out of my hand, then bolted. She left poor Mr. Briggs wiping his forehead and demanding he be allowed to talk to his lawyer. I ignored him. Steve could take care of him. Ms. Sims was right. Something did smell. Her exotic dill weed perfume lingered in the air.
I jammed after her.
This was one takedown I was going to enjoy.
* * *
Ms. Sims had the advantage. No one knew why she was running. She could be headed to the bathroom to toss up the fried squid kebabs. Or reapply her demon-red lipstick. She also hadn’t downed three dirty martinis and she was used to maneuvering the corporate world in sky-high heels. I wasn’t. That didn’t stop me. I sprinted through the devil’s lair like a regular speed freak, my arms flailing about like I was a roller derby queen.
Nothing could stop me.
Until—
A trio of businessmen blocked my way. They were trying to look up a model’s skirt when she bent over to pick up her earring.
“ Excuse me , excuse me ,” I busted out, knocking off a Japanese businessman’s glasses when I zinged past him. Then I slammed into a waiter carrying a tray of empty plastic champagne flutes. Down we went like dominos. I heard the loud crunch of plastic under my butt as I landed.
Ouch.
Huffing and puffing, pulse racing, I yanked off my silver-heeled kicks and then got to my feet and took off. I ran out into the hallway and looked up and down, but Ms. Sims had disappeared.
Damn.
I figured she was hiding in the bathroom, when—
There she was. Heading toward the exit. Two purple potted palms stood on either side of the private elevator.
I took off, my bare feet gliding over the plush plum carpeting so fast I was almost airborne. I was determined to grab her before she got into the elevator.
“ Stop , FBI! ” I shouted out. I have no idea where my courage came from to falsely identify myself as a fed, but it seemed like a good idea. I opened my purse and pulled out an expired department store credit card and flashed it under the overhead light.
Gold, it wasn’t.
Tarnished pewter, maybe.
Like my ass, if I didn’t make the collar. Talk about being in the moment, as Cindy would say. Anyway, Ms. Sims turned around and saw my feeble attempt at pulling this off.
She threw back her head and laughed. “You gotta be kidding me.”
“No joke, Ms. Sims,” I said, so close to her I could smell her revolting perfume. “I—I’m with the FBI.”
Technically, I wasn’t lying. I was with the feds, but I wasn’t one of them. Yet I had sense of belonging, knowing I’d helped them get the dirt on these two. I knew now Ms. Sims was the instigator and poor Mr. Briggs was her patsy. His kingdom for a lay. Why did men always fall for that stunt?
What mattered most to me was that I didn’t give up. Didn’t let my fears sidetrack me. I could do this. I got a funny chill then. A strange sense this was what Steve wanted me to feel, that I had the moxie to make it as a federal agent.
I soon discovered it wasn’t all about flashing a badge and giving a shout out.
The doors opened and Ms. Sims raced into the elevator all smiles and then pushed over a potted plant to block me from following her. Dirt flew everywhere.
“I always said you were dirt under my feet.” She jabbed the elevator buttons to make the doors close.
“You won’t sweep me away that easily,” I shot back, and then I shoved my bod through the doors seconds before they closed on my boobs.
Ms. Sims was one angry conspirator.
She smashed her palm into my face and then pulled my hair. I refused to let her petty chick move throw me off balance. I kicked her in the shin. She yelped, but that didn’t stop her. She ripped off the pin attached to the front of my low-cut dress with her claws, scratching my shoulder and making me wince.
Oh , yeah? No one takes my decoder pin .
I grabbed her wrist and squeezed hard until she dropped it. She yanked on my exposed bra strap. It broke and my breast fell out of my C-cup.
What the hell?
I
I jammed after her.
This was one takedown I was going to enjoy.
* * *
Ms. Sims had the advantage. No one knew why she was running. She could be headed to the bathroom to toss up the fried squid kebabs. Or reapply her demon-red lipstick. She also hadn’t downed three dirty martinis and she was used to maneuvering the corporate world in sky-high heels. I wasn’t. That didn’t stop me. I sprinted through the devil’s lair like a regular speed freak, my arms flailing about like I was a roller derby queen.
Nothing could stop me.
Until—
A trio of businessmen blocked my way. They were trying to look up a model’s skirt when she bent over to pick up her earring.
“ Excuse me , excuse me ,” I busted out, knocking off a Japanese businessman’s glasses when I zinged past him. Then I slammed into a waiter carrying a tray of empty plastic champagne flutes. Down we went like dominos. I heard the loud crunch of plastic under my butt as I landed.
Ouch.
Huffing and puffing, pulse racing, I yanked off my silver-heeled kicks and then got to my feet and took off. I ran out into the hallway and looked up and down, but Ms. Sims had disappeared.
Damn.
I figured she was hiding in the bathroom, when—
There she was. Heading toward the exit. Two purple potted palms stood on either side of the private elevator.
I took off, my bare feet gliding over the plush plum carpeting so fast I was almost airborne. I was determined to grab her before she got into the elevator.
“ Stop , FBI! ” I shouted out. I have no idea where my courage came from to falsely identify myself as a fed, but it seemed like a good idea. I opened my purse and pulled out an expired department store credit card and flashed it under the overhead light.
Gold, it wasn’t.
Tarnished pewter, maybe.
Like my ass, if I didn’t make the collar. Talk about being in the moment, as Cindy would say. Anyway, Ms. Sims turned around and saw my feeble attempt at pulling this off.
She threw back her head and laughed. “You gotta be kidding me.”
“No joke, Ms. Sims,” I said, so close to her I could smell her revolting perfume. “I—I’m with the FBI.”
Technically, I wasn’t lying. I was with the feds, but I wasn’t one of them. Yet I had sense of belonging, knowing I’d helped them get the dirt on these two. I knew now Ms. Sims was the instigator and poor Mr. Briggs was her patsy. His kingdom for a lay. Why did men always fall for that stunt?
What mattered most to me was that I didn’t give up. Didn’t let my fears sidetrack me. I could do this. I got a funny chill then. A strange sense this was what Steve wanted me to feel, that I had the moxie to make it as a federal agent.
I soon discovered it wasn’t all about flashing a badge and giving a shout out.
The doors opened and Ms. Sims raced into the elevator all smiles and then pushed over a potted plant to block me from following her. Dirt flew everywhere.
“I always said you were dirt under my feet.” She jabbed the elevator buttons to make the doors close.
“You won’t sweep me away that easily,” I shot back, and then I shoved my bod through the doors seconds before they closed on my boobs.
Ms. Sims was one angry conspirator.
She smashed her palm into my face and then pulled my hair. I refused to let her petty chick move throw me off balance. I kicked her in the shin. She yelped, but that didn’t stop her. She ripped off the pin attached to the front of my low-cut dress with her claws, scratching my shoulder and making me wince.
Oh , yeah? No one takes my decoder pin .
I grabbed her wrist and squeezed hard until she dropped it. She yanked on my exposed bra strap. It broke and my breast fell out of my C-cup.
What the hell?
I
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