Making the Grade (The Model Spy #2)

Chapter 4 - Agent Max Spencer

"Zach!" I exclaimed. I couldn't believe my eyes. I took in his appearance. Tall, tanned skin, and dark hair perfectly coiffed. It was Zach! And he was covered in coffee...

"I'm sorry," I apologized hurriedly as I attempted to gather the empty coffee cups scattered on the floor. I caught some names written on the side in thick, black marker. Lilly. Martin. Kevin.

"They sent you running for coffee, I see," I chuckled as I handed him the Styrofoam cups. He stopped wiping at his stained shirt, which was clearly doing no good, to take them from my hands. "I'm sorry," I said again. "I can go run and get some coffee if you wanna change your shirt."

Zach wasn't talking to me as he stacked the empty cups into each other. The silence made me uneasy. The person before me was most definitely Zach. It was the same boy I had been thinking about for months. The only difference was he wasn't saying anything to me. A moment such as this was just calling for a sarcastic comment. This wasn't how I imagined our reunion would be.

"Look, I'm really sorry."

"Laura," he said finally. "I have to go, okay?" He backed away quickly before disappearing into the crowd of agents moving briskly back and forth.

I stood in the middle of the lobby not sure where to go or what to do. I stared at the spot Zach stood at only moments before. Six months. Six months we hadn't said a word to each other. We finally, literally, run in to each other and he doesn't even say hi?

I tried to calm myself. He was a big-shot now. He was busy. Clearly they had him running errands for the departments, getting coffee, sending messages. Of course he didn't have time to chitchat. He couldn't afford to lose his job. That explained it. That was why he was so tense. He was on the clock and my clumsiness cost him valuable time.

Someone laid a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"There you are! We don't want to be late for the meeting," Fred said.

Together we made our way to the conference room on the third floor. The large glass doors were opened wide as several men in suits entered the room. A few nodded at Fred and cast me curious glances, but no one said anything.

"You have nothing to be nervous about, love," Fred whispered in my ear. "It's just a meeting."

"Agent Hughes. Agent Porter." A large gentleman approached Fred and me. The man was old and overweight, his large belly bursting over the top of his pants. His belt looked ready to snap. His hair was white, like crisp snow. He could have passed for a Santa at the mall, but his expression was anything but jovial as he neared us. His mouth was pulled into a tight line.

"Agent Pillington," Fred said, thrusting out his hand in greeting. "It's good to see you, mate." Fred patted the man on the back three or four times, but Agent Pillington clearly didn't wish to return the friendly formality.

Fred quickly realized this and took a step away. "Pillington, this is my goddaughter Laura," he said, nudging me toward the old man.

I extended my hand, but Pillington's short, pudgy arms remained glued to his sides. Slowly I lowered my hand and ran it down my dress, pretending to smooth its invisible wrinkles. "Nice to meet you, Agent Pillington," I managed to say stiffly. I didn't care for his cold demeanor towards me and Fred.

"I've heard many things about you, Agent Porter." I couldn't tell from his flat tone if those said things were good or bad.

Fred spoke up for me. "All good things, I hope," he joked as he wound an arm around my waist and pulled me close like a proud father would do to his little girl.