Ortiz Detective Agency

[The Exodus]

Ortiz Detective Agency is a small, investigative office. The building is ancient; the white walls have long been discolored by city pollution and time. Stubborn ivy clings to the stones and climbs its way up. The Detective Agency is on the fifth floor. Santiago bought the two room office in cash at the beginning of the month and there were no questions asked of him—although a few eyebrows were raised. Truth is, he’d only spent a fraction of the money Catalina Reyes had left him and he still thinks he paid an exorbitant amount of money for the place. Sometimes, he thinks he’s paying for the silence of his neighbors, since Ortiz Detective Agency isn't nearly as wholesome as it could be. So far, no one has said anything more insulting or incriminating than, “Ah, so you’re the new private d*ck down the street?” with a good-natured and detestable laugh. When you walk into the first room, you are transported from the hustle-and-bustle of the rest of the building. The greyish-blue “party mix” carpet from outside disappears and is replaced by hardwood floors. From the door, you can see that the detective agency continues beyond a wooden door with a glass window on it. The shade is often pulled down. But that is of no immediate concern. Instead, you are greeted by a small section with three blue chairs that look as though salvaged from a hospital waiting room. There is a water-cooler on one side of the chairs; on the other a potted plant that might be fake. A small coffee table sits in front of the sitting area, stacked with reading material ranging in topic from “Broadway Musicals of the 1940s” to “Futbol por Aficionados” to week-old newspapers. A patterned rug makes the waiting area slightly more homey and inviting. And in comparison to Santiago's office, the waiting room is, in fact, homey and inviting. Santiago’s office, despite the large window overlooking the Seine, looks austere and grim. His desk is meticulously organized, but not decorated in the slightest, unless you count a laptop and small printer/fax machine as “decoration”. Santiago does. At first glance, you would think he didn’t have any cases, but as he will quickly tell you, the multi-lingual and confidential nature of his office makes Ortiz Detective Agency a highly sought after novelty in Paris. His cases range from missing persons to tracking unfaithful spouses to homicide and beyond. He says this with no hint of a smile or any indication of what “beyond” might entail. On the wall nearest the door are two maps of the city. One is clearly marked and easily recognizable. The other is something Santiago is “working on”. Again, no smile and no indication what that might mean. Beside the desk is a bookshelf made of a dark wood at odds with Santiago’s oak desk. On the bookshelf are books in multiple languages: Spanish, English, and French, for sure. There are cupboards at the base of the bookshelf. If one could open them, one would find a locked safe. What’s in there is anybody’s guess. Behind the desk is a baroque style table utterly at odds with the heavy oak desk and rough-hewn bookshelf. On it is a coffee machine, Styrofoam cups, and a small radio, which is often turned to the classical station, which streams live operas from the Garnier on weekends, or the news radio. If you ever find yourself in need of services the police are reluctant to offer, Ortiz Detective Agency is the place for you to seek help. Santiago promises a job well done and seen to completion. But everything here comes at a price. And the ends always justify the means.

[The Exodus]

Santiago Ortiz

Santiago still thought the office space was too pricey. He guessed real estate in Paris wasn’t cheap, but Santiago was a bit of a miser. You had to be where he grew up. And later on his stage manager salary. When you were raised with a poor-kid mentality, sudden windfalls did one of two things: You either spent it on all sorts of sh*t you would never need or you would still wince if you spent anything for fear that one day, there wouldn’t be any more money to be had.

Santiago was the latter sort of man. Money made him uncomfortable, queasy. He felt like someone would slip in through his window as he slept, slit his throat, and steal away into the night with everything Santiago owned. He’d seen it happen before.

He’d done it before.

But now was not the time to dwell on things he had done or next-to irrational fears he had about being murdered in his sleep. Right now, Santiago Ortiz had more immediate concerns. He’d bought the office with the money Catalina left him. Or, really, some of the money Catalina had left him. Some of it went towards furnishing the place. The rest, towards getting the business off the ground or into savings. There was quite a lot left over.

In part because Santiago still shopped like a poor man. He’d taken the waiting room chairs off the hands of the local hospital, who’d recently refurnished their waiting room. Sure, he had to scrub them down and get a vomit-stain out of one, but it was worth it. His furniture, too, was all repurposed. Thrift stores were illegal in Paris, for reasons Santiago couldn’t fathom, but just because he was following the spirit of the law these days, didn’t mean he would always follow the letter.

