The Wrong Room Ch. 02

Surprise!

This is part two of the flash fiction storyThe Wrong Room. (For those of you unfamiliar with the term "flash fiction" it's usually under 2000 words or perhaps 1500 depending on who you talk to...I just wanted to try it out as a writing form).

Thanks for choosing to read another one of my stories, if you're a new reader, welcome. If you are unfamiliar with this story it might be best to go back to the beginning to understand this relationship, but that's your choice. If you like what you read, please check out the rest of my stories on this site. Dreamweaver594...

Mike walked out of the hotel carrying his briefcase and laptop. It was going to be a long day. He'd set up a series of training sessions with this company months ago. Last week was a preliminary meeting to start things rolling and determine who would be part of the training program. He'd worked way into the night getting all his slides in order for today's session. It made him a little groggy when he rolled out of bed this morning, and standing extra long in a hot steamy shower didn't seem to help.

He idly thought of Allison while standing in the shower letting the hot water massaged his neck. He wondered what she might look like standing next to him, hot water streaming down her supple body. He was hoping to see her sometime this week; after all, she did say she owed him, even if it was only for dinner. She had such alluring eyes, and that flaming red hair...magnificent.

Mike signaled to the doorman to hail a cab as he walked through the sliding doors that led to the driveway portico. He stepped to the curb as the cab pulled up. He slid into the back seat and started to pull the door shut. Suddenly someone wrenched the door from his grasp and jumped onto the floorboard in front of him shouting. "Drive, now!"

Mike glanced up as two menacing looking thugs, dressed in ill-fitted black suits, slammed into the window glass shouting obscenities.

The cabby followed his orders and, tires squealing, he pulled out from under the portico at the Hyatt and raced down the block. "Where'm I going lady?" The cabby glanced into his rear view mirror and noticed that his only visible passenger was male. "Oh, sorry, I thought I heard a woman's voice. Where to mister?"

Mike looked out the back window at two huge men standing in the street shaking their fists at the receding cab. "I need to go to the Brock Building on 9th," Mike said still shocked at the sudden intrusion, his brain was still foggy and he wasn't sure what to think. "As for the woman, you'll have to ask her again as soon as she sits up."

The woman crouching on the floorboard climbed up and sat in the seat next to Mike.

Mike blinked. "Allison?"

She quickly turned. "Hi Mike." She blushed crimson red as she dusted off her dress.

"What the hell? Are you okay? What was that all about?"

She calmly lifted her purse off the floorboard and rifled through it for her compact case. "Those guys wanted something from me I wasn't willing to give." She opened it and checked her hair and makeup.

"What?"

She smiled that same beautiful smile he remembered the first night he met her. "My life, sweetie." She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "I owe Tony Gleason a few bucks and he sent those goons over to collect."

"Tony Gleason is the local loan shark slash wise guy," said the cabby in a thick Turkish accent. He chuckled as he negotiated through the busy streets towards the Brock Building. "It's best not to get mixed up with him if you value your life."

"Of which I do," Allison replied as she closed her compact with a snap and slipped it into her purse. "But I didn't have much choice, I needed things."

Mike sighed. "How much do you owe him?"

"A grand."

The cabby whistled and shook his head. "He'd kill his own mother for a grand."

"I only wanted a couple of hundred bucks but he wouldn't give me a loan for less than a grand. He said small loans were bad for business."

The cabby glanced in the rear view mirror. "How much interest?"

"40 percent."

"Shit," Mike said exasperated, "that's 1400 dollars."

"Yeah, that was yesterday, today might be more," she said shrugging her shoulders.

"Can you talk to him? Maybe you can negotiate a deal," Mike said hopefully.

"Tony don't negotiate," the cabby said shaking his head. "With him it's either pay up or, as they say on the Sopranos, you sleep with the fish."

Mike glanced at the driver's ID pasted in a placard on the back of the driver's seat. It read: Yusuf Stanos. He looked at Allison. "Do they know where you live?"

"Of course."

Mike thought for a moment. "Okay, change of plans. How far is Nordstrom's from the Brock Building on 9th?"

"Not far, it's on 10th," the cabby replied.

"Great," Mike said, "drop us there."

Allison looked from the cabby to Mike. "Why?"

"Because you can't play the part of my assistant dressed like this," Mike replied as he rummaged through his brief case. She was wearing a rather low-cut red sequined dress that displayed her ample cleavage and slender long legs. Combined with a pair of red spiked heels and her flaming red hair, it was alluring but was hardly adequate attire for where he was going.

Allison sat dumbfounded.

Mike pulled out his cellphone and tapped the screen. "Hello, Dave Bolton, please."

The cab pulled up into the loading area in front of Nordstrom's. The driver twisted around in his seat and grinned at Allison. "This might be your lucky day, little one, or his worst. It all depends on you."

