Interesting.
“But they have very foul mouths,” Marjorie added.
“I don’t want to push your buttons, honestly,” I said. “But, I mean, how bad is it really to curse?”
“The allowance of it is the end to a civilized civilization,” Marjorie declared.
I was skewing towards Shirleen’s side on this.
“I heard there was a study that said that people who curse, primarily using the F-word, have higher intelligence and verbal fluency,” I noted cautiously.
“I would need to see this study, and peruse who conducted it, assessing if they have valid credentials to research such a topic, because I don’t believe a single word of that,” Marjorie retorted.
I couldn’t share this information, because I didn’t bother to memorize this information when I was reading about it due to the fact I didn’t think I’d ever be called to cite my sources. But if memory served, it was an authoritative organization.
As I couldn’t do that, and Marjorie would accept nothing less, my only shot for a response was, “I think we might have to agree to disagree on this topic.”
“I don’t work with you. You can talk however you want,” Marjorie said.
I smiled. “Well, thanks.”
At this juncture, the door to the command deck opened and Knox strolled through.
“Hey, honey,” I greeted.
“Babe,” he replied, coming to me and giving me a quick peck.
Man, I loved watching him walk, his voice, his overall hotness and his quick pecks.
“I’m sure you’ve noted he stopped using his sling some days ago,” Marjorie bitched.
Shirleen rolled her eyes.
“Hit my head against that wall, sister,” I told Marjorie, and that was the truth.
She assembled some papers that were in front of her, tapped their edges smartly against the desk, put them back down, shot a look to Shirleen, a slightly less severe one to me and Knox, then bent over the papers.
“You see what I’m dealing with,” Shirleen said not-so-sotto voce.
I didn’t respond to that.
I said, “Those shoes were amazing. And the hat is perfect. Thanks for finding them for me.”
“Gotta say, buying a cowboy hat is a first, but I bested the challenge.”
“You totally did.”
“Nightingale Investigations and Security Employee Handbook, section one, paragraph four, subheading four, employees whose duties are confined to the office have two fifteen-minute breaks, one morning, one afternoon, and one lunch break, one hour, to be taken between eleven and one. This does not cover leaving early to go shopping,” Marjorie looked up from her papers to declare.
Shirleen watched her say this then turned to me. “The minute those handbooks were delivered from the printer, my life became a living hell.”
Marjorie opened her mouth, but Knox nabbed my hand and started dragging me toward the door.
He did this fast.
“We’re gone,” he announced.
Shirleen immediately turned and walked to the door to the inner sanctum, saying, “Good luck.”
