Chapter 4: Office Politics
‘Scott and Malone Investigations’ was located on the tenth floor of a generic skyscraper on the edge of the Dusk District that rented office spaces out to small businesses. Bill was the security guard behind the lobby desk that particular evening and he didn’t even glance up as Maria entered, setting off the shrill chime of the Talent sensors.
“Evening Bill.” She nodded to him as she crossed the spacious black-marbled lobby towards the elevator.
“Evening Ms. Malone.” He said in his gruff, wheezy voice. He was reading the evening paper, and Maria got a look at the headline before reaching the elevator. Senator Reinhardt’s toothy grin was slapped across the page, along with the superimposed headline: ‘A Dusker for President; Is America ready for Nocturnal Leadership?’
Maria stood in front of the elevator doors as the numbers slowly counted down from twenty-five to one, waiting for the little bell to ‘ding’ as she sipped her latte. The elevators in the building were old and creaky and broke down frequently, and normally Maria would have taken the stairs. But it was Monday, she had finished up her cases yesterday morning, and she just wanted to get in, sit in the office for ten minutes, eat some breakfast, grab her paycheck and head back out into the night.
By the time the elevator had creaked and squeaked up to the tenth floor, Maria was certain she was late, at least by Keith’s standards, where anything more than five minutes after Nine PM was late. She didn’t fret over the lateness in the least; just continued sipping her latte and watching the little green numbers slowly count up to ten.
‘Scott and Malone Investigations’ was at the very end of the tenth floor hallway. No-one really looked after this floor; there were damp patches on the ceiling and cracks spidering across the walls. Most of the doors were locked, their knobs caked with dust and cobwebs, save the single door at the end of the hallway that bore the legend ‘S&M Investigations’ in gold-painted letters. Maria used the edge of her coat-sleeve to turn the dusty knob of the door, which creaked on rusty hinges as it swung open.
The interior of the office space wasn’t much to look at either. The reception area was dimly lit and cramped, with barely enough room for a small desk and a coat rack, which were off to the left of the entrance. Maria hung her coat up on one of the thin wooden pegs and leaned the axe up against the wall next to it. The blade of the weapon glinted slightly, even though there were no lights bright enough to reflect off of it.
Helen was sitting behind her desk, chewing a piece of gum and filing one of her fingernails while gazing at the screen of her computer, her face a mask of utter boredom.
Morning Helen.” Maria said, walking past the desk towards the door on the other side of the cramped little room.
“Morning Ms. Malone!” the blonde secretary chirped, her attitude suddenly less apathetic. “Better hurry on in, Mister Scott is having one of his days.”
“Every day is one of his days, Helen.” Maria said, turning the doorknob without the aid of her coat-sleeve and entering the office she shared with her partner.
This room was also small, but the sparse furnishing and high ceiling gave it a spacious feel. The two desks faced each other on opposite sides of the room; one to the left of the door, one to the right. A floor lamp shone in the furthest left corner, but it did little to brighten the room. A large window looked out onto the city, which sparkled with the electric lights of the evening. Next to the window was a small refrigerator stacked high with snack foods and utensils. The fridge was underneath a rickety table, atop which a small television was currently showing the evening news. Keith Scott was sitting at his desk to the left of the door in a recumbent position, watching the small screen and munching on a bagel. He looked up disapprovingly at the old wall clock that hung above the door as Maria walked in unconcernedly and threw her backpack down beside her own desk.
“Mornin’ Keith.” She said, ignoring his mild glare.
“Maria.” He said politely, turning back to the television.
“Sleep well?” she asked, a smirk crossing her face.
“Same as usual.” He shrugged.
Maria snorted. “Glue yourself to the desk again with drool, did you?” she asked.
Keith rolled his eyes. “I was working on the Peterson Case, I’ll have you know.” He said, glaring at his partner, who was unapologetically raiding the fridge. “You should have been here helping out; I could have used your input.”
“Sunrise Keithie.” She shrugged, pulling out a packet of bacon and a jar of something red that was not ketchup. “Sometimes the fucking Dawn Patrol closes the sewer lines over on my side of town, cutting off my only day route home, and the last thing I want is to be stuck here or in the underground network for twelve hours.” She put the bacon in a small microwave that sat next to the TV. “Besides, unlike you, I have a life outside this office and this job.”
Keith rolled his eyes. “You call sleeping and going to wild parties a life?”
Maria shrugged. “More of a life than falling asleep at a desk and lusting after my hot secretary.” Her smirk widened.
Keith colored slightly, but his eyes narrowed. “I keep out of your mind; I’d appreciate it if you would extend me the same courtesy.”
Maria snorted. “Please!” she exclaimed as the microwave ‘dinged’ and she pulled out the plate of warm – but not really cooked – bacon. “I don’t have to read your mind to know you want her. I can smell your desire to fuck Helen from a mile away.” She unscrewed the lid of the little jar and began to spread the dark red liquid on the bacon. “Chances are she can smell it too, at least when the moon is waxing.”
“My personal life is none of your business Maria.” Keith scowled. “Whomever I wish to ‘fuck’ as you so aptly phrased it, is the concern of myself and the woman in question.”
