
"That prize? Yes, I've heard of it. There's a reason no one's been successful yet, and besides, wasn't that to send a robot to the moon?" She was already started and came back with two perfect little white cuplettes. She sat one in front of him. On a tray, even. With cream, sugar, and a perfectly cut lemon tidbit. How Euro. She sat down behind the desk again and tapped a finger down on a screen, to stop the work timer. Look, off the clock! "Break time. This doesn't count toward the pay. Yes, I keep record of the time. Anyway, Mr. Kirk? You do know that it would be insane to physically go to the moon yourself, don't you? It seems you have enough problems right now, than worrying about collecting a prize on something that is virtually impossible."
"There is a contest also for proving one has real psychic powers and can bend spoons with their mind, but no one's done that either. Are you going to make an attempt at that too?" She might have half smirked, a tiny tug at one corner of her mouth, or it might have been her savoring her espresso. Yes, she'd claim it was that.
"We're one upping the prize. More money that way. You should see what this guy can build." He leaned forward, excitedly, "Someone won the x-prize for an orbiter. Going to the moon is possible, we've done it before. We have better tech, and a genius." He picked up a piece of paper and wrote down a few equations, "I'm not as big a genius as he is, but I understand enough and I pay attention when he talks. See here? This is going to get us there and back."
Janice eyed him with suspicion, equally more so when she looked at the paper. She wasn't a physicist by any means or measure, even if she had great spatial sense thanks to all her past art training. She shook her head at the paper, and then at Jim Kirk in particular.
"I know you're excited about this just from the way you're talking about it. I hate to be a naysayer but you could have a genius and all the supplies to make a space shuttle, only to have something go wrong and die because of it. Is this really wise, when you could just make the attempt with a robot, get your cash prize, and then use that to prove you could do a moon landing with human beings, improving on what you already have? Going in blind, even with a genius, doesn't seem too...bright? I suppose. It sounds like a nightmare to even accomplish." She shrugged a little and took a last sip of her coffee, before saying in a hushed voice, "Besides that, you are looking for someone, sir. And as much as I don't want to say it, I must suggest that...you should be prepared in the event she is not found, does not want to be found, and is not coming back. Her leaving might have been a final statement. We can keep looking, and I encourage you to do so, but it might be better if you're not wearing blinders while going forward."
"Its not worth doing if you don't do it right." Jim nodded his head, his voice, his posture firm, "If I'm not willing to risk my life for something, what's the point? I'm sure as hell not going to ask anyone to do what I won't do."
He fell silent, looking down at his phone, "I won't do a token effort, even if I know it's futile." He smirked, "At least I'll sleep better at night for trying."
She found it easier to stare into her empty espresso cup than look at him or anywhere else, for that matter.
"Yes, I suppose that's a good way of looking at it. Even if I think one thing is insane, and you're reckless for trying it, even if you only went by yourself. And the other thing...well, at least you are aware of where things might stand." Janice put the cup aside and started the timer again. "I'll finish this next page, sir, but after that, you'd better hope you get a tip from the inquiries or the fliers."
"Thanks." He liked the way she called him sir. He liked Sir. He really liked that. He needed to hear it more, "I mean that. I know this is out of your professional zone, but you're putting a lot of effort. And if you want to consider helping organizing supplies for the trip, our computer programmer wrote an amazing piece of software for it."
"That might be an expensive prospect." Truth be told, she always had liked the thought of going into outer space. She imagined colorful nebulae and far off planets, with vivid flowers and strange creatures, and entirely different races. All of which, if she could witness them first-hand, she'd sit down for the rest of her life and happily put them on canvas or commit them to photographs, so she could paint them, later, at her convenience. "If you want to preview the forms, we could perhaps come to an arrangement, at the proper time. I could organize supplies and make sure finances are in order, as well as schedules are kept to. Also you’d need someone to keep records of everything, should you need them, later. You might want to hold off though, until you're sure that you can afford me."
