Page 49 of The Tracker's Revenge
“So you’re dumping me?” she said as we stepped onto the sidewalk.
“No, I’m not dumping you, but this is important and—”
“Oh, and Liliana being dead, and the fact that my neighborhood is turning into murder city isn’t?”
“I didn’t mean that. Look, if you have time, you can wait across the street in the coffee shop and as soon as I’m done here I’ll come find you and go to the police station with you. Does that sound good?”
She blew air through her nose. “How long is it going to take?”
“I don’t know exactly, but normally no more than an hour.”
“An hour?! I’ve got things to do too, you know?”
“I’m sure you do. If you can’t wait, we can meet at the police station later this afternoon or tomorrow.”
A crease appeared on her forehead. “No. I’ll wait.” She looked me up and down with narrowed eyes as if she suspected I was trying to give her the run-around.
“Good. See you in a bit.” I didn’t wait for an answer and simply turned on my heel and went back inside. The sweet tang of Em’s perfume hit me all over again. Man, someone needed to tell her to go easy with the spritzes. It was all I could smell.
“Here is Toni,” Rosalina said in a cheerful tone. “Ms. Graves was just telling me about how happy she is for Celina and Vincent.”
I extended a hand in the woman’s direction. “Nice to meet you. My name is Antonietta Sunder, but you can call me Toni.”
“Mekare Graves,” she said as she shook my hand.
“Nice to meet you, Ms. Graves.”
She batted the air. “Oh, you can call me Mekare.” She had a pleasant smile that made me at ease. “Yes, I was telling your partner how delighted I am to see Celina happy. She had such a rough time with men before. Same as me, I’m afraid.” She sighed wistfully as if remembering regretful things from past relationships.
“We’re so happy for her, too. And for Vincent, of course,” I said.
“At any rate, I got a little jealous of my friend.” Mekare laughed with self-deprecating humor. “And I thought to myself... Well,there’s no reason you can’t find happiness, Mekare. Get your ass over to that agency before you become worm food.”
“We’re very glad you came,” Rosalina said as she pulled a prepackaged folder from a cabinet and handed it to me. It included a brochure, a contract, and all the relevant information about our service. This folder in particular had a blue tab attached to it, which meant the price listed on the contract was the one we offered to our high-end customers.
I took the folder and gestured with it toward my office. “Why don’t you step this way and we can talk more about it? I will be delighted to help you and get started today if you feel ready.”
“I feel ready, all right.” Mekare stood up without hesitation and followed me.
Once we were seated comfortably, I pulled out the glossy brochure and pushed it across the desk in Mekare’s direction. “This briefly explains—”
She waved both hands at the brochure. “Oh, honey, I don’t need that. Watching Celina, I know everything I need to know about what you do here, so sign me up.”
I almost choked. It couldn’t be that easy. A thorough sales pitch and, sometimes, backward gymnastics were necessary to get people to sign the dotted line. I’d never had someone so willing to let us help them. It was like getting ready to remove the onions from your burger and finding it didn’t have any.
“Well,” I said a bit nervously, my hands hovering over the contents of the folder. I blinked a few times before I thought to pull out the contract and offered it to Mekare. “Here is our contract. It lists the fee for our service. Deposit and final payment after we successfully find a mate. It also lists what can be expected in terms of time, what is needed in order to perform a tracking, as well as our cancellation policy.”
Her eyes went over the contract, skimming quickly through every item. I watched in silence, twisting my hands under the desk, one of my knees bouncing up and down. If she signed, we would be able to breathe easily for another month.
After a quick moment, Mekare looked up from the contract. I stopped wringing my hands and bouncing my knee and smiled.
“Everything looks in order,” she said, no mention of the amount of money required for deposit or the final cost.
Witchlights, I love rich people!Not that our services weren’t worth their weight in gold.
She sighed. “I’ll have to take this to my lawyer, though.” She folded the piece of paper and stuffed it in her purse.
I nearly slumped over the desk and cried. Of course, she hadn’t balked at the price. She had decided she didn’t want to hire us after all.
