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CHAPTER 2
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For a week, cat calls and wolf whistles resonated throughout the office every time Artie walked in. At first he scowled and muttered under his breath at the jokes they made at his expense. He growled loudest at Myka who usually championed him when no one else would, but even she couldn't resist telling him how hot he looked in his FISHing outfit.
This invariably made him want to duck and cover…mostly cover…and walk out of the room, which he did if he was able to. Unfortunately, Claudia had learned his routine quickly and would block the doorway out to the Warehouse floor. On one such occasion, he tried bullying his way past her, snarling and glowering like a rabid pit bull, but she simply planted both slender hands on his chest and, while suggestively batting her eyelashes, blew air kisses at him. He immediately blanched and backed away.
The next time, it was Myka. Shame on her, he thought to himself as the behavior spread like wildfire. Then to his ultimate horror, Pete was next, smiling lewdly throughout most of the brief encounter. That was simply too much. Lighter on his feet than most people would have assumed, he danced his way around them all and charged down the umbilicus instead. He'd hopped in his Jaguar, spraying dirt everywhere, and roared back to Leena's. He holed up in his room, refusing to come out until they came to their senses and treated him with the respect he deserved. According to them, he was getting exactly what he deserved, so the cease and desist order didn't work.
Ultimately, that meant he set the Warehouse on what passed for 'auto pilot' and stayed sequestered in his room, presumably enjoying the solitude. They assumed he was catching up on his reading and enjoying an endless stream of visual entertainment. They knew this because Pete had eavesdropped on several occasions and could hear the voices of recognizable movies steadily blaring through the solid wood door.
What did surprise them was that, after two days, he never showed for meals. Knowing Artie's fondness for being prepared and an equally great fondness for snacking, Myka reasoned he probably maintained a stash of non-perishable foods up there.
The only time that room went silent was between bedtime and the general hour he usually woke up.
It wasn't until Mrs. Frederic, purveyor of the evil eye, showed up and chastised each and every one of them for their childish behavior that things started to calm down. Berated into submission they all sat in the living room, quietly, hoping to escape further notice as the grand High Poobah of their little operation went upstairs to have words with Artie.
She came downstairs a few moments later, more sour-faced than they thought possible.
"Where's Arthur?" she inquired civilly but with tightly restrained anger.
"Upstairs," Claudia blurt out without thinking.
"He is most decidedly not upstairs," the stern-faced African American woman declared in a tight voice.
"But we hear—" Pete started to reply.
At that moment, the front door opened, and a whistling Artie strolled in. "Mrs. Frederic," he stated pleasant as he pulled the magnetically attached sunglasses off his regular spectacles. "To what do we owe this honor?"
"We were just wondering where you were, since your compatriots were under the impression that you were upstairs, but clearly you were not," their superior calmly replied.
"What gave them that idea?" he asked with just the hint of smile. "I was-
"Yo, dude, the TV was on until you went to bed and came back on this morning," Claudia interjected.
"Interval Timer, dude," Artie answered, emphasizing the last word.
This time Myka just had to cut in. "So if you weren't here, sneaky by the way, and you weren't at the Warehouse, we did check you know, where the heck were you?"
Pointing in the general direction of the 'outside', Artie replied, "At my place," as if that explained it all.
'His place?' Mouthed Pete to Myka. Then he leaned closer to his partner and whispered. "I didn't even know he had a place other than here."
Mrs. Frederic hid a smile. This kind of camaraderie among coworkers could be decidedly unproductive and distracting but it also reflected the kind of bond that ultimately made them all a better team. Therefore, she effectively hid her grin, and since the others had already experienced the Wrath of Frederic, turned a scowl on Artie.
"You are far too old to be playing these kinds of games, Arthur, and you, of all people, should know better."
"Not to worry, Mrs. Frederic." Artie's half smile faded into a more somber expression and he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I remotely activated the monitoring systems of the Warehouse. Pete, Myka and Claudia are experienced enough to periodically check up on it, and I know Claudia did because my alarm system alerted me to changes in the condition there. A few quick key commands, a few swipes at the touch tablet, and every move she made showed up on my home computer."
His fingers made deft movements, pantomiming in unison to his explanation. Then he paused, idly ran two fingers through his goatee, and glanced at the teenager with an obvious twinkle in his brown eyes before facing Mrs. Frederic again. "I installed it myself several years ago and it functions quite nicely thank you very much."
For a brief couple of seconds, Mrs. Frederic appeared to want to pursue the matter but thought better of it. "Very well, Arthur. Clearly you are on top of things." She looked at the others with hard eyes. "I don't know what provoked this but I hope it will cease as of this very moment. You are adults, so act like it."
"Yes, ma'am," they all replied apologetically.
"Please follow me. I'd like to talk to you," the liaison between Warehouse and Regents stated, brooking no argument. Looking mildly fearful, Artie followed her outside.
"So not gonna happen," Pete muttered to Claudia as soon as the door closed. "I can't act like an adult on a good day and this wasn't even close to being one of those."
Giggling, Claudia gave him a high five. "Hell, you said it. Besides, I got a built in excuse. I'm a hormonal teenager. Acting like a child comes with the territory." She did a little dance, pirouetted, and poked him in the side with both fingers. "And I'll tell ya something else, no matter what, I'm never gonna be too old to antagonize Artie. Annoying him is about the only decent entertainment we have around here."
Myka laughed at that, knowing only too well that Univille was probably a candidate for the Most-Boring-Town-in-the-Universe award. Some days, despite her more serious nature, even she did some pretty strange things to keep from going stir crazy.
When Artie returned, his face was a stolid mask. He looked mildly displeased, which usually meant that he'd just gotten news he didn't particularly care for, news that was Warehouse related, something he had to work on…soon…and the leads weren't the best.
As he walked up the stairs, he shot a tense look at his trio of coworkers. "Warehouse, thirty minutes. I've got research to do." And then he was gone.
