Ricky Joe Got Owned
Tag for "The ACM Kid"
"And frankly, Ricky Joe, sex with you was always a major disappointment."
Lee didn't know why Amanda's words kept echoing in his mind. Why he couldn't just forget about it even though it had been a few days. He knew there was nothing to it. Only a cover. His disgruntled ex-wife – of course an ex-wife would say something like that, right? And besides it wasn't as if Amanda knew what she was talking of. So why couldn't he just forget about it and put it aside?
Maybe because that scene at the bar and what Amanda had said was starting to make the rounds at the Agency? He didn't know how. He was sure no one else from the Agency had been there, just him and Amanda – and Amanda wasn't likely to repeat to anyone what she had said.
Oh well, what did you expect? We're an intelligence agency. Everything comes to light, sooner or later.
He was standing at his desk and sorting through the files on it – he hated dealing with paperwork so the stack was quite high – when Francine entered the bullpen. When she spotted him she slowed down for a fraction. The corners of her mouth twitched. She quickly averted her gaze when he caught it. She knew. Lee didn't know how she had found out about it but she knew.
He cast a glance around. They were the last two here – not surprising, that late at night. There were the guards by the door, of course, but they were outside and couldn't hear what was spoken in here. Lee put his hands in his pockets and sauntered over to Francine's desk.
"Working late?" he asked and glanced at the paperwork on her desk. "What's that?"
"The preliminary schedule for the visit of Prince Rheza Khan and his wife next week", she told him without looking up. "The locations have to be checked and secured if necessary."
Lee nodded.
"You running security on that one?" he asked.
"No, he's got his own security squad with him. We're just helping out."
"I see."
He remained standing by Francine, looking over her shoulder at the schedule. He could have left – and maybe he should – but for some reason he lingered. Finally, Francine turned round to him with an exasperated look on her face.
"What?" she asked.
Lee raised his eyebrows.
"What what?"
"What do you want? Why are you still here? Shouldn't you be somewhere out there with your girlfriend of the week to prove to her and yourself that Amanda King has no idea what she's talking of? Stop breathing down my neck and go!"
She made a shooing gesture with her hand.
Lee winced.
"So you know", he said. "About Ricky Joe, I mean."
Francine laughed.
"Of course I know. This is an intelligence agency. It's all over the steno pool. Don't worry, though –"
She closed the file, put it aside and grabbed her purse.
"The consensus is that Amanda King very obviously has no idea what she's talking of so you should be good."
She stepped around Lee and started towards the exit.
Lee turned to look after her.
"Francine!" he called when she had almost reached the door.
"Hm?"
She stopped and turned back to him.
"What do you think? As someone who does know what they're talking of?"
Lee regretted asking the moment the words left his mouth. Why would he ask at all? It wasn't like he needed reassurance, right? And Francine, of all people …
Well, at least I'll know she be mercilessly honest …
Francine arched her eyebrows.
"Really?" she asked and it was impossible not to hear the amusement in her voice. "You're seriously asking me to – what? Rate your bedroom performance?"
Lee just gave her his best kicked puppy look. Now that he had started it the best thing was to get this over with as fast as possible, right?
Francine sighed and shook her head.
"Guys", she muttered, and louder: "Fine. But you asked for it, so – no complaints."
Lee waited.
"Let's see", she went on. "On a scale from one to ten, I'd give you –"
She pursed her lips and thought for a moment.
"An eight", she said with a bright smile.
"An eight."
Lee's eyebrows went up at that.
"You're giving me an eight."
Francine nodded, still smiling.
He gave an incredulous laugh.
"C'mon, Francine, an eight? Really?"
She rolled her eyes.
"Oh well. Eight point five then."
Eight point five.
She's got to be kidding. I'm not an eight point five!
His thoughts must have shown on his face. Francine shrugged.
"Well, you wanted to know", she said.
"Yes, sure, but – eight point five? Seriously?"
He still couldn't believe it. Nine point five – yes, that would have been okay. No one was perfect, after all. Eight point five …
"As my old French teacher used to say: I never give top grades just in case someone comes along and does it better."
Lee felt his jaw drop.
Francine gave him a sassy grin and a wink and turned away again to leave. Just before she did, she stopped and turned again.
"Oh, if it's any consolation", she said. "As far as looks go, you're definitely an eleven."
Lee grabbed an eraser from her desk and lifted it as if to throw it.
"Get out, you!"
Francine escaped with a laugh.
Lee shook his head and put the eraser down.
"Eight point five."
Well, she was right, he had asked for it.