“Okay! Don’t get your fuckin’ panties in a bunch!” Maria opened the fridge again and pulled out a bottle of dark red liquid of the same hue and consistency of the spread she had slathered her bacon with.
“Then stop accusing me of having lewd thoughts about Helen!” Keith said, digging a crumpled packet of cigarettes out of his back pocket and removing two of the little cylindrical items from the carton. “Cigarette?” he asked.
“If you don’t mind,” Maria said, sitting down at her desk, plate of bacon and bottle in hand. “I’m close to broke until payday and I could use a good smoke.”
Keith waved a hand and the cigarette floated across the room to his partner’s desk. “Poser.” She said, plucking the cigarette out of the air and lighting it with a match.
“Bitch.” Keith responded in a good-natured tone, lighting his own cigarette.
“So,” Maria placed her cigarette daintily on the edge of the glass ashtray on her desk and began eating her bacon with her fingers. “What’s on the cards for tonight chief?”
“I have a client coming in at Midnight with a case request.” He said. “Other than that, just wrapping up old cases and filing.”
Maria sighed. “My favorite.” She said sarcastically. “Who’s the client?”
“Reginald Shoreditch.” Keith said. “Recent arrival in town from Europe, professor of Necromancy at Bay M.U., claims to be having some trouble with students.”
“So why does he call us and not the Dusk Patrol?” she asked.
“I think he wants to keep it on the down-low.” He replied. “But I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”
Maria nodded and looked up as the door opened. It was Helen, who glared at the two of them and their cigarettes disapprovingly. “I’ve asked you two before, and I’ll ask again; can you please open a window if you insist on killing yourselves and each other faster?”
Keith pointed at the windows, which swung open, letting the cool night air in and the hanging cloud of smoke out. “Happy now?” he said, rolling his eyes.
“Makes no difference to me if we smoke,” Maria said, opening up the bottle of red liquid. “I’m technically already dead.”
Helen sighed impatiently, but perked up as she saw Maria’s breakfast. “Is that fresh bacon?” she asked.
Maria nodded, holding out the plate. “It is indeed. Want a little pig for breakfast?”
Helen laughed. “You know I can’t say no when it comes to pork.” She took a piece off of the plate and snapped it down in one bite. She smiled. “How’s your cousin doing?” the young werewolf asked Maria. “I saw him on a cat litter commercial the other day.”
“Well, he’s certainly content to remain a cat if that’s what you mean.” Maria said, sipping at the red liquid in the bottle. Her eyes momentarily flashed red and she sighed softly as she drank. “Suits me; he takes up less space that way.”
Helen was about to respond when her eyes lit up and she stared eagerly at the television, which had just chimed the tones of the news hour. “Ooh! An update on the election!” she squealed eagerly.
All three of them turned to the television and listened to the anchorman give his report:
“And in today’s election news, Senator Jeffery Reinhardt, the Democratic representative from California, won the primary votes tonight in Nebraska, Wisconsin and Ohio, making him the clear frontrunner in the race for the Democratic nomination for President. The Senator is making huge waves all across the country with his platforms of increasing Nocturnal Integration and reducing standard stereotypes, and we find ourselves asking America if it is truly ready for the first Nocturnal President?-”
The television suddenly clicked off. Maria and Helen looked around in confusion, and then saw Keith lower his hand and go back to his paperwork.
“Why’d you turn it off boss?” Helen asked. “It was about Senator Reinhardt.”
“That’s why I turned it off.” He said, not looking up at her. “I don’t need to hear another stupid interview about everyone getting so excited about having a vampire run for president. Who honestly gives a shit?”
Helen scowled. “I do.” She said, her voice filled with injury. “And you should too boss. Reinhardt is going to make the integration laws even better. He’s going to try and cut down on even the segregation that happens by proxy. He’s going to get us better medical and better wages. He’s going to make America a better place for people like us!”
“I’m perfectly content with the America I’m living in.” Keith said. “I don’t think we need to change anything up when we’re all living comfortably in our niche in this society.”
“And what niche is that exactly?” Helen said, her hands twitching angrily. “A part-time secretary job at a pitiful excuse for an Investigation agency, an apartment the size of a cardboard box, tens of thousands of dollars in student loans I have to pay off, thousands more than any Dawner would have to pay, and having to take three days off a month despite having not had an episode for over six months! Does that seem like an ideal niche to you?”
Keith shrugged. “I’m more than content with what I’ve got.” He said.
“That’s because you can easily pass for Human!” Helen yelled, and then stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
Maria, who had been silent throughout this entire exchange, finished her cigarette, stubbed it out, then looked up at her disgruntled partner. “She’s right you know.” She said.
“Shut up.” Keith growled.
“You’re a real prick you know.”
“Shut. Up. Maria.” He growled again.
“This does mean you’ll never get to do the horizontal mambo with her, you do recognize that right?”
“Shut up before I spike your pig’s blood with garlic juice.” He shot back.
Maria rolled her eyes, sipped her drink and looked up at him across the room, smiling a toothy smile that dripped with blood. Her elongated canines glistened menacingly, and as she spoke she hissed a little. “I’d love to see you try Keithie.” She grinned. “I’d love to see you try.”
*
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