The Odd Ballerz by Ruthie Robinson Page B

afternoon. She removed her lunch, purse, and laptop from the passenger seat of her car before locking it. A quick trip across the parking lot would deliver her to the front door of her office. She was starving and eager to dive into the salad she’d picked up on the drive here.
    She had been an insurance agent for the last ten years, and here at this location for the last five. A freestanding, small brick building was home to Foundation Insurance Agency. “The bedrock of your life” was its motto. The location was ideal, situated between two major car dealerships, both of which were great clients of hers. She had worked hard to make sure she was the first person they thought of for their insurance needs.
    It was some kind of hot outside today, she thought, glad to have worn a light summer dress. She dressed to impress and she loved clothes designed specifically with her taste and figure, all courtesy of Frankie of the Frankie’s House of Fashion fame; a young local seamstress Memphis had met long ago while taking classes at the local junior college. Frankie had opened a shop of her own, and Memphis had become a walking billboard for her designs.
    “Aubrey’s on her way in,” Amanda, her assistant, said, greeting her at the front door. “She called ten minutes ago, so there is still time for you to turn around and leave,” she said, glancing out the window. “Nope, too late, she’s parking. You’ll have to sneak out the back if you have any hope of missing her now,” Amanda said, staring out of the front window. Memphis turned to look, and yes, Aubrey was parking her cute little Mini Cooper in the empty spot besides her Xterra.
    “I don’t understand what you have against her,” Memphis said.
    “It’s a feeling and I’m out—lunch—be back in an hour.”
    “Perfect timing for you.”
    “Exactly,” Amanda said, and winked, reaching for her purse. Amanda was another clothes horse. It wasn’t worth wearing if it wasn’t designer label, although high-end-store, cost-a-fortune designer clothes were Amanda’s preference.
    “See you later,” Memphis said, scanning the room on the way to her office in the back. She wanted to put her purse and laptop away before she took over manning the front desk.
    She liked her office. She was leasing it and the owner had recently renovated, giving it a more modern look. The large floor to ceiling windows at the front of the building allowed plenty sun to shine into the main room of a three-room office space. A big sofa—wheat colored, sat immediately to the right of the front door. Mahogany and green throw pillows lay against the sofa, matching the color of the faux-treated walls. All of it worked together perfectly with the oak wood floors to create a warm, and hospitable space.
    The receptionist counter, a.k.a. Amanda’s corner, was to the left of the door. It had been raised a foot above the rest of the room. A large wraparound counter that reminded Memphis of an airplane’s cockpit sat between Amanda and their customers. A hallway led away from the main room to a small kitchen and then to her office.
    Memphis was standing beside the desk in her office now, stuffing her purse into a drawer. She had to bend to do it, and the screaming from her muscles reminded her of her recent athletic activities. She ached everywhere, it seemed.
    She walked back to the front room, carrying her salad. She usually sat at Amanda’s desk when she was filling in for her. Today it was a detour over to the front door, where Amanda stood outside on the sidewalk, engaged in conversations with her friend. She hadn’t escaped after all.
    “Hey,” Memphis said, holding the door open for Aubrey. They had been friends since grade school, had lived next door to each other growing up, but really it wasn’t until Memphis’s dad passed and her mother sort of gave up on life that she and Aubrey had become close. Aubrey had followed her into the insurance business.
    “Guess what?” Aubrey