Besides, it was a stupid law anyways.

Santiago had finished moving his furniture in an hour ago and he was now tacking things to his wall. Maps of Paris, to be precise. The first was of the city itself. A typical road map with some landmarks. He’d use that to deal with cases. No doubt, in time, the map would be marked up with a rainbow of pins and strings. But for now, it was blank.

The other…

The other was definitely Paris, but certain roads were highlighted in certain colors. Others, marked out with black sharpie. There would be no pins on this one and no foreseeable use. Unless you were Santiago. His growing fascination with the catacombs would explain some of the map, but not all. Nothing and no one would as far as he was concerned. It was a pet project he’d been keeping in a folder in his apartment. The creases were still evident. But Santiago preferred having the map laid out so he could see everything at a glance, instead of sorting through dozens of loose ends.

Santiago supposed he had to hate loose ends even more now that he was a private investigator. He’d be working for law firms, private citizens, and occasionally the police. Most of what television showed PIs doing was wrong. Santiago knew that much. But he suspected that his services would be a bit different than even regular private investigators, simply because his resume did not include a police academy or a degree in criminal justice.

Santiago had learned from hands on experience. And no one wanted to see his credentials.

He pushed a set of thumbtacks into the wall to get the second map to stay in place. Outside, the sky was streaked with grey and it was only a matter of time before the rain came pouring down. He thought it fitting that it should rain today. He and Rachel last teamed up in the middle of a giant storm, the likes of which Paris hadn’t seen since. He moved towards the bookshelf to stock it. This was a new chapter of their lives. Plural. No longer singular. They were a set of zig-zagged lines, intersecting sometimes, but veering off into tangents all on their own.

And frankly, that was fine by him. In fact, this would all work out for the better. He’d keep an eye on her; she’d keep an eye on him. And at the end of all this, who knew if they’d even be on the same plane?

Santiago ripped open the box of books. Yes, this was just fine by him.

[Deleted]

Rachel Day


This rain would certainly not rain on her parade! Rachel Day was sure of it and determined as ever, as she lugged a few boxes into the new office after gazing at it for about a couple minutes with a smirk under her polka dotted umbrella. Sure, it wasn’t a theatre gig, but it was a job. That was exciting. It was a completely different field. It was a change! Rachel needed a change. She had been up the entire night just imagining what it would be like to work as a Detective. Well, okay, she was not a Detective, that was Santiago’s part. But she certainly was a part of it, and would somehow sneak her way into some cases. Rachel Day was not desk bound. She needed to be active and constantly on the go, go, go! Wow, she could feel the coffee kicking in straight away. It was move-in day, and Santiago needed her in tip top shape. So, coffee lead to excitement which lead to a shopping spree, which lead Rachel Day to her new occupation as a… Well, she did not know what to call it quite yet. Yes, it was an assistant, but Rachel did not want that to be the label. Happy helper? Case coordinator?

Rachel Day’s life was changing, and it was odd. There was no denying that part of it. How she had to set aside her true passion for awhile to do this and making a living somehow. It may help her get a new piece of mind. Being cooped up in a hotel room was not very much fun. Myron Bolitar had fired her, which was a less than great feeling, because she was getting publicity. Living in hiding made Rachel feel alone. It made her feel angry that she had to be this prisoner of the situation back in New York City, which her newfound passion for karate helped with releasing that, but it still boiled her insides to no end. Then again, this situation wasn’t so bad. She was back in Paris with her true family, and she was working with Santiago. She had missed him.

The most strange feeling was how excited she was about the working with Santiago Ortiz part. It frightened her almost, but she was sure it was just because she had been lonely, and they were extremely close. Apart of her though felt something else, but she would not be exploring that part of it. Besides, they were partners now. That wasn’t helping…

Rachel decided that today would be exciting. She stalked up on caffeine to work on making the office pretty, because goodness knows Santiago would need help, she purchased office things, and she had bought Santiago a little present he hopefully would appreciate.

