"Whatever you do, please don’t answer the phone. Just let it ring and have whoever calls leave a message. I’m tired, worn out, hadn’t had any sleep for the past 52 hours, and I want to get some rest, before I have to crawl on the plane. I don’t sleep on planes no matter how tired I am, and that plane ride to Namibia is a total of 24 hours in the air, plus terminal time in San Antonio, Atlanta and Jo’berg. So I’m telling you again, don’t answer the phone. Beside I left a recorded message telling whoever calls, that I’m gone out of the country, won’t be returning phone calls for at least a month, and to essentially leave me alone, at least until I get back from hunting kudu!" said he to his secretary who was sorta rolling her eyes like she had heard all this same stuff before.
"The last thing I need is a problem from one of my clients that will cause me problems. After I’m out of the country, they’ll have to solve some of their doings!"
The secretary smiled and sort of mockingly wagged her head. Truth was if she wasn’t his sister-in-law he’d have long ago fired her for sassiness. But, admittedly she came from an influential family (and his wife insisted hire her older sister, who when the "company" first started was badly in need of a job. And too, she was pretty pleasing to look at and had a phone voice and presence that caused male from throughout the country just to hear her talk. But she did know just which buttons to push to sometimes downright exasperate him, such as just now.
"Don’t forget you passport. I made certain it was up to date. Had to get you a new one since you let the old one expire," came a sweet sounding voice from the next room. "Also, don’t forget I stuck your Customs form for your rifle in you billfold, between my picture and the girls." She continued. He wondered what he’d do without his wife who kept him on an even keel.
"Guess she does still care for, otherwise, she’d not want me coming back," he thought out loud without thinking.
"What’d you say?"
"Said Thank you, can’t wait to leave but also can’t wait to get back."
Just then the telephone rang and before it could jingle a second time, the secretary picked it up, "Swash and Shangle, attorneys at law, may we help you?" Then she listened intently for a few moments, smiling at Jeff Shangle who was backing up, making horrible faces at her and making like he was pushing her away, but from a distance. "Why yes Mrs. Finkle, Jeff is still here. Just a moment, I’ll get him for you."
Jeff Shangle, dressed in hunting clothes; loden khaki type pants, a similar colored long-sleeved shirt and his shooting vest, topped of with a brown western hat made a pained face, swore under his breath at Laura who was handing him the phone.
He was caught, what could he do? The Finkle family was one of his best clients, and also a major contributor (without realizing it) to his African Safari fun. But good and well-paying clients that they were, they could also at times be as serious pain in the area well behind the bellybutton!
Jeff listening intently, yet at the same time was messing with his camera, binoculars, and several hunting magazines he hoped to read on the plane, packing his carry-on bag.
Same old story! Vestor Finkle was at it again.
"Yes, Mrs. Finkle," Jeff shook his head, rolled his eyes, "Yes of course Mrs. Finkle, I’ll get right on it," more eye rolling, "No ‘am, it’s no problem, my plane doesn’t leave for Africa until 6:oo am tomorrow morning. That should still give me plenty of time to take care of things for you."
By the time he hung up the phone Jeff Shangle was red-faced. As he turned toward Laura, he spoke softly and sweetly to his wife in the next room "Dear, do you mind running upstairs to my secret place and getting a couple of thousand out of the safe for me to take with me. Promise I’ll bring you some "spangly things" back from Africa if you do." Soon as he heard his wife close the door behind her…"If you ever again answer the phone when I tell you not to, I don’t care who you are, what I have to deal with the rest of my life from my wife, I’m going to fire you and tell everyone here in our little fair southern city that you’re a yankee spy, sent down here to destroy our way of life. I don’t care even if they know you were born and raised here....I’ll make it a point to tell them that when everyone thought you were at Auburn, that you were actually not at Auburn but that was a cover because at that time you were with a northern cult learning how to destroy the South! Do you hear me? NEVER AGAIN ANSWER THE PHONE IF I TELL YOU NOT TO! HEAR ME!"
Laura sort of looked up batted her eyes and continued on what she was doing when the phone rang, her nails.
"Vestor Finkle and his partner are at it again, this time over who owns their hunting camp. He wants me to drive to Texas to settle things there. There’s no way. But if I don’t go to Texas to settle this, even though I’ll meet with him tonight to talk him out of it, I could lose the Finkle family as a client. But if I do as they want me to, I’m going to have to cancel my kudu hunt in Namibia again. That’ll be the third time I’ve had to cancel the trip because some foolish Finkle deal!" spoke Jeff to no one in particular, because it was obvious his secretary certainly didn’t care. If only she had followed his orders and not picked up the phone, and simply let it to message. Confound her!
"Sir…sIR…SIR! Please bring your seat to the upright position. We’ll be landing in Windhoek in about ten minutes."
Cobwebs started clearing. "Jeff, we’re almost there, you’re dream kudu hunt is about to finally happen," came a familiar voice.
|
|
|
