Stepping off the sidewalk, I move into the street andcontinue across. Easily done, considering the traffic is all but nonexistent, and the cars that potter nearby do so at a snail’s pace. A luxury that small-town folks enjoy enough to forgo fast food and big box stores.
Stepping up on the other side, I make a beeline for the bank’s front doors, and pulling them open, I step into the air-conditioned cool and take a moment to catalog the layout.
I’ve already seen the city plans. I’ve studied the blueprints. But being inside is a wholly different experience. I scan the teller desks directly ahead and the lounge chairs scattered throughout with coffee tables nearby, so business can be conducted in comfort. I peer to my left and spot the single, older, overweight security guard perched upon a stool with a cup of coffee balancing on his knee. Finally, I look right and find the offices.
Nova will be in one of those.
I count the security cameras mounted on the ceiling—one in each corner of the square room—and the lack of glass between the tellers and their customers.
I suppose they’ve yet to experience a robbery or been given reason to be fearful.
Moving before the security guard considers me interesting, I start toward the tellers while slyly glancing toward the offices in hopes of seeing that mousy blonde hair.
I have a target. But she’s not any of the three tellers beaming up at me as I decide which desk I’ll approach.
“Hi there, sir.” The one in the middle is more outspoken than her colleagues, with a bright smile and wide eyes.
I follow her lead and cut down the middle, noting the wayher lips spread wider and her happiness is… well, it’s fucking palpable.
The drawback of small-town living is that this, a new customer, is the highlight of her day.
“Hello. My name is Genevieve, and I’m so happy to help you today. Do you require a withdrawal, or will you be making a deposit?”
“Uh… both, actually. Kind of.” I show her a stammering, nervous, easy-to-please customer and reach back for my wallet. “I was hoping to meet with your loan officer.”
“Oh, of course!” She bounds around her desk and gestures toward the offices, chattering until her hair bounces. “I’d hate to assume, sir, but I don’t recognize your face. Are you an existing customer?”
“Not yet. I’m new to town, so I require accounts to be set up, and then a loan application to be filled out. I have a substantial deposit and excellent credit, so I’m sure everything will run smoothly.”
“Sounds perfect.” She leads me toward two side-by-side offices. One is Nova’s, and the other belongs to Alicia, the woman I saw yesterday at the funeral.
Genevieve almost overshoots her landing and takes me to the older woman, but I slow my steps and gesture toward Nova’s empty visitor chair, visible through the glass panels on each side of her door. “She looks available.”
“She sure is. And she’s so lovely too, Mr.…” She hesitates. “Uh?”
“Castro. Lincoln Castro.”
“Mr. Castro. Nova is excellent at her job, but she’s had adeath in the family recently, so I thought I’d pass you on to our colleague to allow Nova a little peace.”
Playing my part, I lean back and thank the heavens when I find an ass already sitting in Alicia’s visitor chair. Straightening once more, I shrug and show Genevieve a friendly smile. “I’ll take this one. I promise to be gentle.”
“Of course.” Nervously, she giggles and starts toward Nova’s door. “She could probably do with a distraction, anyway.”
Gossiping about your colleagues is wildly unprofessional, Genevieve. Didn’t you know that?
Knocking, she opens Nova’s door and steps inside, gesturing me in behind her.
“Lincoln?” Nova is not nearly as dense as her coworker, so she assesses me with a stunned expression and pushes to her feet, smoothing her dress down and searching my eyes. “Uh… did you forget something yesterday?”
“Oh! You know each other?” Genevieve’s cheeks burn with humiliation. “Oh my gosh, Mr. Castro. You should have said so.”
“I didn’t know you worked here.” I mean, I did. But a lie is a lie, and committing to them is how we don’t get caught.I move toward Nova’s desk and offer my hand. “I’m sorry for interrupting your day, Ms. Nichols. I came looking for a bank, not realizing this was yours.”
“Um…” She accepts my hand, because she’s polite and at work—and in business, this is what you do. But her brows furrow, and a curious line digs between them, creating a wrinkle she’ll have permanently in fifteen more years. “You’re not here to talk to me? A-about Ryan?”
“No.” I release her and smile. “I need to open a bank account, actually, and discuss a home loan.” I settle into her visitor chairand nod as Genevieve’s heelstap-tap-taptheir way out of the office.
You’re dismissed.
