“Hi. Yes. Do you have freshly squeezed orange juice?”
“Yes, we do.”
“Great. I’ll have a glass of that.”
“Certainly. Would you like to see the breakfast menu or are you going to help yourself to the buffet table?”
I looked across to the breakfast buffet. Ugh. I wasn’t terribly keen on picking through food that had been lying out there for a while. Who knew what the people before me did to it?
“I’ll have a look at the menu, thanks.”
“I know what you mean,” he said and winked at me, clearly recognizing a fellow food hygiene fusspot. Then he gave me a menu.
“Thanks,” I smiled.
I settled on a mushroom and cheese omelet with sourdough toast. The food was beautifully presented, with micro herbs on the side. It tasted delicious.
I noticed, while I was eating my fabulous omelet, a man sitting a few tables away from me. He was looking intently at me. Not that men hadn’t stared at me before, but something about this one’s mannerisms made me uncomfortable. He had an intense look about him. I tried to ignore him at first, but I found myself checking every so often whether he had gone. Unfortunately, he lingered.
Marvelous. Just what I needed. A stranger with a fetish for pregnant women. What was his fucking problem? I decided to look him straight in the eyes–show him that I wasn’t a weakling. Perhaps that would scare him off. But, to my dismay, he got up and walked over to my table.
I was about to get up and leave when he spoke up.
“Miss. Harris.”
It was a statement, not a question.
Hang on! How did he know my name?
“I apologize. I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said when he saw the look of surprise and semi-panic on my face.
“Who are you? How do you know my name?”
“May I sit?”
“No, you may not. Who are you?”
“I think it’s better if I sit. We don’t want to attract unwanted attention.”
What the fuck? He sat down and spoke in a calm, steady voice.
“Miss. Harris, my name is Agent Stevens. DEA.”
DEA! I couldn’t feel my legs, so I sat back down. It was more of a flop than a controlled descent into the chair.
“I imagine you must be taken aback. Again, apologies for the intrusion.”
Did I risk it and play possum? I knew what he wanted from me. The Drug Enforcement Agency didn’t hang around hotel breakfast buffets for nothing.
Play it cool, Angel. Don’t panic.
“I don’t understand, Agent Stevens. Why is the DEA talking to me?”
Your move, Stevens. Do I know? Don’t I know? Bet you’re crapping your pants as much as I am right now.
“I’d like to talk to you about your place of employment, Miss. Harris.”
“What about it?”And stop saying my fucking name like that.