She'd already begin copying out the Form 1's, however.
She even asked, semi-(not really)sweetly as she pushed them across the desk at him, "Do you need me to read them to you, or am I to assume that you're not a brain dead baboon and possess the rudimentary ability to read?"
Pen? Held out to him. She could hold his hand and walk him through it though, if he started to get smart-assy back at her. The minute he took the pen though, she was going to be right back to calling numbers on the to-call-list.
"We've got a budget. Scotty's converting an old submarine to be the main cabin, and he's developing a new drive system." Kirk nodded, holding out his hands for the forms. Did she see that formula? Brain dead?
He shook his head, taking the pen, "I did finally pass elementary last year."
She saw it, but anyone could look at a book and memorize something from it and write it down, trying to impress ladies by making themselves look smart. And Janice? Was one tough nut to crack.
"Congratulations. Your mother's probably beside herself with joy you could at least get the dee plus you needed to make it out of the sixth grade," Janice was saying while she dialed the phone. "Let me know how junior high and high school go. I can get you a list of tutors."
He wasn't even trying to impress her, which is the funniest part!
"Yeah I really need help in biology. Can you get a tutor with big tits?" He grinned, that lopsided sort of smile that means trouble is brewing and he's the tea leaf. Or something. That made more sense in my head.
He took a sip of the espresso and then stared at the cup, "Damn, that's good!"
"Big titted biology tutor coming right up, sir." She was typing already, and once she'd found the appropriate match, she turned a monitor around to show him a hippo disguised as a human. What made it worse, was that it had big tits, but those there were man boobs. And if they tried to use a fork, it'd probably result in the tines being bent askew in different directions, afterward. "Very highly rated from the reviews, just what you asked for." Janice looked smugly pleased, like he might be the tea leaf, but she was the boiling water that was going to be poured onto him and sap the flavor right out. "I believe he might even be a dee cup."
Kirk raised his hands and slowly clapped, "Perfect. Exactly what I was looking for! I love the lipstick and the eyelashes...."
"I think that's just bruising and acne," Janice pointed out, helpfully. The eyelashes? She leaned in and squinted, then supposed there were a few there. Sort of. Maybe they had pulled them out and ate them.
"Plenty for you to hold onto." And she tapped a finger against some of that fine man boob on the monitor. Fun time was over though, because, work! And they should be doing it.
"No, that's definitely blush, see here? I've watched enough women put on makeup to know. And the eyeshadow is really cleverly done."
Yep, he's certainly making it hard to work. She even had to press the pause button on the timer and leaned in, with a sigh, to look at it even closer.
"That's acne. It can't be a woman anyway, the tutor's name is Gregory. And...I think he's got pink eye." Janice made a face like this just kept getting worse and worse.
"Eh, same difference." He shrugged a shoulder, like the hippo being a man was no biggie.
Well she hoped it was no big, because she really would've called him in as a tutor for someone like Kirk. Because, honestly, he struck her as the sort of guy who would need someone like that so he'd actually pay attention.
"Eyeshadow is the same as pink eye?" She sounded like every word was a thumbtack that she was sticking into a corkboard, if that corkboard was his forehead. "I'd better take my makeup back to the department store and start rubbing my eyeballs on public toilet seats."
She did soften her voice down, though, to say mindfully, "We should be making phone calls, Mr. Kirk."
And he'd appreciate the joke. Sighing, he nodded his head, "Yes, we should..."
"Yes, but it's not looking good. We could branch out in case she was thinking of throwing you off her trail. Airports, car rentals, hotel and motels." She couldn't believe she was sort of helping someone that...what if he was a stalker? No, he didn't seem to have that creepy vibe, and she had a pretty good radar for picking up creepy vibes. Self-assured, maybe, but not creepy stalker. He obviously cared for the girl too, so that was at least a point in the plus side in his favor, as far as character reference went. Besides that, she was inwardly curious if they could find her, and Janice liked unraveling mysteries sometimes. Maybe she could work it into her schedule, just shift some off-hours stuff around, to see how this panned out. "It's up to you if you'd like to continue the search. I could perhaps cut you a deal, if you want to work it out during my off hours. Since you don't want to use the police or detectives, like I suggested."
