Page 113 of Flirtasaurus
“Oh damn, you weren’t kidding,” she says once she wraps her arms around him. “What a stud.”
“Ralph, this is my best friend, Sasha. Sasha, this is… Ralph.”
“Nice to meet you, big guy,” Sasha says.
Ralph laughs. “You too, Sasha.”
She’s still clinging to him.
“Alright, girlfriend. Keep it together now,” I say as I jokingly guide them apart.
“Ladies and gentlemen? We’re about to begin.”
Looking up, I see Dr. Knowles standing in the front of the room with several of the other higher-ups, including Ralph’s astronomy mentor, Dr. Abrams.
“Let’s, um,” I whisper to Sasha, “let’s just pull over to this side, okay?”
I drag Sasha and me a few feet away from Ralph in an effort to seem cool and unaffected by him in front of my superiors. It’s overkill, I know, but I want to tell them in my own way instead of them finding out on their own and thinking I was keeping things from them, which—let’s be real—I have been.
I look over at Ralph, and he just shakes his head and smiles good-naturedly, like he thinks I’m being ridiculous. He’s right. I am.
Dr. Knowles continues. “Thank you to everyone for assembling here today and for all you’ve already done to make our gala a huge success. In particular, and perhaps a bit selfishly, I’d like to specifically thank my Trix and Monty team. It’s been an incredible ride so far, and I cannot wait to share our two beauties with the world.”
Bruce, Damon, and Lionel are all standing close by, and we share a quick smile. Those dudes have really grown on me. Even Bruce. Well, a little. Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves here.
“We have many topics to cover today, but we’ll try to get things wrapped up as soon as possible so you can enjoy the rest of your afternoon and evening. We have a representative from each department who will take focus for a few minutes to get us all on the same page regarding protocol for next Saturday night. First up is Mr. Frank Birch from security. Mr. Birch, could you join us in the front of the room?”
“Sure thing, Eileen!” A tiny bald man with a semblance of a handlebar mustache trots up in front of the assembled group.
“Hi, y'all!” he says cheerily. “I’m not from the South. Don’t quite know why I slip into y'alls sometimes. Not a big fan of public speaking, I guess. Makes me a little nervous, I suppose. Did you know that fear of public speaking is right up there with death and closed spaces and killer bugs when it comes to the most common phobias we humans have? But why should we be so afraid to speak our minds in front of our fellow Homo sapiens, huh? To expose what makes us vulnerable and the same? Don’t you wish we could come together more in some sorta, I dunno, harmony? I mean, we’re so divided these days, and—”
“Mr. Birch, I was told you have an update on our new security system?”
“Oh, yes, sure. Sorry. I felt like this was my moment to use my platform for good. You know, like how all those liberal Hollywood actors always seem to be doing at award shows?”
“I see. Well, maybe now actually isn’t the best time for that,” she says kindly.
“Alright, then. No harm, no foul. So. Everybody, listen up! As I think you all know, those two deeno skeletons over there cost this museum a pretty penny, and there was a not too friendly bidding war at the ole auction on the road to bringing ’em here. That said, we needed to take additional measures to ensure their security and the security of the museum, both leading up to the gala and on the night of the big event.”
Sasha gives me a look like this is the most boring staff meeting she’s ever attended. I can’t argue with her on that. I’m about to nod off myself, though, little do both of us know that it’s about to get a hell of a lot more lively.
“So! We installed some security cameras in this here new wing on Friday night, and we were doing some sporadic preliminary tests throughout the weekend. If you look right above us here, you see that flat little square on the ceiling?”
The entire group looks up. It must be time to get my eyes checked, though, because I don’t see a darn thing.
“You see it there? Blends in with the ceiling a bit? Well, anyway, that’s some state of the art shit right there. Excuse me. That’s some state of the art crap right there. That little guy does the work of ten lesser cameras. It’s shooting in every angle imaginable right now. So, on the night of the gala, we won’t have to worry too much about folks wanting to do harm to ole Dicks and Mounty here.”
“It's, uh… It’s Trix and Monty, Mr. Birch,” Dr. Knowles gently corrects.
“Ah, alright. Ole Trix and Monty. Just to give you all some peace of mind, I wanna take a minute to show ya a live cam of what’s being recorded right now. Get ready… it’s your thirty seconds of fame, friends!”
He presses a button and a huge image projects on the bright white walls. It’s blurry, though, so it’s hard to tell what we’re looking at.
“Arh. Still working out the kinks. Lemme get this thing focused, and we’ll see what we’re—”
“Ohhhh.”
What the hell was that? Was that a moan?
