"Mr. Hamilton, I must urge you refrain from bringing up the," her face screws up in distaste as she searches for the right wording, "incident last year," the woman with him suggests strongly.
"Forgive her," he tells me. "Mrs. Wells is always looking after my best interests," he dips his head familiarly like we're sharing a secret. It's hard to wrap my mind around this man being the same one who had my bosses running around in fear for their jobs and the guys out for blood. Still, I know all too well how someone can show the world one face and hide another behind closed doors.
I merely nod politely and plaster on my customer service smile, having no clue what to say in this awkward moment. The back of my neck is sweating and I barely resist the urge to wipe it away. "How may I help you?"
"I'd like to make a withdrawal if you don't mind. A hundred dollars should do it."
"That shouldn't be a problem. Do you have your id with you sir and do you have a preference on the denominations of the bills?"
It feels silly asking for his id, but James was adamant that we do this by the book so I do it anyway. Either he had a professional take his headshot and slap it on or the man just doesn't take a bad photo. After quickly scanning over the details, I pass his id back and begin typing in his information. His account is locked.
"James," I wave him over. "I'll need you to override so that I can't help Mr. Hamilton with his accounts."
As he quickly types in his passcode he explains the necessity to Mr. Hamilton who just nods, humming agreements when needed. It's a bit like a parent listening intently as their toddler babbles a very important nonsense story. I stifle a snort at the visual. Mr. Hamilton's eyes twinkle as he notices my amusement.
James backs away reluctantly and rejoins Mr. Hamilton's associates. His eyes stare daggers in me from over Hamilton's shoulders and I duck my head to the screen to avoid his pointed scrutiny.
My hands hover the keys as I read the screen once, twice, and third time. Each time the balance remains the same, twenty-five dollars and once cent. I must've made a mistake somewhere. I double check to make sure I have the right Mr. Hamilton despite the evidence pointing out that I do. "Could I see your id again sir?"
He hands it over again, but that easy going smile starts to slip from his face. It doesn't travel all the way up to his eyes anymore. "Is there a problem Ms. Danvers?"
"It's probably just a mistake on my part," I stammer out. "I must have pulled up the wrong Damien Hamilton," I explain as I frantically look over the details and find they match. Every. Single. One.
"James," my voice breaks as I widen my eyes at him and he comes racing over, all but shoving me out of the way when he sees the same thing I do.
"No, no, no," he hisses under his breath as he types and retypes in Mr. Hamilton's accounts.
"Is there a problem." It's no longer a question, but a demand for answers as Mr. Hamilton's previously jovial face turns flinty and hard as he takes in the panic on James and I's face.
Nicole has turned my way and is trying to gather information through eyebrows and mouthed questions. All I can give her is wide eyes and shakes. I have no idea what is going on and I'm currently having an internal freak out playing out across my face. Damn them for not filling me in on the full plan.
"Um, there seems to be an issue with," I start to explain before James cuts me off.
"I'm sure it's just some error in the system," James grits out between his teeth while his eyes promise retribution if I finish that sentence.
"What kind of error?"
"Accounting," James admits.
"Show me," Hamilton commands.
"I really think this would be better discussed in my office sir. It appears to be a delicate matter," James whispers.
"Show me. I don't want to have to repeat myself Mr. Hughes."
James gulps and tugs at the collar of his shirt. "Certainly sir," he dips his head in acquiescence. He blinks and swallows before he turns the monitor to show him the balance. A single cent above the minimum we require to open an account.
"Pull up my wife's account."
"Sir-," James starts.
"I know the damn protocol. I'm an authorized user and I put all the money in it. Pull up my wife's account Hughes."
At this point Wells and the other man are pressing closer, clearly picking up on the situation and having a hurried discussion between themselves.
"Damien it might be prudent to take this somewhere," he pauses after a pointed look around the sparsely populated lobby. "Quieter," the other man says.
"Fine. Wells and Kento, I don't want anyone leaving until this is sorted out. Understood?"
"Yes sir," they respond.
Mr. Hamilton follows behind a sweating, fidgeting James to his office where even the distance does little to hide the harsh slam of the door.
"What was that? Are you okay?" Nicole rushes to my side.
"I have no clue and I have a feeling I'm not supposed to talk about it," I tell her quickly when the woman, Wells comes toward my window.
"Ms. Danvers, I'm sure I don't have to remind you that sharing a member's details is a fireable offense as well as a litigious one." She may be smiling, but it's a shark's smile full of teeth ready to chomp down at a moment's notice.
"No worries. Just a coworker checking in on me. Nothing to worry about," I assure her.
"I'm sure," she continues to watch me like a hawk as her partner surveys the lobby, discreetly making his way over to our new security guard and whispering something into his ear. Whatever it is causes him to sit up straighter and watch the doors a little bit sharper.
"What was that all about? Did his wife spend too much on a shopping trip?" Jaxson jokes with Nate. It's so at odds from the way he normally talks. He sounds like some ordinary frat guy that I see way too much of out and about at the bars on the weekend. It may be an act, but he wears it so well, only someone who knows what lies beneath could see the edges.
"Beats me, man. It's above my paygrade," he shrugs. He's new, started just after I got back from my extended leave. I don't know too much about him since I tend to only really talk to Nicole here, but he seems nice enough. The kind of guy who shows up on time, does his job, and leaves. Model employee really.
"Anyways, I appreciate the help. You have a good day," Jaxson tells him before he heads for the door.
Sam or maybe it's Sean I'm not quite sure, our security guard stops him with a hand on his shoulder and some quietly whispered words. I catch the quick tick of tension, before he loosens up. "Guess I'll just take a seat until this all wraps up. Do you mind if I use my phone?"
After a quick nod from Kento, Sam/Sean tells him it's fine. Jaxson isn't the only customer in the bank, but he is the only one who's tried to leave. One of the loan officers is still meeting with a middle age woman in his office.
"WELL FIGURE IT OUT!" Hamilton shouts through the door, before he opens it and rushes out red faced and his hair rumpled.
"Sir," Wells tries to calm him but he's beyond reason. Whatever the guys did and it has to have been them, has clearly rattled him and he's not able to remember where he is and contain it.
"I want everyone present on a list. In fact, everyone in and out of this building all week," he rattles off instructions, the rest too low for me to hear. His hazel eyes scan the room, narrowing on me for a moment as he grinds his teeth hard enough to crack, before dismissing me and scrutinizing the rest of the potential suspects.
He storms out of the building with Wells and Kento scrambling behind after some brief words to James and Sam/Sean.
"What the hell was that?" Nicole finally asks once they leave.
"I have no idea, but I have a feeling that wasn't the end of whatever it was? I can't put myself on the line and tell you, but it's likely to get a lot worse before it gets better. Sharon is going to look like Mother Teresa when this is over."