“Detective Ortiz!” Rachel called out excitedly, entering the office and dropping the two large boxes and shopping bags down, and then she paused looking around with a wide grin. It was great! It was the real deal! Rachel Day felt a swelling in her chest. Santiago Ortiz was doing this, and Rachel Day would never fully explain to him how proud she was. Back in Opera days he was unhappy, and he was in some pretty dark territory. Now, he was a Detective. Rachel had loved the person he was back then, but now he was proving himself a man that she always knew he was but he never expressed in this way before. Now he got to own that title- Detective Ortiz. Rachel may have enjoyed that title more than he did.

Putting a hand to her mouth, she gasped, “This is wonderful! Oh my goodness!” She clasped her hands, entering the room further, and laughing, running a hand along HER desk.

Doing a turn and a sexy, saucy pose on the desk, she leaned back, tilting her head and running a foot along up her calf. With a grin, she talked to an invisible person at the entrance, “Rachel Day, at your service fellow citizen in trouble.”

Rachel laughed. She was going to like this job.

[The Exodus]

Santiago Ortiz

Santiago Picked up as many books as he could with one hand and put them on the shelf. The books were more for show than anything. Santiago wasn’t really a reader. He liked some books, but it was all a matter of timing. You didn’t exactly have time to finish War and Peace when you had to meet a guy at a rendezvous point at 10 PM, drop off the shipment by 11, and join the guys for a hit by midnight. Never mind work. Santiago had read dozens—hundreds—of plays and liberettos in the last several years. But curl up with a good book? No time. A shame, really, but distance lent disenchantment and now Santiago hadn’t the patience to lose himself between pages.

Books were a means to information. They taught you something. If Santiago wasn’t learning from a book these days, he saw no point in reading it. Which was probably why he unpacked law books, medical volumes, and language dictionaries, but not a single work of fiction.

Life was too exciting, anyways. If you were reading about sh*t happening to other people, that meant sh*t wasn’t happening to you. He could think of no sadder life than that.

Santiago heard the door groan open and his first thought was to remember to fix that before he had clients. His second thought was, “Who the hell…?”

“Detective Ortiz!”

Never mind. Rachel. Santiago’s lips curved upwards into a grimace and he went back to unpacking. Detective Ortiz. Christ, that sounded worse out loud. He wondered what Cam would have said to that. Or his papa. Or Lorenzo.

He’d have been a dead man.

Santiago put a book about music history beside a book about first aid. He could hear Rachel gushing in the next room and that was better than dwelling on what he might have heard from people long gone from his life. He emptied the box. The bookshelf looked rather sad. Empty. It wasn’t a home library, though. Not like he was going to have much time even now that he’d switched careers. Santiago folded up the box and walked into the other room.

Rachel had herself pinned to the desk, facing the door. Her leg snaked up her opposite calf. Santiago felt a twinge of residual something because she used to look at him that way. He followed her gaze. She was staring at absolutely nothing.

“Rachel Day, at your service fellow citizen in trouble.”

“You can’t answer the door like that,” Santiago told her, leaning against the doorframe and smirking. “We’re professionals now.”

Of course, professionals also didn’t wear leather jackets and motorcycle boots to work. Or have an ashtray in the top desk drawer. Or have gang insignias tattooed to their chest.

“What’s in the boxes?”

[Deleted]

Rachel Day

“You can’t answer the door like that.” Rachel Day jerked her head sideways to see Santiago Ortiz leaning against his office door with a grin. She smirked back at him. ”We’re professionals now.”

Rachel Day glinted with an even bigger smirk. Professional sounded so fancy shmancy. Rachel could not await for the days with her glasses, pencil skirts, important cases, and helping the distressed people of Paris. She would be like Wonder Woman!

“What’s in the boxes?”

“Oh!” Rachel perked up, shooting from off her desk, and heading over to the boxes and bags. She was grinning devilishly as she knelt down on the floor to go through them. “Just a few things I picked up for the new business.” She went through the bags. She had went probably a little overboard, but Rachel was excited and wanted to help out. Now that she could afford to splurge, why not do it on something important? From office décor, to pencils and pretty highlighters, to shelves that will help organize- Rachel Day was a walking Office Max! She wanted Santiago Ortiz to feel organized, with plenty of supplies- because he deserved it. Plus, he surely needed a woman’s touch.

