A/N: I've been working on this story for a while now, just trying to get the introduction perfect, and well, I haven't quite made it perfect, but if I tweak it any more it's going to fall apart, so I decided to post it.
Disclaimer: Most of the Characters aren't mine, a few of them are, but the world they are living in is the property of Janet. I am simply taking them out for icecream. :)
A Company Affair
Chapter 1: The Morning
My morning is perfectly timed down to the minute. At five thirty my alarm sounds, blaringly loud right next to my head and my hand shoots out without thought and hits the snooze button. Exactly seven minutes later I am again woken from my slumber by the infernal racket on my nightstand. This time I hit the off button, stumble out of bed and into a pair of running shorts and a sports bra. I move to the dressing table pull a brush through my hair straight brown and shove it into a pony tail and under a cap. Grabbing a previously prepared drink bottle off the side table in the hall at five-forty-five I head out onto my front lawn to stretch. Five minutes later I am pounding the pavement on my way to the high school where I do thirty laps of the oval at a run, taking me an hour. I then slow to a jog and make my way back home. It takes seventeen minutes to jog home from the school, I then stand under the spray of the shower for half an hour until I'm sure all the sweat is gone and my shoulders have relaxed.
At seven-forty-four I shut off the shower and wrap a towel around my body and hair. Making my way through to the kitchen I flick the kettle on to boil and slide a waffle into the toaster before returning to my bedroom to do the hair thing. There's not a lot I can to with my hair, so I brush it and put it back into a ponytail. At seven forty-nine the toaster pops and the kettle boils, I realise that there isn't enough water in the kettle and add some more and set it to re boil again while I dress and eat my waffle. When I'm through in the kitchen, having had two cups of coffee, it is eight-thirteen and I return to my bedroom to choose clothes for the day. It's such a hard decision; I have to decide between shorts or long pants; that takes me three minutes. When I've made that decision I then have to decide between cargoes or business. With that sorted I move onto the top half where it gets a little trickier; long sleeves, short sleeves, no sleeves, then business or street, then depending on whether I choose business or street I may then have to choose between polo or t-shirt. Luckily the colour is already sorted, otherwise I may never have made it out of the bedroom and to work. Everything was black and embroidered with the company logo, Rangeman, (also in black.) This seemingly simply task takes exactly thirty-three minutes. Having chosen actual clothes I then have to make a choice regarding my foot covering, boots, sneakers or dress shoes. Usually the outfit I choose makes with decision, which cuts back on time significantly.
So when ten to nine rolls around I'm strapping on my gun in its holster, cell phone, and key fob and realising that I have not yet put my face on. Running short on time I swipe on some smoky eye shadow and a couple coats of confidence, (this was a trait I had inherited from my mother.) I glance at the clock at five to nine and hastily grab my lip gloss and run to my car. Stuck at a red light at eight-fifty-seven I don my lip gloss in the rear view mirror, chucking the tube to the seat when the lights change. The clock rolls over to three minutes past nine as I pull into my parking space and climb out. I hit the button for the elevator three times at intervals of two seconds before abandoning it and taking the stairs to the fourth floor.
I sit down at my desk at exactly five past nine, which also happens to be five minutes late, at the very moment when my coffee is set down next to my mouse pad. I thank the office assistant, whose name I can never remember, and open my email. After five minutes of perusing the usual boring reminders.
So there you have it, my morning routine in a nutshell.
My name is Peigi Anne Manoso and I work for my father's security/bond enforcement company, Rangeman. I've worked here officially since I was fourteen, but unofficially I've been working here since I was three, I think it was safe to say that I knew this place inside and out. I had to work my way up through the scunge ladder, but last year, on my twenty-fourth birthday I was awarded a spot on the A-team. Not far behind me was Sean Brown, better known as Sonar, he's the son of one Dad's original A-team members, Bobby, whom I've known since before I remember. It was no secret that Sonar and I were an item, but we tried to keep things professional in the building.
I still remember the day Sonar and I met, back then he still went by Sean though. It wasn't long after Dad had put me on the payroll during my summer vacation when Bobby came into work exclaiming that his son had been kidnapped. Personally I didn't even know that Bobby had a son, I guess he was just secretive like the rest of them. Most of the employees had been sent to search and I was left in the building to man the phones and monitors with just mum. Mum didn't like that she had been left behind, but had learned to accept things as they came and I followed her lead.
So we were the only ones in the entire building all that day until the night fill guys came in a seven. Mum drove me home, picking up Emmet from his friends house on the way and fixed us dinner. Dad arrived home a little after ten to inform us that there was no sign of him yet. We went to bed and the next day did it all over again, except Emmet was with us. Just the three of us sitting around staring at a bunch of screens all day. We were still hanging around at eight o'clock when one of the search teams burst in with what I assumed to be the kidnapper and the kidnapped. They split up when they reached the control room, two of them going to the conference room with the kidnapped and two of them going to the isolation chamber with the kidnapper.
The moment they entered the room, we all sprang into action, hurrying to the kitchen to grab a bowl of hot water and a face washer. I trailed after her grabbing two juice boxes and protein bars from the cupboard. Emmet was bringing up the rear with the first aid kit. It was safe to say that we were efficient.
As mum set to work cleaning up the boy who looked to be around my age, I offered him a juice box and protein bar. He accepted them gratefully, mumbling something about not having eaten in two days. As he ate and drank I opened the other juice box for myself and drank it. When he finished his he was eyeing off the other protein bar.
"Would you like it?" I asked him. He nodded, not meeting my eyes and took from the table when I told him to. "What happened?" I asked as Mum stretched bandaids over the cuts on his legs.
He looked uncomfortable for several moments and I thought he wasn't going to answer me, but eventually he did. From there we just kept talking until Bobby arrived.
The next holidays, Sean took on a part time job at Rangeman, doing pretty much the same thing as I was and we got to know each other really well. Now here we were ten year on and we were an item. I tell you, it was fate that he was kidnapped. I wouldn't have wished it upon him, but it did bring about the best friendship either of us had ever known.
As I finished up with my emails my desk phone rang, and I knew exactly who it would be. Trying desperately to suppress the smile that was threatening to climb onto my face I picked up the receiver and made my greeting, "Welcome to Rangeman, Peigi Manoso speaking, how may I help you?"
"You're late," came Sean's reply, a hint of laughter in his voice. "And you knew it was me calling, Peigi."
"Yes I did, but I can't get it to you at the moment," I teased. He was on field today so it was okay for him to be free with his words, but I had to watch what I said.
"I just called to ask what you were doing for dinner tonight, I thought maybe you wanted to get together?"
"Yes I'm free then." Sometimes conversations got complicated when you were holding them in a crowded office.
"I'll pick you up at eight then," he said, laughing a little.
"I'll pencil you in so I don't forget," I assured him.
"Wear something nice," he told me.
"Okay, thank you for that. I'll see you then." With that I hung up and turned my attention to actual work. I fired up a search engine for a background check and history on my latest case and sipped my coffee. While the search ran I checked through my inbox. Again, it was just the usual stuff, a couple of quick cases for the week, a request for a progress report on a long running case, and right at the bottom a message from my mother. It was short and highly illegible to anyone without years of practice, I could read it just fine.
"Peigi, Lunch, Seventh floor, 11.30, Love Mum." I smiled with affection. My mother was one of the few people in the building who did not use the twenty-four hour clock. I, myself, slipped in and out of the habit, having grown up with my mother using civilian times and my father using army times. It could get confusing, but most of the men were used to it by now.
Well I hope you like it so far. It's been bugging me, so I appreciate any feedback you can give me. Don't forget to review!
