Belport’s weather was foul, fouler than normal, which generally drove down business. Jessie surfed the web while I enjoyed some Raymond Chandler, at least until the flash of lightning blinded me, followed by the thunder crack right above the building.
“Oh no,” I said.
“You say something, Boss?” Jessie called back.
“Lock the door!” I jumped up, following my own advice.
She sprang up, going to the door and locking it, quickly.
I settle in on the couch, farthest from the door, waving her to join me when she peeked around the corner.
“Boss,” she whispered, “what are we doing?”
“Hiding. That little pyrotechnic display meant visitors,” I whispered back.
“Don’t we want business?”
“Not this kind. Definitely not this kind.”
The rain kept up, but otherwise there was no sound. I kept watching the frosted window in my door.
Every time they show up, my world gets worse. We’re not here. Move along. Call and leave a message. Wait!
I pulled out my phone, silencing it. Just in time as a call came through, showing Kate’s picture, a selfie of her in the clouds with lightning all around.
I put a finger to my lips, miming silence to Jessie as we watched the phone. After several seconds, it went to voicemail. And then she called again. I kept waiting for them to test the door, but it didn’t happen.
They must be still coming up the elevator.
I ignored the second call.
There was a knock at the window.
Not the door’s window.
My head whipped to the window looking out to see Kate and three other storm riders hovering in midair, one of whom was unconscious. Kate tapped on the glass with one knuckle and held up her phone with the other. She looked smug. They all looked smug.