While the shady sonofabitch signs our paperwork, I sneak a look at Sam. She was about to tell me something important when Mr. Swanky rang our bell. I’m not a jealous man but our new client exudes a vibe which makes men like me want to punch his lights out for no reason other than the fact he exists. If you add how he’s lying about something, I figure I should win an award for self-control.
With a dramatic flair, he clicks his gold pen, signs his John Hancock, and stands. “I need this to be your top priority.”
“We’ll put someone right on it.” I don a professional smile but stay seated.
The bigger jerk he is, the more I will bill to his account. In addition, if he hits on my wife again, a vacation in the Caicos will be part of the investigation and charged to his platinum credit card.
“Everything you need is in here.” Oblivious to my thoughts, he opens his suit jacket, reaches into a silk lined pocket, and hands me a USB drive.
“If you don’t mind, I’d be most obliged if you’d give us an overview of our chores, in your own words.” I stretch back in my chair, lace my fingers behind my head and cross my ankles.
“I really don’t have time for this.” Montclair frowns and checks his phone screen.
“I think you do.” The tone I use holds a threat of violence, but my wife butts in, ruining the whole effect.
“How about you tell us how artificial intelligence works? I’ve read the literature but I’m afraid it goes right over my head.” The way Sam flutters her eyelashes, makes me want to bust a gut laughing. Instead, I shake my head. Her pretending to be an airhead is damn hilarious.
“How can I say no to such a beautiful lady.” Sitting back down, her stooge shoots her a smile, and smirks at me but I don’t give a shit. He’s the one being played.
Leaning forward, he opens his phone and shows her a picture of the wide-mouthed figure. “They may look like Tickle-me Elmo, but that’s where the similarities end. The eyes have cameras in them, connected to the cloud. The toy also has a microphone and listens to conversations, even baby talk. Using all the data and a complex algorithm, the doll interacts at an almost human level.”
I whistle through my teeth. When we blew up the truck, I was only concerned about the fentanyl hidden in the bodies. “How much would one of these AI Muppets set you back?”
“About five hundred bucks a pop. Much more on the black market.” The suit shakes his head. “And despite the high price, CloudTekToys couldn’t keep up with the demand.”
“Are you sayin’ your insurance company is on the hook for over a quarter-million dollars?”Holy shit, I had no idea.I sure hope they don’t plan on suing us. Even Patten Securities would have a tough time coughing up that much dough.
“More like a half a mil.” Crossing his arms, he waits for his words to set in and at first, I don’t understand his smug smile.
Then, it dawns on me. “If you can prove an employee was involved, I bet you get a huge piece of the pie.”
“That’s generally, how these things work.” His answer sounds legit so why are my spidey senses tingling?
Squirming in her chair, Sam purses her lips. “I didn’t hear you mention your employer’s name. What insurance company are you working for?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.” Arms crossed, Darling Dash meets my wife’s deep frown.
Tapping her fingernails on the table, she raises one brow. “It won’t be hard for me to find out.”
“Go for it.” He stands, brushes non-existent wrinkles from his pants, and straightens his silk tie. “I’ll expect a daily update.”
I snort out my nose. “Weekly.”
“Bi-weekly and more often if you come across anything of note.” Three steps later, he removes his coat from the tree and when he turns, I nod.
“Deal.”Cha-ching.Preparing a report takes hours and time is money.
Having used up my allotment of polite, I stay seated while Sam opens the foyer door and smiles. “Nothing is set in stone. We’ll be in touch, Mr. Montclair.”
“Dash. Please.” He holds her hand a lot longer than he should and eyes me.
I grin back because she’s mine and nothing he could say or do would ever lure her away. Trying to make me jealous won’t work because I am the luckiest damn man in the world. I wait until his expensive shoes clack down the stairs before I take my wife in my arms and consume her mouth in a heated kiss. It’s been over two weeks since I was inside her and my cock is rarin’ to go.
As impatient as me, she struggles out of her jacket-shirt combo and tugs it over her head. Before it hits the floor, I’ve unlatched her bra and am about to devour her luscious tits when the doorbell buzzes.
“Do not answer it.” I nibble her navel and unbutton her jeans. “Probably someone selling girl scout cookies.”
“Or holy rollers carrying pamphlets trying to save us from eternal damnation.”
