Friday Fiction - Opening to Mickey Spencer, AC

Well, Friday's here again. Not sure if I thought this out fully before declaring Friday Fiction Friday? Oh, well, I'm here now.

This has been rattling around in my head for a while - Mickey Spencer, AC (Accounting Clerk). I'm hoping (all going according to plan) to write about Mickey on Friday's - share her story with you. I don't know about the format I've chosen; so I don't think I'll ever do anything with it publishing wise. Makes for the perfect fodder for Fiction Fridays - since we're still all a little fuzzy on the rules and guidelines.

I hope you enjoy.

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Mickey Spencer, AC - No Accounting for Bad Taste

12 Letter Word for Set Up...

Dick, Dick and Dick Investigations!

Mickey Spencer slammed the filing cabinet drawer shut and reached across her desk. "Warner and Sons Investigations, how may I help you?"

The man on the other end of the phone hesitated and I knew he was about to tell a lie. He’d be looking for a PI, someone to spy on his wife or girlfriend. But first, he’d claim to be in a pickle, not sure where to turn, who to ask. I waited for him to get to the point, using the computer mouse to click the crossword I had paused earlier. Seven letter word for a gimmick? The man on the phone paused.

"I’m sorry, sir, but Warner and Sons deal only with fraudulent cases. Is this a case of fraud?"

He would try and find a loop hole, maybe claim it was fraud, but I had been answering phones for the three Dicks long enough to know when a caller was just down on his luck.

"No, I’m sorry, sir, but you’ll have to find another private investigation firm, one that handles infidelity cases. Thank you for calling."

Poor bastard. Ooh, novelty.

"Mickey?"

She minimized the Internet connection and tried not to look guilty as she glanced toward the door of her windowless office. "Yes, Jack?"

Jack Warner, second son and one hot Dick. He propped himself against the door jam, crossed his arms over his muscular chest. I hadn’t seen him all day and assumed he was taking a Hangover Day. Sure glad he came in, though. Who knew a man’s forearms, all sinewy and dusted with dark brown hair could be so sexy?

"Well?"

Mickey did a slow blink. She hadn’t heard a word he said. She plastered on a perfect receptionist smile. "Right away, Jack."

"Great. Thanks." He pushed himself away from the door. "By the way, nice necklace."

I’d worn the same necklace for the past two years. And he called himself a private investigator!

Mickey touched the silver medallion. "Thanks." The phone rang.

Brainless Dick Investigations!

"Warner and Sons."

"Hello, Honey. They got you answering the phones?"

"Gramps!" Mickey stood up, untangled the cord and moved toward the door. "Busy day today, Gramps, and Brenda’s gone for lunch. Is everything OK?" She positioned herself in order to see into the main office area.

"I’m fine. I was just thinking over your case and, well, have you thought about setting up a dummy account? You know, lure him out into the open that way since your surveillance isn’t netting any results?"

"Never thought about that, Gramps. Great advice." She twirled the phone cord around her finger. Jack was talking with Evan, the eldest of the brothers. Their voices were rising and Mickey knew they were arguing. Again.

"Well, try it out and let me know if it works. Bastard can’t get away with stealing all that money from those old women. Someone’s got to stop him."

"That’s what they pay me the big bucks for, Gramps."

Jack was stabbing his finger into Evan’s equally muscular chest.

"What’s that noise, Honey?"

"Difference of opinion. I should go, Gramps, lots to do this afternoon." She looked back at her desk piled with papers and files.

"OK, Honey. You stay safe."

The Brothers Dick were seconds away from taking the argument from a shouting match to fisty-cuffs. I’d seen it before and would only love to see it again if they made it a topless event. Better yet, have them don some boxer shorts…

Mickey snorted at the pun and headed back to her desk. Month end wouldn’t get done by itself.

~Copyright: Janet S. Corcoran (2010)

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How's your writing coming along, People of Blogland? Anything to report, any issues you need to vent, care to share a favorite line?