Lean Mean Thirteen (Stephanie Plum 13)

“It's okay with me,” Connie said.

I nodded and pulled my scarf up over my nose. “Me too. Let’s go inside. I’m freezing.”

“Wait,” Lula said. “We need a name. You can't have a limo company without a name.”

“Lucky Limos,” Connie said.

“The hell,” Lula said. “I'm not joining up with a limo company's got a lame name like that.”

“Then you name it,” Connie said to Lula. “I don't give a fig what the friggin' company is called. My feet are numb.”

“It should be something that reflects on us,” Lula said. “Like The Bitches Limos.”

“That's a stupid name. No one's going to hire a limo from a company with a name like that,” Connie said.

“I know some people,” Lula said.

“Lovely Limos, Lonely Limos, Loser Limos, Lumpy Limos, Looney Limos, La De Da Limos, Limos for Liars, Lampshade Limos, Landfill Limos, Leaky Limos, Lemon Limos, Long Limos, Large Limos, Lazy Limos, Loosey Goosey Limos,” I said.

Connie looked at me and grimaced.

“Maybe it should be called Lula's Limos,” I said.

“Yeah, that got a ring to it,” Lula said.

“Then it's a deal. Lula's Limos.”

“Deal,” Connie said. “Get out of my way, so I can get inside and defrost.”

We all pushed through the front door to Dickie's building and stood in the foyer, sopping up the sudden blast of heat. The foyer opened to a reception area, and I was relieved to see an unfamiliar face behind the desk. If anyone had recognized me from my last visit, they would have immediately called for security.

“Let me do the talking,” I said to Lula.

“Sure,” Lula said. “I’ll be quiet as a mouse. I'll zip my lip.”

I approached the desk and made an attempt at demure. “We'd like to see Mr. Orr,” I told the woman.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No,” I said. “I'm terribly sorry to drop in like this, but we're starting a new business, and we need some legal advice. We were down the street looking at real estate and thought we'd take a chance that Mr. Orr might have a moment for us.”

“Of course,” the woman said. “Let me see if he's available. The name?”

“Capital City Limos.”

“Hunh,” Lula said behind me.

The woman buzzed Dickie and relayed our information. She got off the phone and smiled. “He has a few minutes between appointments. You can take the elevator to your left. Second floor.”

We all moved into the elevator, and I pushed the button for the second floor.

“What was that?” Lula wanted to know. “Capital City Limos?”

“It just popped out, but it sounds classy, right?”

“Not as classy as Lula's Limos,” Lula said. “I'd call Lula's Limos any day of the week over Capital City Limos. Capital City Limos sounds like it got a stick up its ass, but you'd be in for a good time in Lulas Limos.”

The door opened, and we spilled out of the elevator into another reception room with another new face at the desk.