Gail Cartwright- Richardson sat in her new office wondering if she should give the woman she suspected to be her niece a call. Last she heard, Irian was dead, murdered in a house explosion. She thought she had spotted her nephew Matthew walking the corridors of the Agency building, but that couldn't be right either. Matt was dead too. He was shot while escaping from prison. What the hell was going on here? She wanted desperately to ask her brother, Mitchell, but he passed away a while back too, and she had no idea if Rebecca, his wife, was still living or not. She did the next best thing. She picked up her phone and dialed the number in the file in front of her.
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"David, stop!" Brie laughed as David tickled her. She hated it when he did that. Sometimes she hated that he knew her well enough to know where he could tickle her and not get an elbow in his jaw... and HOW to tickle her and avoid that.
"Tell me where my house shoes are and I'll stop, Brie. I want my freakin' house shoes."
"Look at your children, I don't know where they are. Malachai! Jacob! Help me!" laughed.
Malachai and Jacob came running into the room. "Dad! Stop tickling Mom!" Malachai said.
"What are you going to do to stop, Malachai Aaron?" David asked.
Malachai and Jake exchanged a look, then attacked their Dad's legs. "Leave my Mama alone!" Jacob said.
David laughed. "Hey, hey, hey, stop that mess you two! You're gonna make me fall." His phone started playing "Inside Out" by Eve 6. "Ok, boys, get off me, I need to answer my phone." He let go of Brie and the boys stopped punching him in the thighs.
He smiled at his boys as he pulled the phone out of his pocket and answered it, still laughing. He even put the phone on speaker so that Brie could hear whoever it was that he was talking to. "Hello?" he said.
"Good Afternoon, Mr. Draiman. How are you today?" said a woman's voice.
"I'm fine. Who, may I ask, is calling?"
"I'm sorry. My name is Director Richardson. I'm your new boss."
"Ah, that makes sense. And how are you today, Ma'am?"
"I'm doing well. I was calling because I see from your file that it's been almost two or three years since the band's last record. Why is that?"
"Our recording equipment is shit, to be plain and blunt with you, Director. We can't track anything. I've got several ideas, as do the other guys, but we can't get anything tracked because nothing works. I told the Commandant about this a while ago that this was a problem and he said that he'd talk to your predecessor to see if there was a budget to get the equipment changed out and the bastard never got back to me."
"I'm very sorry about that, Mr. Draiman. May I call you David?"
"I have no problem with it. I hate being called Mr. Draiman. Mr. Draiman is my father."
"No problem. Well, David, I'll be heading out this afternoon to come and inspect the equipment. I look forward to meeting, your band mates, and your families."
"We look forward to your arrival as well, Director Richardson."
"I should see you tomorrow afternoon. Even a dangerous woman such as myself needs her beauty rest."
"I understand. My wife is the same way. She loves to sleep in any chance she gets. It's a shame that we have eight kids to chase when we climb out of bed each morning."
"Eight? How do you do it?"
"They have all been a lesson in patience; that is the God's honest truth."
"I hear you there. I had five, and though they're all grown, they were all lessons in patience too, as were my niece and nephew."
"I believe that. Well, speaking of children one of the quads is crying and I need to go handle that."
"No problem. I totally understand. I'll see you tomorrow, David."
"Same to you, Madame Director." And they hung up. David looked at Brie. "You look like you've seen a ghost?"
She took a deep breath. "More like heard one. That would be more accurate."
"What do you mean?"
"I think your new Boss is my aunt."
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