Black

Chapter 2

"And here I was sticking around because I thought I had a chance at him. I hear he likes to smoky-smoky. Angelina goes berserk on his ass because all he wants to do is party hearty."

"I could pretend I have any idea what you're talking about, but I know better."

"What's that noise? A leaf blower? Seagull fight?"

Black turned down the stereo. "There. Better?"

"Are we at the part where you tell me what you want?"

"I wanted to let you know there was an accident en route."

"En route? So we're going to start speaking French to each other now? Like some kind of Euro-trash secret agent code?"

"A fender bender. I'll be a little late."

"I'll alert the media."

"Is that your subtle way of telling me there are no calls?"

"Oh, wait," Roxie said, her voice quickening with excitement, before returning to her usual dry delivery. "Hmm. Never mind. No, no calls. Does that mean I won't get paid this week? I'm starting to worry now that Brad's off the table."

"Brad was never on the table. Come on, Roxie, I've never stiffed you. Relax. Money's in the bank."

"I do the books, remember? The account's emptier than a Kardashian's head."

"Don't worry about it. Something will come up. It always does. I haven't let you down yet."

Roxie let out an exasperated sigh. "Was there something else, Mister En Route Solutions?"

"No, I just wanted to let you know I'd be in soon."

"Did you quit smoking?" she asked, skepticism dripping from every syllable. "Wasn't this the weekend you were going to?"

"Soon. Roxie, why do you always bust my chops? Why can't we ever have a simple, normal interaction?"

"Besides that you're delusional and have a Bogart fetish, you mean?"

"See? That's what I'm talking about. You can never stay on track."

"Hold on. The other line's ringing," she said.

"No, it isn't. I don't hear anything."

"Hmm. Maybe it's going to. I've been thinking I might be psychic."

"You aren't psychic. There's no such thing."

"I so totally knew you were going to say that." Roxie paused dramatically. "Is there anything else?"

"I don't suppose there's any way I could get you to make some coffee, is there?"

"You know I don't drink coffee. It's poison."

"I was thinking more for me, Roxie."

"It's poison for you, too."

"Roxie. Please?"

"Starbucks is just around the corner. Oh, here comes the call!"

"Do you not realize I can hear everything, including that the phone isn't ringing?"

"Pick me up a vente chai."

The line went dead, and Black shook his head as if to clear it. Roxie was brilliant, but hard to deal with when she got her back up, which was early and often. An aspiring singer in an indie art rock band, her instinct was to flout authority, which he more than understood from his youth - but it wasn't so great when it was his ass getting flouted. The problem was that she ran his company, so he had to suck it up and take whatever she was dishing out. Which, today, appeared to be a heaping helping of screw with Black. A regular menu item with her.