Going through some of the things, she came out with her perfectly pink clipboard. “Some things are for me.” She told him with an excited smile, showing him her jeweled supply that she had treated herself too. How perfect, right? She rummaged through the rest, “Some things for the office, to spice it up, professionally of course.” She assured him with a wink.

“And I also have a little bit of things in here for you and your desk.” Rachel told him looking up at him with a smile. “Shall we get crackin’?”

[The Exodus]

Santiago Ortiz

Rachel was grinning like a crazy devil-woman. Santiago wondered, fleetingly, if she’d tucked more wine into the bags. He still couldn’t believe she drank now. What else was new? Did she smoke? Have tattoos? Swear? The bags she brought could contain anything from pink, fluffy teddy bears to a Smith and Wesson for all Santiago knew. And he did want to know. Rachel bent down to rummage through a bag.

“Just a few things I picked up for the new business,” she said. “Some things are for me.”

As if on cue (likely on cue, knowing Rachel), she flashed Santiago a pink clipboard. It reeked of teenage kitsch. For a moment, Santiago’s heart sank. No, Rachel hadn’t changed much at all. Getting her to answer phones saying anything other than, “Rachel Day, Tony Award Winner, how can I brighten your day?” would be a challenge.

“Some things for the office, to spice it up, professionally of course.”

Rachel winked. Somehow, Santiago wasn’t reassured. If she was a secretary hired from an agency, she’d be fired by now. But it was Rachel. Santiago knew she was more than pink clipboards and theatrics. She was one of the only people still alive that Santiago liked and trusted. Sometimes, he wondered how that had come to be. And then he remembered. Lorca. A gun. A power outage. A seedy bar. Touching each other in a bathroom at a Masquerade. A tango. And somehow, the rest was history.

Ancient history.

Still, Santiago had been in love with Rachel once. He still cared about her. And as unprofessional as a pink clipboard was, it wasn’t worth getting bent out of shape. He’d changed over the years. And it was Rachel’s g*ddamned fault. The old him would have snapped the clipboard in two. Santiago wondered if he’d buried that part of him with Catalina or if Rachel had packed it up in a suitcase when she left him a year ago and that really awful bit of him was sitting alone and unloved in her abandoned New York apartment.

“And I also have a little bit of things in here for you and your desk.” Rachel told him looking up at him with a smile. “Shall we get crackin’?”

“Hey, as long as my workspace is pink-free,” he said with a lazy shrug and a half smile. He didn’t want to accept gifts. He felt so strange, everybody giving him stuff. The money, the job, office supplies… It was emasculating.

And oddly flattering. Santiago had always taken care of himself. Since his mother died, anyways. And the idea that there were other people willing to take care of him was still foreign. Still, it was less distasteful than it had been in years past.

“Need help?”

[Deleted]

Rachel Day


Surely, Rachel Day knew she was going a little crazy with this shopping spree she had done. It was a project though, and something to finally focus energy on. Rachel needed this more than Santiago probably knew, and that was alright because it was slightly pathetic. She felt pathetic, but she pushed that feeling behind. Here she was being an assistant though, and everyone was taking a step forward. Santiago being a Detective, Myron with all of his Mouline Rouge happenings, Ashton and Lucian with their baby boy. They were all getting ahead and Rachel Day took a giant leap behind. Anyway Rachel could make herself feel important she would work. Even if it meant going a little crazy. Which, could also be the coffee. Nah, it was just her.

“Hey, as long as my workspace is pink-free." Santiago told her, and Rachel Day couldn't even imagine the thought of Santiago having pink in his office. Just the thought of attempting to put a pink object in his office terrified her.

"Need help?"

Rachel nodded, "Yes, as a matter of fact." Standing up she looked over at him, "You can go through and tell me what you do and do not like. This is your place after all. I have the receipts, so I can return them at lunch." She told him in a professional tone, "And if there is anything you need, I can pick it up."

Crouching down, she picked up a bag that had file folders inside, binders, pens, and notepads. Heading over to her desk she began breaking them out of their plastic bags. "We will need all the essentials though!"

[The Exodus]

Santiago Ortiz

"Yes, as a matter of fact.” Rachel stood up and looked at Santiago. For a small moment, he wondered if this was how this worked or if she should ask him what he needed… "You can go through and tell me what you do and do not like. This is your place after all. I have the receipts, so I can return them at lunch." She told him in a professional tone, "And if there is anything you need, I can pick it up."