Allison smiled demurely and followed Mike out to the curb.

"Just a minute Dave," Mike said as he leaned into through the cab window. "How much?"

"Eight seventy-five," the cabby said with a grin. "The advice was free."

Mike muffled his cellphone against his chest and handed the cabby a fifty. "We were never here," he said with a wink.

The cabby nodded and handed him his card. "Call me if you need another ride. I'd like to know how this all plays out."

Mike took his card, tapped the roof twice, and the cab pulled away to merge with the traffic on the busy street.

An hour later, Mike and Allison walked into the Brock Building and pressed the twelfth floor button on the elevator. The doors closed silently and they stood alone for the first time since she dashed into his cab. She was dressed in an exquisitely tailored grey business suit with a knee length pencil skirt and a pair of black three-inch pumps. On her head she wore a smartly styled brunette wig that shaped and enhanced her feminine face.

"You look very nice," he murmured softly.

"Thank you," she said smoothing a seam in her skirt. "This must have cost a bundle."

Mike shrugged his shoulders. "Business expense." They both fell silent again; tension seemed to fill the tiny space. The elevator chimed and the doors opened on the twelfth floor. Mike took her arm and steered her towards a set of glass doors at the end of the hallway.

"I should have trimmed my nails," she muttered as they walked briskly down the corridor.

"No time. Okay, once we get in there just sit quietly, and look pretty, which for you should be easy, you look stunning in that suit."

Allison smiled demurely and gave him a tiny air kiss.

He pushed open one of the glass doors and led Allison through it. "I have to do a presentation on the software I'm installing on their system; it should only take a few hours, if all goes well. After that, we'll do lunch and come up with a plan to get Gleason off your back."

Allison nodded wide-eyed as they passed through the glass doors and into the law offices of Brock, Babson, and Tonnelly, L.L.C. One of the largest law firms in the region.

It ended up being over four hours before they could finally break away and get some lunch. They arrived at a little deli Mike found on 10th.

"I'm famished," she said looking up at the menu board behind the counter.

Mike nodded. "Me too." He glanced sideways at her. "You know, you totally surprised me today, I never expected you to step in and help those guys with their programming."

"Ha," she replied with a grin. "I was a total gamer-freak in high school before I transitioned. I even created a couple of my own games. This stuff today was a walk in the park."

They ordered and sat down to wait for their meal.

"Beauty and brains, an amazing combination," Mike murmured.

"It can be lethal when mixed with no street smarts," she murmured back.

"Were you staying in the Hyatt when they were chasing you?"

"No," she shook her head, "I just ran through the lobby hoping I could lose them. Hell, I didn't even know it was you until I looked up from the floorboard of that cab."

"Oh. Okay, that will work then. We can stay in my room tonight; they won't be looking for you there."

"Mike," she paused, her eyes glistening. "Why are you doing this? You could get in big trouble helping me. Don't get me wrong, I really appreciate it but why stick your neck out for someone you barely know?"

Mike grinned and reached over to take her hand. "Hey, you owe me, remember? How can I collect on that dinner if you're dead?"

Allison smiled, stood up and leaned over to kiss him. Then she walked to the counter and retrieved their lunch.

After lunch Mike pulled out his cellphone and the business card the cabby gave him earlier. "Hey Yusuf, you got a fare or do you have time to run a few errands?"

The cabby cleared his throat. "Who's this?"

"Your fifty dollar tip from this morning," Mike replied winking at Allison.

"Oh, yeah, where are you?"

"10th and Beal Street...Morty's Deli."

"Got it. I'm at the airport now, I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

Mike dropped his phone in his pocket and got up. He took Allison's hand. "Come on, let's go."

"Shouldn't we wait for him here?"

"If Yusuf shows up alone we're good, if not, we'll disappear." Allison looked at him quizzically. "Sopranos, third season." She nodded and they walked across the street. They ducked into a shadowed alcove and waited.

Fifteen minutes later, a yellow cab pulled up outside Morty's Deli and Yusuf walked inside. Mike and Allison glanced around but none of Gleason's goons were anywhere in sight. Then they quickly crossed the street and slipped into the cab's backseat as Yusuf came out of the deli. He nodded at Mike and sat in behind the wheel. "Where to boss?"

"Find me a Wal-Mart in the burbs somewhere," Mike replied. "We have to make a phone call that can't be traced." Yusuf nodded and the cab sped away.

The author copyrights this chapter, as well as any future chapters of this series. The reproduction of any chapter or part of any chapter ofThe Wrong Room without the written permission of the author is expressly prohibited. This story is a work of fiction. All of the characters, their names and the places that they visit, are purely from the imagination of the author. Any resemblance to persons, places, or things is not intentional and purely coincidental.