This is for adding a Search Category to the thread.
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"I guess so," Mercy says. "Honestly, no one's called. I don't know if he even has clients, maybe he just rents an office so he can pretend he's Phoenix Wright. I mean, I guess he must," she adds quickly in realization of her unprofessional demeanor. "Work at home, I mean."
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I give her a blank look at the name Phoenix Wright. No sense in her thinking we could actually be friends.
"Well, there are days I'd take it over what I do," I answer with a grin. A hand clicks out a soft staccato with my nails as if I'm thinking of something.
"So you have a personal number for him?"
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"No," Mercy says with a shake of her head (hair slipping down in front of her eyes again). She fixes it and adds, "I mean, he calls in once or twice a day just to see if I need anything or anyone's called."
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"Oh," I say, trying to hide my disappointment.
I wave a hand, "I'm sorry... just trying to make up on holiday bills I ran up with a sale." I offer a weak smile.
This is like being at one of those social functions I hate... I'm not sure what to say, or how to leave.
"What did you think?" I finally ask, gesturing to the computer screen as I pull my jump drive out. Hopefully it's got something for me.
I'll be damned if I pretend to be a Girl Scout selling cookies to get into Karabas' house.
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Mercy shrugs and says, "It seems like a handy program?" Her tone is a mix of apathy and ignorance--even with the demo she has no idea what the thing does, but doesn't care. Looks like someone isn't going to make a sale.
But hopefully the flash drive has more to give out.
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As the silence stretches out, I wonder if the window glass is reinforced, or if I could simply throw myself out of it.
It might be less painful.
Finally, I make a startled move and pull my phone out.
"Damnit, it's work," I lie.
Standing up, I pull a pen out. "Before I forget, Mercy, what's your last name? Just in case the paper pushers get picky over my sales log..."
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"Oh!" Mercy says, "It's Park. Is anybody going to be calling me, or...?" Her tone is chipper and happy-to-help but body language says Please God no. She opens desk drawer and withdraws a business card. "Here's our info, in case this helps."
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"No way," I shake my head, as if disgusted with the phantom Accounting Department. "You know how those types are, though, if there's a blank on a form, it needs filling... and there's already enough Smiths from days I've taken to go job-hunting."
I put the card and phone away and turn to face Mercy with my hands folded. "Thank you so much, by the way. I'm sure I've been a total pain."
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She laughs. "No, no, it's been great actually, having someone around to talk to. My dog's getting pretty bored about hearing about this place when I get home. So thank you for coming in, Jenny. Have a good one, okay?"
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"You, too, Mercy, thanks," I say, getting up, smiling a genuine smile. I'm reminded of the Alanis song, All I Really Want: 'And I am fascinated by the spiritual man; I am humbled by his humble nature.'
I pack my things up and make my way out, curious to see if my fishing expedition turned anything up.
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