Mr. Dark 4 (Tamed #4)(18)

The counter clerk, a reasonably handsome kid who stood about five ten, nodded. "Yes, how can I help you guys?"

It was my cue to take over. "I'm Sophie Warbird, and this is Marcus Smiley," I said, offering my hand in such a way as to make my already noticeable cleavage roughly the size of the Grand Canyon. "Our investment firm brought over a file on this company, and while we understand it is a bit strange to be visiting on a Saturday, do you think it would be okay if we looked around, get a feel for things?"

"Ah, sure," the kid said. He looked like he was about seventeen, maybe eighteen, and I was sure that with the show I was giving him, I'd filed a long term spot in his spank bank. "I'm Mike Pressman, my dad owns the place."

"Really?" Marcus said, reaching over and shaking the kid's hand. "Well, you're just the sort of person I wanted to meet. So what are you doing here on a Saturday afternoon when I guess most guys your age are out with a pretty girl?"

"Covering for my brother Scott, mostly," Mike said. "He was supposed to work the afternoon Saturday shift, but he begged me to cover for him. He's got a new girlfriend, and he wanted time with her enough to not only give me his pay, but an extra hundred bucks."

"Sounds like a good deal for you," Marcus said with a disarming smile. "I do hope the young lady is worth it for your brother. Tell me, is your father around?"

"No, but I can give him a call if you want," Mike replied. "As for my brother, he told me she was gorgeous. Redhead, which my brother is weak for."

“Sure, if your dad could come down for a few minutes I'd appreciate it. In the meantime, you think you could show me around the shop?"

"Sure," Mike replied. "Let me give him a call. Uh, there's some chemicals and stuff around the shop, so it's best if you guys stay inside and don't touch much until I get back, but you can look around if you want. Three minutes or so."

Mike disappeared into the back, and Mark looked at me, for the moment his Marcus persona dropped. "Keep your eyes open," he mouthed to me while he stepped around the shop, his eyes taking in everything.

I kept most of my attention on the back, where I could hear Mike talking excitedly to someone on the phone, while Mark walked around the shop. He looked closely at a few of the items before circling the shop some more, semi-casually strutting while Mike finished up his phone call. As he came back into the room, Marcus was back, looking around at the disassembled window air conditioner unit on one of the benches. "It's been a long time since I've seen one of these monsters," he said to Mike, who came over after giving me a once over with his eyes. "Are these still popular?"

"That's actually not an air conditioner, but I can see why you'd think it," Mike said. "That's actually part of an industrial freezer. Works the same way as an air conditioner, but it obviously blows a lot colder. This one is just in for a biannual checkup and recharge of the coolant, I think."

"So are you trained in the HVAC business?" Marcus asked, letting his natural charisma pull Mike in. It was safe, the kid was so young that there was no way he knew the full extent of his family's business. "No offense Mike, but you look like you're a junior in high school."

"Sophomore, actually," Mike bashfully said. "I know it's against state law for me to be here by myself, but Scott really likes this girl, and all I do is answer the phones."

"Don't worry, it won't affect my investment decision," Marcus replied. He and Mike small talked until a large Pressman truck pulled up in front, and a beefy upper middle aged man got out. His polo shirt was stretched across a stomach that looked like it had seen more than its fair share of good steaks in its time. Marcus looked at the man, then over at me, flicking his head. I read his signal, he wanted me to be in full distraction mode.

"Hello, you must be Mr. Pressman. I'm Sophie Warbird, Mr. Smiley's personal assistant."

Papa Pressman was just like his son, and could barely keep his eyes off of my cleavage and at least somewhat politely on my face. "Nice to meet you Miss Warbird. I have to say, this is highly irregular."

"We understand Mr. Pressman, and we apologize for that. It was just that Mr. Smiley was so intrigued by your petition for an investor that he wanted to move quickly. As you know, we just moved into the Mount Zion property."

"Yes, I've heard about that," Pressman said. "I have a friend who was contacted about some of the electrical work, but had to pass on the job."

"I'm sorry to hear that. While we have good heating and air now, the process taught us a lot about the importance of a good contractor. So we've been looking for a place to invest in."

"And of course maybe having someone on call who can come fix that place," Pressman said with a knowing grin. "Let's face it, places like that need repair all the time."

"They do," I conceded. "If you don't mind Mr. Pressman, lets you and I talk while Marcus gets a knowledge lesson from your son. I do most of the investment decisions for Mr. Smiley."

"Of course, but I'll be honest I'm not exactly ready to talk numbers," Pressman said.

I waved it off with a small laugh. "That's okay, neither am I. I have all the numbers I need back at the office, in fact probably too many. I just agree with my fiancée in that the numbers don't tell us everything. The people are just as important."