Page 86 of Bless This Hot Mess

“Micah? We don’t have a lawyer named Micah,” Betty gave a little shake of her head, smile faltering. Was this in fact a stick-up after all? Or a chuckleless gotcha set up by her humourless boss?

“Sorry, we should have explained,” Ronald offered, taking a step forward as the receptionist took a step back, “he works in the Manhattan office.”

“Manhattan office?” she repeated, as if tasting the words for the first time.

“Would you be able to call them for us please and see if they can get Micah on the line? It’s important. Maybe even life or death,” Rebekkah whispered and the receptionist began to sweat. She wasn’t sure anymore just whose life was on the line, and she certainly hoped it wasn’t hers. Rebekkah winked at her through the two bangs that remained on her forehead and though it was meant as a sincere gesture of comfort, it registered as the unhinged tick of a person who had walked into the law office with a paper bag on their head.

Betty steeled her spine and wheeled back around her deskand sat down, efficiently spooling a piece of paper into her typewriter to take notes. “My dear, I will do everything I can to bring a hard rain of justice down on the monster who assaulted your hair and called you a mousy, brown blob with a stubby tail. I’m on your side.”

“Oh no! Those aren’t the monsters! Those are my co-workers. And we’re not sure if theotherperson is a monster actually. He may give us a Kia Rio,” Rebekkah clarified.

“Is he bribing you?” the receptionist asked, fingers dancing in anticipation of the answer and ready to strike.

“No, we won it,” Rebekkah said, shaking her head, which consequently shook her over-the-ear flap of hair.

“But we’re not sure if we actually get it,” Ronald added for further confusing context.

“Is this like an underground gambling ring? Do you have a gambling addiction? I’m not clear on who is bribing you… and if the monster that may not be a monster is also the one who attacked you? Or if that was your coworkers?” Betty asked and gracefully rested her chin on her fist, posed like a famous statue by Auguste Rodin. “Were the disparaging comments from the HR department disparaging to you, or perhaps you didn’t realize they were disparaging? And is this gambling ring happening during working hours or like on your lunch breaks? Whether it’s happening on company premises or not will be an important point in our discovery.”

Rebekkah walked up to the receptionist’s desk and placed her hands on the edge, leaning over in a way that was meant to convey comradery and candor but in fact held a hint of unintended menace. Betty leaned back as far as she could in her chair and bravely kept smiling.

“I’m sorry, I don’t want to be rude, but we really just need to speak with Micah,” Rebekkah said, patience frayed. “The possible bribery and work-place coercion and who’s amonster and who’s not a monster all need to go on the backburner. If we don’t figure out a new way to clean, what do we have now fellas? Three?”

“I think we actually have five now,” Japheth answered, thinking of WWJD’s bulging duffels.

“Five! Five body bags of…” Rebekkah began, and Betty blanched.

“Body bags?!” she squeaked.

“We’ve been busy,” Rebekkah said, apologetically shaking her head.

“Well, not busy enough. And we’re losing daylight here. Will youpleasecall Micah? He’s gonna know what to do,” Ronald pleaded.

“Like I said, no one named Micah works here. I don’t have a number for a Manhattan office. We don’t even have a…” the receptionist began, then trailed off as something about Kia Rios turned a dusty gear in her memory.

“It’s okay guys. Let’s all just take a breath,” Japheth said, dialing his phone with trembling determination. “I’ll try to call Micah again and if he answers I’ll put him on speaker so we can all figure out what’s going on.”

He stabbed at the keypad on his cell phone with nervous impatience. It started to ring and it sounded… close. Very close. Like there was an answering echo to the ringing phone he held in his hand.

“Wienus, Weinus, and Ware,” came a voice, nasal and officious, from the phone but it also sounded like it was in the wall.

“Micah?” Japheth asked, eyes narrowing. “Are you okay? You sound like you might have a cold?”

“Yes! Ahem,” he coughed. His voice had pitched down an octave and when he spokeagain, he did so with heroic urgency, “Yes. Hello. How can I help? Have you been in a slip-and-fall accident? Are you seriously hurt?”

“Micah, it’s me, Japheth! Your message and your muse?” Japheth reminded him, just as Rebekkah elbowed him in the ribs, a not-so-subtle reminder that he was not a solo artist. “Oof! Rebekkah and Ronald are here too, from Trinity?”

“Right, right. Of course, you did a wonderful job with my commercial. Ware Wear & Wares truly will be and is the future of fashion,” Micah said confidently. “Now, why are you calling me? I’m just about to take some orphans on a tour of Lady Liberty by air.”

“Oh, that’s so nice! They’re going to love that. I’ve never been to New York myself…” Japheth cooed.

“They’re boarding now. Annie! Get in the back with that scruffy mutt! I’m sorry Japheth, I’ve got my hands full right now. Maybe you can try me again tomorrow?” Micah suggested.

“This won’t take long, I promise. It’s just that we’re in some trouble, we’ve been receiving cease and desist letters from a bunch of record labels and artists.”

“Oh?” Micah asked.

Again, it sounded strangely distant and close at the same time. Ronald’s ears perked up and he started pacing around the office, trying to decipher the reason for the strange acoustics on the call.