Free Wanna Get Lucky? by Deborah Coonts

was leaning over to insert the appropriate key in the lock when the door flew open.
    I leapt back.
    Miss Patterson stood there looking at me with that damn inscrutable expression of hers. “The door was open.”
    “I thought I told you I didn’t want to see your face for twelve hours.” I brushed past her.
    She followed me into my office. “And good morning to you, too.” She took my Birkin and deposited it in the closet. “You have an appointment . . .” she glanced at the clock “. . . in three minutes, with the Most Reverend Peterson J. Peabody. Security has been calling. They want to know if they should give Reverend Peabody his clothes or should they bring him ‘as is.’ ”
    “The
Most
Reverend?”
    Miss Patterson nodded, this time a fleeting wisp of a smile on her face.
    “Oh, give him his clothes. I’m evil, but I’m not mean. Besides, it’s way too early to see Reverend Peabody in his altogether again.”
    “I’ll get you some coffee.”
    “After Reverend Peabody, I don’t have anything else until two, right?”
    “Right, the Beautiful Jeremy Whitlock at two, then your friends from Hollywood are due to arrive around three, with the Trend-makers shortly thereafter.”
    “Ah yes, how could I forget?” I walked over to my closet and opened the door. “Let me know when Reverend Peabody arrives.”
    I stared at my reflection in the full-length mirror that hung on the back of the closet door. Teddie had kept me until the last possible minute. I’d had to race to get ready and out the door. I definitely looked like I’d had three hours of sleep, but I was semipresentable in my new Diane Von Furstenburg wrap dress and sassy little sandals—another day saved by good clothes. The hair was a bit wild, and the makeup—well, I’d have to get Teddie’s help there, too.
    Satisfied I wasn’t going to scare anyone, I shut the closet and retreated behind my desk. Miss Patterson, bless her, had set a cup of steaming java next to a stack of papers sitting there—I didn’t remember the pile being so high last night. I grabbed the papers and a pen, hunched over my desk and started in on the day.
    I had almost made it through the lot when my intercom buzzed and Miss Patterson announced the Most Reverend Peabody’s arrival. I depressed the intercom switch. “Show him in.” I rose and smoothed my dress as I stepped around my desk to greet my guest. I had never met a Most Reverend before.
    As the door opened, I extended my hand. “Reverend Peabody.” I tried to keep my eyes focused on his face. For some reason, I was a bit embarrassed. Sorta like when you face a one-night stand the morning after.
    I already knew he was a big man, but he carried all that weight on a frame about the size of mine. Like a fallen halo a neat fringe of gray hair circled his head. Apparently Security had given him a comb but not a razor—day-old stubble dotted his jowls. Dressed in khakis, a button-down and Nikes, he looked every inch a respectable patron from out of town. No self-respecting Las Vegan would wearthat getup unless he hadn’t yet adopted the local customs or he was on his way to play golf. We’re a bit edgier here in Sin City. Or tackier, depending on your point of view.
    He shook my hand but wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Call me Jeep.” His voice was soft, almost childlike—a far cry from the fire and brimstone I was expecting.
    “Jeep?”
    He shrugged. “I was always . . . big. In high school, they used to say I was as big as a jeep. The name stuck.”
    “I see.” Stifling a smile, I motioned to the sofa on the far side of my office, away from the windows. “Take a seat.”
    If it was possible for a four-hundred-pound man to slink, then the Most Reverend “Jeep” Peabody slunk over to the sofa and lowered himself to perch on the edge. He fidgeted with a button on his shirt.
    I took the chair across from him, taking a deep breath and letting it out while I looked at my guest. “You gave us quite a scare