He almost told her not to bother. And then he remembered. This was work. That was her job. He had the right to not like something and to make her exchange it. This wasn’t a present; it was a business transaction. Santiago always thought he could handle those… Rachel set to work opening pens and notebooks and folders.

"We will need all the essentials though!"

“Yeah,” Santiago agreed.

He hadn’t thought much about that. He’d never run a business before. Not a legitimate one. He always seemed to think that paper and pens came with the office. As did the three piece suits and pretentious attitudes. Clearly, Santiago knew nothing about business. He knew how to shoot a gun. He knew how to break all the bones in a man’s hand. He knew how to dispose of a body and never be caught.

He wasn’t cut out for this.

Santiago looked into the bag Rachel had given him and pulled out a sleek black stapler. He held it in his hand. It was heavy and firm. Almost like a gun. He was sure it wouldn’t be that hard to weaponize it. A strange smile flitted across his lips, but he shook it away and set the stapler aside so he could take it back to his office. He found a hole-punch and a little black calendar-book. He picked up the calendar and flipped through it. All the pages were wonderfully blank.

“Not a bad haul,” Santiago said, looking up from the loot. It was something he’d say after a robbery, back in the day. Now, a shopping spree. It had been two or three careers since he’d been a true gangster. Maybe it was time to let go.

[Deleted]

Rachel Day

Rachel Day pursed her lips, splitting up the ballpoint pens into piles for her and Santiago to split, along with the paper and such. For her this was fun because she liked playing office. Well, this wasn't so much playing, it was the real deal. It was just a different setting than being in a rehearsal space. She preferred that, but she could not do that right now, so setting up an office space would have to suffice for now! Plus, it was Santiago and she was happy for him. If it were a complete bozo stranger, then this wouldn't be fun at all. She was about to help begin something truly great for Santiago, and it was exciting. Rachel Day would never gush out loud though, or at least to the extent of what she felt. Santiago Ortiz wasn't one to appreciate gushing. Yeesh, sometimes Rachel wondered how they had ever gotten together. Then she remembered... Rachel Day blinked that remembering away though.

"Not a bad haul."

Not realizing for a moment he was speaking to her because she was so particular in what she was doing, Rachel glanced over her shoulder with a smile. "Glad you think so." Looking back, she grabbed a hold of Santiago's supplies. "I know a couple things about being an assistant I suppose." Not something she was particularly proud of either, but it was the truth.

"May I step into your office and set these down?" She smirked, "And also take a peek!"

[The Exodus]

Santiago Ortiz

"Glad you think so." Looking back, she grabbed a hold of Santiago's supplies. "I know a couple things about being an assistant I suppose."

Santiago had picked the right girl for the job. He almost forgot that when they met, Rachel had been the chorus master’s assistant. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Several lifetimes ago. Santiago tended to feel that way about the past. It always seemed to have happened to someone else, even though the records showed his name time and again. He wondered if Rachel resented him for the new job. She’d hated being an assistant then.

But then again, it didn’t get much more “low-profile” than a pencil pusher in an office. She might have been glad for the low-key nature of the job.

Maybe. Santiago couldn’t guess what she was thinking anymore. He didn’t have that ability. He didn’t have that right.

“May I step into your office and set these down? And also take a peek!"

“Sure,” Santiago said, still plucking through the bag of office supplies. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

[Deleted]

Rachel Day

"Sure, I'll be there in a minute."

Santiago hadn't even finished his sentence before Rachel Day had stepped into his office with her clipboard and a box of his supplies. She went right for his desk, setting down the box. Turning around to lean on the front of it, she looked around and smiled to herself. It was very fitting for him. How exciting, right? Rachel looked over at the large map that was tacked to the walls and it already had markings on it. She walked over to it, examining it. He really knew what he was doing. Not that she ever doubted that for a hot moment, but it was just she never thought that he would be Detective Santiago Ortiz. Coming from the adventures they had been through together, it was a reasonable thought.

It could use a little more decor, but Rachel wouldn't press on touching his office. An office was a personal thing, she understood. Santiago was not one for decoration. That's why she would only press her office slash waiting room! That needed to look exceptionally presentable for professionals like themselves.

