Hanging up the phone, the receptionist says, “Please have a seat, Mr. Anderson. Someone will be with you shortly.”
“It’s Angel,” Joey says.
She gives him a sardonic look but doesn’t reply.
“Angel,” he says again.
She points past him. “Sit.”
Joey turns away before she can see him roll his eyes. The rest of the day can only get better from here, right?
* * * *
Mr. Jordan, Mr. Jordan, Mr. Jordan.