I Wish I Was At the Mall - Ellen Leigh (7)

"Let me put it this way, Mr. Wallace."
Ha! I'd been working on that in front of my mirror all morning. I could tell by the looks on their faces that they were sufficiently intimidated by my all-black clothing ensemble, dark sunglasses, and serious expression. I'd been working on them all morning, too. I took a moment to hope that I'd remembered to unplug my hair straightener; the last thing I needed was another small house fire. Then I continued, keeping my voice completely level. 
"Let me put it this way for you, Mr. Wallace. Did you ever want to be in the CIA or the FBI when you were a little boy, sir?"
"Yeah, sure."
"Well, you couldn't."
"I couldn't?" He was curious, and slightly offended.
"No."
"Why not?" 
"Because this is how we pick them."
Significant pause.
I'd put a lot of weight on the words, because a big impression was vital at this point. What I had just told the Wallaces was a complete lie, but it was a good one. It tended to work on big men with mustaches like Mr. Wallace. Mrs. Wallace didn't look like she'd object to anything much. The FBI and the CIA were bumbling morons and I had nothing to do with them, but the important thing was what I could make the Wallaces believe.
I hated this part.
I'd considered a number of options in speaking to Ian Wallace's parents. Not the least of them was perhaps slipping a note under the door. This way worked, though. They bought it, hook, line, and sinker. They signed the papers; I was out of there.
Before I walked out the front door, I handed them a card. "My name is Ellen Leigh. This is where you can reach me."
My mouth was already twitching as a I said it. The moment the door closed I broke into a wide grin that quickly turned into a delighted laugh. I skipped over to my car, a black Mustang whose name was Sally, and slapped her on the hood.
"Yes! Yes!" They bought it. I sighed and allowed myself a momentary bask in my triumph. It was my first mission as a senior officer. I was pretty much the foremost field agent on the trip. For the first time, I had two suits working under me.
Ooh. That sounded dirty.
I slipped into the car and dialed on my cell phone.
"Greg? It's Ellen. I got 'em, baby. Oh, wait! Sorry. Unprofessional. Um, the parents are on board. Repeat, the parents are on board." As I listened, the grin faded from my face. "What kind of complication?"