Looking around, she took a little spin around the desk and plopped down onto his chair. Spreading her fingers out, she leaned back and squinted straight ahead attempting to play through her mind what would be going on in this office. Tears. They would need tissues. A lot of business coming in and out.

"Do you have business cards?" She called out to him, tapping her pen against her clipboard, and jotted down 'business cards?', and then mustered up another idea. "Oh, you need a name plate. That screams professional."

Rachel smirked, sliding back into the chair. "Since that's what you're going for."

[The Exodus]

Santiago Ortiz

When Santiago was satisfied with the loot Rachel had brought back, he scooped it up into his arms and made his way to his office. One trip would do the trick. He didn’t want to leave her alone in there for too long. Offices were personal, but Santiago’s was purposefully devoid of personality. The hodgepodge of furniture was quirky at best, but to Santiago, it said that he preferred usefulness to style. He didn’t want Rachel adding anything to his stark office or moving anything. It was one of those dull, pointless fears. He was full of them today.

"Do you have business cards?" Rachel called out. Santiago walked in the room and saw her sitting in his chair. That weird surge of possessiveness welled up in him, the same as when MaCarthy first touched the soundboard. Mine. For a man who was unused to owning much, Santiago was surprisingly acquisitive. "Oh, you need a name plate. That screams professional." Rachel smirked, sliding back into the chair. "Since that's what you're going for."

“A name plate,” he echoed.

He tried to imagine his name in some bold typograph on a professional looking slate-thing. Santiago Ortiz. There were too many deliciously shaped letters for it to ever look good in Arial, 18 point font. The two “Os”. The “S” and the “Z” and the “G”. Santiago shook his head.


“We’ll see.” He pulled the chair out so he could put the calendar in the top drawer of the desk.

“And no, I don’t have business cards,” he said. “I did put an ad in the paper, though. And I’m thinking of hiring a guy to set up a website.”

The idea was distasteful. Santiago didn’t like computers much; the internet, even less. It made him feel stalked. Constantly kept tabs on. He shook his head.

“No. Forget that. No website,” he said. “But we could do cards.”

[Deleted]

Rachel Day

"A name plate." Santiago said, throwing her words right back at her.

Rachel nodded as he entered room with a box of supplies. She couldn't help but take a moment to relish in satisfaction and accomplishment for a hot second. Her caffeinated triggered shopping spree was apparently a success! Lately, with this new job coming up, she could feel her perfectionist office persona coming back to her that she use to thrive on during chorus master’s assistant days. That, mixed with her OCD. It was far more productive than being a slacker though, and that was something Rachel Day never was. Still, with her traits in mind she couldn’t help but step back and wonder how she and Santiago, two bold personalities, could be cooped up as partners in an office together. Then again, they had been in love and had made one another work somehow. No doubt they were the only people they trusted left, and were truly looking out for one another with the best intentions. Still, in a business setting Rachel Day had no idea what to expect and neither did he. How thrilling!

“We’ll see.” He replied, taking her for a chair ride as he moved it to get into the top drawer. Rachel Day rolled her eyes to herself. She didn’t like that. She needed a straight forward answer. She was an extremist! Yes or no and she needed it now. A ‘we’ll see’ was not good enough and there was far much more to worry about. Rachel mentally crossed off that her list. One less she had to do she supposed.

“And no, I don’t have business cards. I did put an ad in the paper, though. And I’m thinking of hiring a guy to set up a website.”

“Hmm.” Rachel Day noised, pursing her lips, only imaging what that website would look like. For some reason it was difficult to imagine Santiago’s face popping up, but when it did she imagined him with a cheesy car dealer’s grin, and it amused her very much so.

“No. Forget that. No website, but we could do cards.”

That was whiplash. Without questioning him, Rachel Day circled ‘business cards?’ on her clipboard. “Okee dokee.” She murmured lowly, concentrating as she stood up from his desk chair and walked around to the other side of the desk. “You’ll have to decide what you want on them and the design of them.” Looking up from her clipboard she smirked slightly, “Unless you trust me.”

Rachel sucked in air through her nose, looking up at the ceiling and squinting with profound thought. She took her hand and stuck it out as if she were seeing the business cards right in front of her. “I’m thinking sophistication but simplicity. With like a,” She brought her fingers together and poked the air, “shock of pizazz.”

