Tainted Waters

Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Keegan flashed his sultry, full-watt smile, at least that's what he'd been told by some of his dates and which he knew would only make him look pathetic given his latest get-up. The fifty-something-year-old receptionist, who was trying desperately to look thirty, was the perfect person for him to ask for help. She'd dyed her hair jet-black, washing her white face out to a kind of Gothic or almost-ready-for-the-morgue look. The bright red lipstick and two slashes of makeup on her cheeks, however, made her look more like she was wearing a mask for Halloween.

"Hi. I'm Tim Stalton. I'm new in town." He rested his elbow on the top of her desk, placing his chin on his thumb and forefinger, giving her his full attention.

She put up her finger as she hit a button on the phone and spoke into the microphone sitting on her head. "Hello, Tennison Post. How may I help you?" She talked for a few more minutes to the person.

"Just a moment, please." She punched in some numbers and then moved the mic up over her head, giving him a wary look.

"You're fantastic at that. Very efficient. I'm impressed. You make your job look so easy, but I bet it isn't."

"Oh. I …"

Keegan beamed at her like she was brilliant, and he was in awe of her.

"Thank you. No one ever really notices. When you're good, they only look when you make a mistake."

"I know. Sad isn't it. Let me tell you, you're very good. What's your name?"

"Suzanne."

"Pretty name."

As another call came in, she flipped her index finger up, indicating she needed him to be quiet and wait. He took the few moments she was distracted to see if she had anything of interest on her desk. Other than the computer, which was situated so he couldn't read the screen and a few sheets of paper that she'd flipped over when he'd stepped up, it was empty.

"So, what can I help you with?"

Keegan stood up. He looked around as though checking for anyone near, then he leaned over and whispered for her ears alone, "I'm an author. You might have heard of me, I was on Oprah, several years ago."

"Really? What's she like? Is she really as nice as she seems? She's really a good person, right?"

"Uh … yeah. But it was years ago." He didn't even have a clue if she was still on TV. "She's amazing."

"Wow. And you're an author? And you've been on Oprah. That is amazing. Oprah for crying out loud. I've never met anyone who actually met her. Oprah—"

"Yeah. Sshhhhhh." He glanced over his shoulder. "I really would like to keep it quiet. Okay?" He looked at her, pleadingly. He realized maybe he should have thought that through more.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I guess being famous has its downfalls. And everyone wants a piece of you. Not you but you because you know her. Right?"

"Yes. You understand. Thank you. I really don't want to be mobbed. It makes it hard to do research or get anything done. I'm sure you know what I mean."

She leaned forward, just enough to give him a good view down her deep V-neck shirt. He gave the view a cursory glance before looking at her guiltily. She smiled at him coyly.

"I really need to meet with mister … the head guy, I forget his name. I'm so embarrassed."

"You mean Mr. Donner?"

He beamed at her. "That's it. I really need to meet with him. I need some material for my latest book. It helps to hear about true stories and then I can change them into funny everyday things that people would do."

"Is that how you get your stories? That's brilliant. What's your new book going to be called?"

He looked torn. "I can't … I mean …"

"Oh. It's okay. I understand. If that got out—"

"Thank you for understanding. Would it be possible to see Mr. Donner now?"

She pressed her lips together into a fine line, clicked on her computer, typed in a few commands, frowned, and then put her mic back in place. She pressed a button.

"Mr. Donner. I have an author here who would like some time with you." She paused. "Yes. I'm sure he does. Would now work for you?

"All right. Sure. I'll send him right up." She clicked off the phone.

"You can go up. His office is on the fifth floor—room 521."

"Thank you." Keegan started walking away, then turned and walked right back. He leaned over the desk. "Thank you so much for helping me. I'd like to repay you." He ignored the light flush that crept up her chest and over her cheeks. "How about I bring you a signed copy of my new book when it comes out?"

She smiled half-heartedly.

"I know it's not much, but I could also tell you all about Oprah?"

"I would love that. Oh, wow. That would be—"

"All right. Consider it done." He winked at her as he turned; only rolling his eyes once the elevator doors had closed. He'd have to call his cousin's girlfriend to fill him in on Oprah, or he could hope that Suzanne had a short memory.