She flops back, raising both hands at once and flipping me the bird with both fingers. Dark red. Not a match.
“Thank you for your cooperation, ladies,” I mutter in my most professional tone, then pivot. Kirkman is leaning against the door jamb with his shoulders, holding a cigarette between two fingers and a lighter in the other. He raises one eyebrow at me as I approach.
“You get what you needed?”
“I need to talk to you,” I inform him.
He follows me toward the kitchenette, and I start a pot of coffee because I'm a goddamn gentleman.
“They’re on the manifest and everything, right?” he announces. “See? I listen.”
“Yes, I appreciate your compliance.”
“So what's the problem?”
I spray the counter with a bleach solution and wipe it with a paper towel. I'd like to be able to lean on something here without picking up a disease or film of dirt or anything.
“You're all over the Internet again, man,” I shrug, finally turning around. “But it's not them. Those two didn't do anything, as far as I can tell.”
“Well I’ve only been fucking approved pussy. So much for your manifest!”
“It's not them. Somebody else.”
“Then who?”
“My best guess is it's the same woman as before. Does this ring any bells?”
I pick up the picture on my cell phone and hold it out to him. He crosses his arms and shuffles forward, scowling as he squints.
“How would I fucking know?”
“Well, that is your dick, right? You recognize it, I presume?”
“Yeah, but I have it with me every day.”
I grind my teeth, hoping to bite back the frustration that's rising in me.
“That's not helpful.”
“I'm not trying to be helpful,” he shrugs. “It's not my job. It's yours.”
“So… those hands? The rings? Blue nail polish? Any of that ring a bell?”
He shuffles toward the coffee pot with his hand out, scowling as though he's actually trying to help figure this out. After a few moments he finally shakes his head.
“Wish I could help you, man. No idea. I mean, I know where my dick was last night, and it wasn't in those hands. Other than that, it’s all news to me too.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I bark, slapping my palm down on the counter. A group of mugs jumps in place from the impact.
“Calm down, man. It's too early for this shit.”
“It's noon, Kirkman. And you need to start taking this seriously. You're only here for another week. And then I'll be rid of you. But between now and then, could you please try to keep your shit together?”
He sighs, drinking coffee down in three large gulps.
“Dude, I'm just gonna do my job. Okay? I can’t help what other people do. But I can tell you that whatever this is, it's not new. Didn't happen yesterday, so it's your ongoing problem. You fix it, all right? I have got shit to do.”
Despite it what an asshole this guy is, he has still got a point. It is my job. I need to get a grip on this.