Cowboy Baby Daddy

I wait at the door to the hallway until I hear the other door open and Wrigley thanking the woman again for being so understanding. I’m out the door and not looking back on my way down the hall.

I turn down the other hallway and make it to the elevators without incident. When I get to the bottom floor, though, the guards have a few of the people I hardly recognize with clothes stopped, questioning them.

I’d love to jump in and save them, but I have no idea what cover story they’re using and I’m pretty sure that I’d only make the situation worse for them, so I just try my luck walking past when I think they’re not looking.

“He was in the meeting, he’ll tell you,” some fucking idiot tells one of the security guards.

I stop walking. Sure, I might be able to get out those doors and outrun the guards, but that would put Wrigley in serious shit when she tried to come out.

“What’s going on?” I ask the guards.

“Why don’t you tell us?”

“We just finished up a meeting,” I say. “What’s the problem?”

“The problem is that Mrs. Owen came through here just a few minutes ago, saying that she heard there were some unauthorized people up on 36, and what do you know? A few minutes later, we’ve got a couple dozen people filing out of the elevator. Where’s Miss Bliley?”

“She had to make a pit stop,” I answer. “Look, I don’t know what you think is going on here, but we just finished up with our meeting, it’s late, I’m tired, and I’m sure we’d all just like to go home and get a good night’s sleep.”

“Yeah?” the shorter security guard asks. “What was the meeting about?”

The people the guards stopped obviously gave some specific answer to that question, putting me in an almost impossible position.

“I can’t tell you that,” I answer.

“What do you mean you can’t tell us that?” the taller security guard asks, resting his hand on his belt.

“Have either of you ever heard of proprietary information?” I ask. “Not only could I lose my job if I disclosed the nature of the meeting to anyone not authorized, I could also get sued. I’m really not willing to risk that just because Mrs. Owen is paranoid that she’s losing her grip on the company.”

Hell, if I’m going to make shit up, I may as well take it as far as I can.

The guards look at each other.

“She’s losing the company?” the shorter guard asks. “These people said the meeting was about profit margins.”

“I’m sure they did,” I say. Is a wink too much? Yeah, a wink is too much. “And I never said that she was losing her grip on the company. Anyway, I can’t discuss it. Can we go, or are you going to continue to waste everyone’s time?”

“Well, if it was just a meeting,” the taller security guard starts, “then why did most of the people who came down run when we asked them to stop?”

Fucking amateurs.

“Probably because they didn’t want you reporting who was here at the meeting. Look guys,” I say in my good-old-boy tone, “we don’t want to make this situation awkward for anyone, but I can’t have Mrs. Owen coming back on any of our people, either. That doesn’t seem fair, I mean these are just good, hardworking people trying to do their job—just like the two of you. So, what do you say we just keep names and faces out of it?”

The truth is that, unless everyone except for Wrigley is a complete dolt, names and faces aren’t going to mean jack shit to anyone in this building, but it’s a good line.

“You know,” I say, “after things get switched around upstairs, I’d really hate to see the boss have to bring on new staff.”

The guards look at each other and then at me.

“All right,” the tall one says.

“We’ve got your back, Mr. Dur—I mean, sir.”

The elevator dings, and I’m praying that it’s anyone but Mrs. Owen who walks out. To my temporary relief, it’s Wrigley.

That relief is temporary because she’s not up to speed on the bullshit I’ve been feeding these guys.

“Hey there, boss,” I say. “We had a little misunderstanding down here, but not to worry. Our friends here don’t know anything about the meeting.”