Serial Dial
by The British Captain of the Guard and his French Paramour.
“Just see what they say. If you have to pay I could always loan you the money.” Babbette volunteered.
“No. I don’t want to take from you. A way will present itself.” She stated then she hung up from her cell phone. Slipped it into her pants pocket since she decided pants would probably give her the balls to deal with this ball cracker. With her shoulders squared and her jacket swung over her arm Francesca Dijon was going to take care of business.
Francesca caught a ride down to the 36th precinct where the citation was issued from a fellow colleague headed in same direction. As nervous as Francesca was about facing this she couldn’t help but wonder if the dashing captain of the guard was going to be in.
Well she didn’t have to wonder long because he opened the door for her as he walked in behind her. Francesca went over to the receptionist desk to check in. While waiting she heard his name shouted.
“Malton?! My office please.” The Guard bellowed. The guard that bellowed had just as many or more medals he was wearing than Malton. Maybe he’s the boss and something can be done she thought. Annoyed the receptionist was taking so long flirting with the guy in front of her now Francesca cleared her throat. They ended their conversation and Francesca stated her case. The receptionist motioned her to be seated and someone would be right with her. The waiting made Francesca fidget restlessly. Malton came out of the other guard’s office and spied Francesca looking nervously about. Paying her no mind he walked over to his buddy and they shared a laugh. What was that about Francesca kept thinking?
Tune in next time.
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