Rachel Day grinned at herself, nodding at the invisible business card in front of her. Yes, that was good!

[The Exodus]

Santiago Ortiz

“Okee dokee,” Rachel said. Sometimes, Santiago wondered who had invented the English language. And why. Rachel stood up and walked away from the desk. Santiago took the vacated seat and pulled out some cords from the bottom drawer to hook his computer to the printer. “You’ll have to decide what you want on them and the design of them… Unless you trust me.”

Santiago looked up. He didn’t like that smirk. Not at all. He trusted Rachel, but not her design tastes. He could imagine his name in pretty pastels with some sort of filigree design on the corners of the business cards. Or maybe something bright and bold to make a “statement”. God, what was so wrong with black letters on white paper? Just list a name, a number, an address, the services provided. Design? Why bother?

The bit of him that had once been an artist protested loudly—vehemently—that he could do his own damn designs. That he could come up with something aesthetically pleasing without going overboard. That it was his last chance to ever do anything artistic. He suddenly had a weird, hollow spot in his chest.

“I’m thinking sophistication but simplicity,” said Rachel. “With like a,” She brought her fingers together and poked the air, “shock of pizazz.”

“What does that even mean? ‘Pizazz’?” Santiago said. It sounded like “piss” and “*ss” in English. It sounded Italian, though, when Santiago said it. Leave it to Rachel to pick such a glittery, multipurpose word. “I’ll think of something.”

The printer beeped to life. Santiago stared at it with a smile before an error message flashed on the tiny, digital screen. Something about “Color Ink is low”. He frowned.

“In the meantime,” he said, bending down again to push the “OK” button and get the beeping to stop, “Put ‘printer ink’ on your list.”

Santiago didn’t hear Rachel’s response because the door didn’t just creak open this time. It banged. The wood hit the wall the windows rattled at the force. Santiago sat up quickly. He glanced over at the cabinet at the base of the bookshelf. He desperately wanted the gun hidden inside to be snugly clipped to his hip.

“Hello?” a man called out. “Is this Ortiz Detective Agency?”

Santiago looked at Rachel, before calling out to the stranger, “It is. But you have to make an appointment, like everybody else.”

The man turned towards them and fumbled into the office. He was a big man, but not muscular. He seemed unarmed and he took off his hat to reveal a thinning patch of brownish-blonde hair.

“I’m sorry,” the man said. “I saw your ad and… well, it’s an emergency.”

The man looked around. His dark eyes glanced around the room, as if he was unsure he’d come into the right place after all. It was an easy misconception. Santiago suddenly realized how he and Rachel must look, standing in the nearly empty office. Still, the man seemed a nervous sort, which Santiago thought strange. He didn’t expect a nervous man to practically throw the door off its hinges. But then again, nerves made anyone unpredictable.

“Great,” Santiago said, drawing out the word lazily, leaning back in his chair. Emergency didn’t clear anything up. If it was really such a desperate situation, the man would have said what it was by now. Santiago looked at Rachel. “Senorita Day will schedule you a special, emergency appointment then. Rachel?”

He would probably like this detective thing, after all.

[Deleted]

Rachel Day

Rachel Day had done some assisting in her lifetime, and as much as she absolutely loathed admitting that, she had to say, she was darn tooten great at doing it. Was she thrilled to be back? No. Would it keep her from harms way for awhile? Yes. Until that point, she would have to find things to make her happy. Decorating business cards, for instance, would be a fun task.

“What does that even mean? ‘Pizazz’?"

If she could get through to her boss first. Rachel shook out of her creative genius daze, and looked to Santiago, who just looked confused and like he had just eaten a sour gummy worm. It wasn't a flattering expression on him, but she probably should keep that to herself. He was working at the printer, and she could not believe he did not know what that meant? Didn't everyone?

“I’ll think of something.”

Santiago smiled at the accomplishment of the printer and Rachel frowned in disappointment of being shot down. What a lovely combination they were turning out to be. Whatever; his 'something' was no where near what her 'something' would have been. Perhaps she will just make her own business cards just to spite him, and when more people call upon Rachel Day in the call of duty because it seems more appealing and full of 'pizazz' , because his are all dull and dutiful, then that'll truly show him.

