First Posted: 3 April 1997
"Hmm? Oh, yeah, I guess. What's up?" asks Stephanie, dropping another spoon of sugar into her coffee, then coming over to my desk as I'm getting my coat on.
"John's got some old and not-so-old property records he wants me to trace down. I have to pop down to Archives at City Hall."
"Blech!" interjects Darcey. "That's a rotten way to kill an afternoon."
"Yeah, tell me about it," I agree, stomping my feet into my Docs.
"What's John need the stuff for?" Stephanie asks, making a face as she sips her coffee. "Uhg! To bitter. Needs more sugar." She wanders back to the coffee island.
Shaking my head I mutter to Darcey, "I have no idea how the girl stays so thin..." Then, louder, "Oh, I don't know, isn't a one-to-one ratio of coffee to sugar normal?"
Stephanie sticks her tongue out at him as she rejoins us.
"Actually," I say, picking up the conversation again, "I don't know why he wants the stuff. Figure he'll tell us if he wants us to know. Being the trusted and dependable Research Officer, mine is not to question why, just to dig up the dirt."
"Ah, yes. I forgot you worked at one of those tabloids," adds Stephanie, sipping her coffee again. "Mm, better."
"Ghaa! Please, don't remind me!" I groan, holding my head in mock pain. "Besides. It was only for six months or so. And I'm never going back. The stories I could tell..."
"Hmm...yeah, you've told a few of them," interjects Darcey. "Well, whatever. You going to be gone long?"
"Dunno," I say truthfully. "Depends. Some of this stuff might be on microfiche, which will be quicker than paging through musty hardcopy...but not much faster. Hopefully I'll be back before we lock up, but..."
"Yeah, yeah. Go," orders Stephanie with a smile. "I figure me and Darcey-boy can manage to keep things from falling apart for the afternoon."
"Thanks guys!" I call out as I head for the stairs.
Sure is nice working in a friendly office for a change. And the work is interesting. Nice to use the research skills I've got rather than just answering phones. Or serving as a decorative piece of ass for the boss. Heh. Not that I don't have a great ass. As the boss well knows.
Now, now, Tracey, wouldn't do to say that out loud, I chastise myself, smiling wickedly.