Page 220 of A Lick and A Promise
“I want a verbal report,” Marjorie called after us. “From Luna!” she finished loudly and urgently as we made it through the door.
“I’ll call!” I yelled from the hall at the closing door.
After I did this, I wondered if shouting in the office and/or office building was permitted, and if so, Marjorie herself just committed a no-no.
Knox pulled me to the elevators.
“That isn’t as fun as I thought it would be,” I told him as we waited for the elevator to come.
“It could be funny, before the handbook. Now it’s just a pain in the ass.”
“Does she quote it to all of you?”
“Rarely. But she lays it out for Shirleen on the regular.”
The elevator came.
We got in.
The doors were closing when I noted, “Maybe Mace should have a word.”
“She’s been with Mace for ages. He’s immune. I get it. She runs a tight ship. It’s the kind of thing where she puts the coffee in his hand before he even knows he wants it and his and Stella’s dry cleaning is delivered before he knows she sent someone to pick it up. We want a Post-it notepad, they’re there to be had. Tasers always charged. Plenty of ammo in the gun closet.”
Yikes.
“But…yeah,” he went on. “She’s used to free-reign tyranny in running the ship, whereas Shirleen ran hers like she was a cruise director, but she was on vacation on that cruise. This clash in management style, unless one of them caves, and Shirleen is never gonna cave, Marjorie probably isn’t either, is only going to get worse.”
The doors opened and we walked out.
We were still holding hands.
And I was digging that.
“Is there some way to make it so they can both be who they are and it’s copasetic?” I inquired.
“I’m not a manager. I hope to fuck I never become a manager. I take lead on cases, I take lead on teams, and I’m good at that, I like doing it. Management, fuck no. So I have no clue.”
We got in my car. I started her up and realized I didn’t get validation.
“Shit, I didn’t get my ticket validated.”
He leaned forward and pulled out his wallet.
“Just press this to the reader,” he said, handing me a blank, white, credit-card-sized, well…card.
I took it.
It worked.
I handed it back, and we headed on our way.
“We need to get you women those,” he muttered.
They did, so no need to confirm.
“Tito and Tex are opposites. And they work,” I pointed out.
“Tito would wash a leper’s feet and listen to a serial killer’s confession before he was executed. Tito makes room, he doesn’t take room. Marjorie nor Shirleen are that.”
