Files, files, and more files. Billy and I worked through box after box as the days passed. We filled one notepad each, and then a second. We were on the third book each, and still have four boxes left. The dead files, as I called them internally, weren't of much use other than to show how many babies, children, and adults died for Vought's urge to create supes. The successful, but whereabouts unknown boxes were helpful in the sense that they offered the scope of how many supes were in mingling in the world without any way to trace them, but none of the files we'd gone through so far had proven fruitful in the quest to name our unknown spree killer.
The other files were successful and whereabouts known, and they were even less helpful. The names we'd found were ones that were easily verified. Through the supe pageants and Vought's countrywide placement of supes in each state. Even without the chips that The Seven were given, and the other placed supes, the others tended to be known simply because a great deal of them craved attention.
I moved to open the next box, but Billy stopped me. "We're not working through lunch, Ronnie." He pulled me to my feet and smiled down at me. "Here or-" Shrugging to show that I didn't have a preference he smiled. "Out, then."
I was slipping into my shoes, rolling my eyes at his gaze focused on my toenails again. They were pale pink, I'd tried clear, white, purple, so I was giving this 'natural' one a try. So far, nothing forced his attention away. "I swear to God, one day I'll find a color to make them boring to you." He was chuckling as he led me to his car.
Over the course of our work, and our mealtimes, we took turns picking the take out or restaurants. Today was Billy's turn and he pulled into a diner that may have made my mother pause and grab some sanitizer. I'd been here before, so I knew that looks were deceiving, because they had the best burgers in the city. And the fries? Don't get me started.
Tucking into our meals, because I swear the owner could see us coming a mile away and it took no time to get our orders, Billy brought up a subject I'd just as soon forget.
"How many days til you go up on the block?" His eyes, as always, were locked on me. I groaned, and took a long drink.
"Three," the auction was on Saturday. And trust me, I'd tried everything to get out of it, including calling the club and threatening to cancel my membership. Didn't work, since the very smug and condescending woman who answered informed me that my parents paid my membership fees and would never stop. Fuck. "Hey," I brightened up and smiled. "Why don't you 'accidentally' shoot me?"
He snorted and spit a little of his own drink out thanks to my idea. "You always do that when I'm eating or drinking, Ronnie." I handed him some napkins and he shook his head, but he was smiling. "I'm not gonna shoot you, even if there are days-"
"Oh, please," I waved him off. "Our days aren't anywhere near the irritating level they used to be, back when I wanted to throw my stapler at your head." My tone sounded wistful and his eyes were twinkling. "Throw me a bone, Butcher, shoot me so I don't have to go through with this archaic bullshit."
Friday came too soon, and I would have worked through the entire day and into the next night if I could have. Sadly, Billy seemed to be working against my hopes. "Up you get," he said, right on the dot of the time I'd usually quit. Fucking traitor. "You got to get beauty sleep so you get the highest dollar, right?" I flipped him off as I slipped into my heels. "Is that ladylike, Veronica?" It was the first time he'd used my full first name and the sound of it made my heart thump harder.
"Maybe if I'm not ladylike, they'll kick me out," I sounded breathless and sighed. "Then again, it might make me more alluring to these assholes." He chuckled. "You could still shoot me." Shaking his head, he led me out to my truck. He'd parked closer to me, as he started doing after the first week we worked together.
"Go, try to enjoy yourself, and for fuck's sake, Ronnie, fetch the highest price would ya?" I rolled my eyes and he grinned. "Woman like you should get it easily." And then he was walking away, still not saying goodbye.
The next evening I was putting the finishing touches on my hair and makeup when my phone rang. I knew who it was before I glanced at the screen, but it didn't stop my sigh. "Yes, Mother?" I answered.
"Veronica, is that really how you answer the phone?" No, when it's someone other than my mother, I'm polite, I thought. "We're sending a car for you," I started to protest but she cut me off. "That vehicle," said in the same tone as one might 'that dog turd', "you drive is far too high up and I think a lady should exit a car with grace, not a jump." My eyes were going to get stuck in the top of my head, I just fucking knew it. "Don't rush, I just wanted you to know that the car will be there soon."
"Duly noted, Mother." I used the tip of my finger to wipe away a speck of mascara that dared to smear. "I'm almost ready anyway."
"I do hope you chose a suitable dress, and please tell me your toenails are a normal color?" I glanced down at my toes, the polish bottle called it 'mermaid green', so normal for The Deep? "Especially if you plan on wearing open toed shoes." I glanced at the strappy heels I'd chosen and grinned. "I'll never understand-"
"If you don't let me hang up, Mother, then I won't make it within the required 'decent' arrival window." She sighed, loud and long, but let me hang up. I rolled my shoulders and prayed against prayer that I would be one of the first on the block and that I could leave early.
A final look in the mirror once I had my shoes on confirmed that I looked presentable. The dress code for these things were always the same. Evening dresses, updos, and heels. Boring, boredom, bored. The dress I had on would make my mother sigh, but it looked good on me, and if I had to dress up then why not pick something flattering?
Held up by one thin strap, form fitting to the floor, with a slit showing ample leg (even if mine were short, they were toned). Black, because it was classic, and satin because I loved the way the fabric felt on my skin. The shoes I was happy to see, showcased the glittery green of my toenails. My makeup was only slightly more dramatic than I wore to work, my hair was twisted in contrasting waves into an updo. No jewelry, the dress needed no enhancement, but a small clutch with the usual necessities, including my house key, badge, office key fob, and cellphone.
The driver was waiting in my driveway, and he quickly opened the door for me while I locked up. And even with all the attention I put into my appearance, I really fucking hoped the evening would end quickly. Really truly, please.
The club. What could be said about it? Pretentious. That was one word for it. Filled to the brim with smug, condescending assholes with too much money and not enough empathy worked too, though a bit wordy. The driver got to stay behind the wheel as a valet rushed forward to open my door. Stepping carefully out, I sighed. This was going to be a long night, I just knew it.
John Alan Erickson was the highest bidder for my company during a meal that I was more than certain would be more torture than a root canal without anesthesia. He looked exactly how every other man who had won the bidding for me in the past, just a touch older than the ones that came before.
Tall, thin, wearing a well cut suit, and looking for all the world like a banker or something that would make my ears bleed as he inundated me with all the ins and outs of it during the meal I was now forced to share with him in the near future. I smiled through the introduction, knowing that I had at least two avid stalkers. My parents, standing just out of slapping range, watched as I nodded and smiled. Smile, nod, nod, smile. John didn't need my active participation in the conversation, or monologue he was giving. I nearly danced out of my shoes when my cell phone rang loudly inside my clutch. Thank the fucking-
"Hello?" I answered, holding a single finger up to shush John who looked like he was going to tell me how rude I was to take a call during his speech. It was Billy Butcher and I felt like hugging him for telling me that I was needed at the office, pronto. "I'll have to ask the driver my parents hired, but I should be there-"
"No need, Ronnie, I'm outside." My smile grew. My fucking hero. "Tell those cunts that you have a prior engagement and get your ass outside."
"I'll be there in a moment." I offered the slimmest of excuses to John and my parents who had come over to smooth his ruffled feathers. "Work calls."
"Honestly, Veronica," my mother admonished, but too bad. "Couldn't you just-"
"No, I can't." I was firm. "I have to go, it was nice meeting you, John. Mother will give you my number so we can finalize dinner plans." And then, without another word, I left.
I didn't run, although it was a fucking close one, and seeing Billy Butcher waiting in a car that was making the valets take second looks at make my grin grow. I didn't wait for the valet to make up his mind about the car, yanking open the passenger door and getting in, I told him to get me out of there.