Felony Jones

The Charm Offensive

Felony's eyes popped open just before noon. She laid in bed for a few minutes trying to shake the feeling of some undefined dread. It took her a few minutes to figure out what day it was. She sat up, rubbed her eyes and face before getting up and heading into the bathroom. She could hear Jeff running up and down the hall with his nails clicking as he pranced around. She made a mental note to take him to the groomers. A few minutes later she walked into the kitchen, still a bit groggy and very hungry. Toshiro was halfway through his daily routine at this point and she wasn't about to disturb his flow with a meal request. She started a pot of coffee, grabbed a couple pieces of bread and sat down at the kitchen table. Toshiro had left the patio doors open for Jeff to run in and out and the breeze felt especially good today. The weather had cooled a bit and Felony was liking it. She watched Toshiro for a few minutes as he moved around the yard in his usual precise manner until Jeff rounded the corner from the hallway, dropping his ball at her feet. Felony waited a moment before picking it up. They both liked the suspense. "You have me wrapped around your little paw, don't you?" Felony picked up the ball and threw it out the door. Jeff went off after it, whizzing by Toshiro, but he paid no attention. Felony sat in silence for a few more minutes picking at her bread, but never eating any of it, then let out a big sigh. She got up and poured some coffee in a cup and made her way across the yard and into her office. She sat down, crossed her legs and began fidgeting with her robe while she stared at the whiteboard. She got back up and wrote Max Charm's name on the right side of it, then backed up and sat down again. There they were, the cast of characters so far.

Felony drifted in and out of thoughts as the sun beat down on her, warming her body on the left side through the window as she headed to the San Fernando Valley to see Max Charm. People always made fun of the valley, but Felony didn't mind it. Sure, it was hot and always seemed to have more than its fair share of weirdos and oddballs, but it had some great parks, dive lounges and best of all, ample parking. Felony's only concern at the moment was that she had to drive there during the day, something she always grumbled about. She didn't have a choice today, it was the only time Max said he was available to talk to her and he seemed very eager to talk to her about Michael, in particular, making her suspicious. She had a strange feeling that the meeting, for him, was more about getting information than providing it. If her face to face was going to be anything like the phone call, it was going to be an unpredictable and weird sit-down. The upside was that one of the best doughnut shops anywhere was a few blocks away from his studio. She made a mental note to stop and get a dozen before she headed home. As she locked her car door, she took a quick look around the parking lot. The kind of cars, and the shape they were in, was usually a good indicator of what kind of people were in the building. It wasn't looking very good so far. When she walked through the front doors, the first thing that hit her like a brick was the stench of stale cigarette smoke, and the pungent smell of a cheap cologne she couldn't place, mixed with a heavy odor of bleach. It was nauseating for the first few minutes. Then there was the visual assault of flimsy wood paneling and dark green shag carpeting. She could never understand why anybody would put carpet in an office; offices had to have wood floors, there were no two ways about it as far as she was concerned. The smells and décor were hideous, but seemed perfect for the setting. Max Charm and his office looked just like she pictured, both oozing with sleaze and downright untouchable. Max was adorned with cheap rings and necklaces and seemed to be under the impression that the more jewelry he wore, the more it would count. He was wearing a pit-stained polyester shirt, and had an overabundance of nose hair. He was rail thin—probably from alcoholism, and stood about five foot eight or nine at the most.

Max offered Felony a drink right away, which she politely declined. He made himself one, then sat down behind an incredibly large desk, making him look even smaller than he was. The desk was organized in a very particular way—pencils, pens and the rest, all lined up according to size, and perfectly straight with the same exact amount of space in between each one. Felony understood that compulsion. He lit a cigarette, offering her one. It was the first time she could remember not having the urge to smoke. Max motioned for her to take a seat. She slowly lowered into the chair, taking a quick glance before she sat all the way down. Max leaned back in his chair, studying her for a moment then gave her a strange grin. "So, what can I do for you, sweetheart? Normally she would have gone after someone for the sweetheart remark, but she knew she was going to have to pick and choose her battles with this guy—information was the priority today. "Michael Kurlow, have you seen him?" She asked in a quick, mechanical, and demanding Eastern German way.