"She wouldn't be thinking that clearly. It would be fleeing." He was certain of this, "They'd just look at me like I was crazy!" He grinned all :DDDD like.
"I can't fathom why she'd be fleeing though. You must be utterly petrifying to deal with, on a daily basis. Or you are really crazy." Janice did not smile back at him, just dialed the phone, gave another spiel and description, and then hung up, shaking her head in the negative at him.
Kirk put his fingers to his lips and lifted them up into a fake smile!
Janice shook her head. No! You can not has!
SMILE!
She was dialing again, and made up some story about a lost Indian woman who was late to her shift at a nail salon where she worked, and might have tried to sail back to India. She supposedly had a lot of money stored in a mattress or something. Still no good. She hung up and put another line through the list, and reached the last number. She eyed him while dialing with a very punchy index finger on them office phone buttons, and then gave a description and said that she was a representative of her family, they'd won twenty million dollars, and there was a prize reward for proof that she'd been in and rented a boat. Yes, it was cash. Yes, they needed actual proof. No? Do not has? She hung up without saying goodbye, turned the chair to face Kirk, stopped the timer, folded both her hands together on the top of the desk, and stared at him.
The stare was like it was his call, what to do next. Because that avenue, captain sir? Was now exhausted.
Kirk? Had devolved to making funny faces, of various contortions and expressions. When she turned to look at him, he had managed to look a lot like that hippo in the picture. Minus the pinkeye.
He feigned an innocent expression, "That's that, then? Maybe she went out of state..."
She didn't want to admit that one corner of her lips had twitched and maybe quirked a little. But that was the best that hippo man contortions was going to get right now. She remained pretty much like that, hands folded on the desk, and nodded that yes, it seemed like that was that.
"We could try the other avenues, or you might want to consider...and I mean just consider...getting some professional help. So, that might be it. I'm willing to keep trying, if you'd like. It's been two days, she's got a significant head start. Driving off aimlessly would be a waste of time and effort. So you can really only hope she calls or writes, or you get a lead from one of those fliers. Otherwise," and here she lowered her voice again, not sure of what else to say, "I'm sorry."
Score! He considered it a victory, albeit small. His face lowered a little bit, but he nodded at her and stood, pulling two fifties out of his pocket, "Thanks for the help." He held them out to her, "I'll think about it tonight and get back to you. Without knowing which direction to sail in I could be lost for months."
"Exactly. It'd be a very unwise move. Especially considering your impending moon trip." She took the money, placing on the desk and sort of feeling a little guilty. She liked successful things and feeling accomplished at the end of the day, not something so...open ended and unresolved. She stood up as well, leaving the money for a moment, to show him to the door. She even held it open for him. "About the other offer? I'll think on that too. Either way, let me know what you decide to do. I'd hate to have put this sort of effort into helping, and not knowing...what comes of it, I suppose." She leveled a steady gaze at him, and said very simply, "Goodnight, Mr. Kirk."
He held out his arms like 'hug'?
Janice stared at his arms like they were made of tentacles and maybe even hentai rape tentacles, like spawn of cthulhu or something. Then she reasoned he had just lost his girlfriend, and he wasn't her client anymore, so she gave him two-point-five seconds of a hug, and let go very quickly afterward.
"Good luck, sir," she said, with a curt nod to him.
"Thanks yeoman, Janice." He nodded, smiled at her, and headed to the car. Where he'd have 5.5 seconds of unmanly moping, before driving off.
She'll know because she maybe peeked out a window and gave him a strange quirky stare from behind a curtain, and then dodged out of sight. After all, she had a martial arts class to get ready for! Heee~yaaaa!