"In the meantime, put ‘printer ink’ on your list.”

Rachel Day's fingers twisted against her pen and her teeth cringed. What a rude demand. Where was the 'please'? He would not order her about like without at least some gratitude. She would not be treated like she was back in the Populaire days.

"It's called saying pl-"

Before she could even get out her frustration, there was a loud bang. Rachel Day's body twisted around, and she felt her heart thump against her chest in a violent scare that she had not felt in sometime. It really knocked some sort of wind out of her, and a hand flew to her chest, and she turned queasy for one moment. Ow! She shut her eyes tight before the pain wooshed away- it happened from time to time where the bullet had hit her- and once it passed, she realized that the paranoia hadn't.

Rachel turned to Santiago.

“Hello? Is this Ortiz Detective Agency?” The voice sounded like a nervous wreck. Apparently he was so nervous he could not read the sign outside?

“It is. But you have to make an appointment, like everybody else.”

Rachel held her clipboard to her chest, watching as the large man walked into the office. Well, more of a trip hobble. He was almost like a giant in comparison to her, and his dark eyes looked around with a chaotic glimmer. She swallowed hard, wondering what kind of business she got herself into.

“I’m sorry, I saw your ad and… well, it’s an emergency.” The man said, uneasy.

An emergency? Well, then, Rachel Day's job was in need now! She straightened up slightly, feeling a little more proud and excited for this. How noble of a feeling to have someone practically come rocking in with an emergency in need of their assistance.

"Great." Santiago said it in a drawl that made Rachel's head twist at him in shock. He leaned against his chair, and she wondered if he was going to get the fudge up and do something about it? He seemed so relax and collected. Right in front of the man who obviously was in a vulnerable place. Rachel Day almost wanted to go over to Santiago Ortiz and hit him over the head with her pink clipboard. For not saying please too!

"Senorita Day will schedule you a special, emergency appointment then. Rachel?”

Rachel Day stared at Santiago for a moment in disbelief before she spun around on her shoes to face the man. She wore a perky and warming smile, her entire being changing into a costumer service, important, and welcoming person. It was like portraying a character. She thought about she had needed to be when doing this job, and had done some book work for it, practicing her faces in the mirror. She needed to be perky, but not so perky that it would annoy a person in distress. She needed to be lovely, but not the point where it seemed as if she were flirting with someone. She needed to be personable so that they could open up to her. Rachel Day had this down for the most part, but this man would be her first test drive.

Rachel Day gestured outside of Santiago's office into hers.

"Yes, right this way Monsieur-"

"Armand Rousseau."

She paused for a moment, carefully making sure she could pronounce that name correctly, because she was terrible at pronouncing things, and Rachel continued. "Monsieur Rousseau." Score!

They walked outside into the bigger area, she not feeling so intimidated at his size now. She now studied him for a moment, and realized how utterly distressed he looked. It was saddening almost. He looked around with weary eyes.

"Oh, were you unloading? I'm being such an interruption-"

Rachel Day shook her head, "Goodness, no." She assured him lightly, showing him to a seat. "You're absolutely fine."

When he sat down, Rachel put a hand on his shoulder, making physical contact because that's how things became personable. If you touch them and use their name a lot. That's what she had read about anyways.

"We're glad you're here."

Though, Santiago Ortiz had quite a way of giving his first costumer a welcome 'how do ya do'.

Rachel Day strutted around back to her desk, flipping out the large calendar that lie against the wood. She bit her lower lip, strumming her finger along the days. "Now lets talk appointments-"

"No! Please." The man pleaded, jumping from his seat and heading right to her desk. His round eyes were frantic and his lower lip shook a little bit. He put a hand on her calendar and Rachel Day's body straightened, tensing. "I really do need your help. Now. It's an emergency."

"Yes," Rachel answered tightly. "You've expressed that. But you need to make an appointment."

That's when the tears starting coming. That's when Rachel Day became a sucker. The man's tears turned into small whimpers. Rachel gasped, horrified that she had driven a man to tears, and snatched her box of tissues shooting over to his side, offering him them.

"But you know what?"

The man blew into the tissue. Rachel winced at the noise.

"What?" The man blubbered.

Rachel Day smiled. "I'll make an exception."