(This is another little blurb written quite a while ago... E hated company Christmas parties.  Enjoy!)

...I don't like company office parties.

Yeah, I don't get it either. The alcohol is usually top notch, the company spares little expense... I guess I'm just an old fashioned type. Despite how much I may think it or even talk about it I don't drink at work. I rarely drink to get drunk normally but at work, when I'm expected to be sober 364 days a year, one night's slip doesn't really work. Factor in the fact that I'm a sober person among far too many drunken idiots, add loose lips and...

"Hey... did I ever tell you I LOVE your shirts... they're always so tight..."
"Look who's standing under the mistletoe... thats not mistletoe? Wait here, I'll go find some..."
"I never liked you... you're always so stuck up..."
"Where do you work again? I... BLARGH!"

The parties in Boston were another animal all together. A smaller guest list, closer knit group, everyone knows how to hold their liquor and the ones that can't are taken care of by those who can. Also I never had anyone throw up on me in Boston. An odd thing to gage a night on I'm sure but still something you remember. So I did what anyone else would have in my position; walked down to the locker room, punched a wall, took a shower, stuck my soiled clothing (shoes included) in to be dry cleaned on the company dollar, dressed in my reserve overnight clothing, snuck into the back 'kitchen' of the party, grabbed a few Sam Adams and serving platter of cheese and crackers and headed up to my office.

Merry Christmas.

(This was a 'what if' scenario written for E Mayhem a few years ago now.  If E retired early, in my head this means most likely getting a career ending injury, she'd probably take her savings and open a little tea shop.  Enjoy!)

It was a decent size for what it was. Walking through its doors was like stepping back through time, though the range of antiques around would make the patron think twice about exactly what that time was. It always smelled like some sort of baked goods which seemed to be baking at all hours of the day, not that there was no reason. The selection of coffee was nothing to brag about however the tea selection was always broad and brewed to perfection. It was always open at some godawful time in the morning however closed by 5 every day on the dot and was never open Sundays. There were two women and one man you'd always see around, no matter what time of the day it was. No one was ever allowed to feel alone or unattended however if you needed privacy they were conveniently out of sight.

There was one woman who was less often seen however when she stepped out from the back she looked about with such confidence and unspoken knowledge that you almost felt like she had just been standing right behind you, watching your every move. Her smile was jovial, her welcome warm but the feeling she gave off was one of control. She was the owner, it was known without a word about it. The other staff reacted to her as if she was a long time friend however each task given was completed without a pause. Her workers were loyal and as such they were under her protection. If someone did not respect the establishment as was expected she would be the first one to open the door and escort such a person out. No one had seen her have to do more than ask...

They never advertised their presence, not that they ever had to. Most of their clients were regulars who appreciated what was available to them and often offered back a smile and a hello when they stepped in to either stay for a meal or grab something to go.

The kitchens were always spotless whenever they were not in use and when they were being used were not all that far away from it. Any of the three regular staff members could be trusted to run the kitchen however the owner was the one seen in there most often, quietly working on each bit of food with care and concentration. Most of the time she would not look up when one of her staff entered the kitchen however they knew that despite appearances she knew exactly who was there, where they were in the kitchen and that they could speak to her if they so chose. When someone foreign entered her eyes would shoot over immediately, confirming who was present before giving a smile and a welcome and either returning to her work or leaving her work for discussion, her interrupted job taken over immediately by whoever had escorted the person into the kitchens.

Off of the kitchens were two identical doors. One opened to the back door and a set of stairs which led up to what had been in a previous life a private nightclub only accessible by the back and the kitchen. It now served as the apartment of the owner. The other door led to a small office which, while cluttered, was always clean. There was a desk which, in its width, was more than half the width of the office itself. The walls were lined with shelves which held books, computer accessories and pictures of what one might assume to be her family. They all centered around the same three people. Other than these the office failed to show where the owner had come from, what previous jobs or accomplishments she had. Her three staff members knew that she used to work in law however had failed to figure out where and when. It was understood without words that it was not a topic that she would answer questions about. If she wanted them to know they would know.

It was a known fact that she was not a very old woman. Thirty Five years old and she owned a business and the building the business was located on. However the aura she gave off suggested that of a woman older and more experienced than she was. Elle Mayhem was not to be underestimated in any sense of the word.

( For the first part of this please visit   http://carmensandiego.info/blogs/entry/Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes-Turn-and-Face-the-Strange  )

In the heart of San Francisco, hidden in the lower levels of an unmarked brick building sat the infamous Salon Kami.  Established in 1977 by Japanese hair goddess Ayano Kyo the business was only known to those who knew where to look.  Ayano's talented staff were experts in their craft and were well paid not only for their abilities but for their 5 star guest service as well.

The morning manager of the establishment had wondered exactly what was going on when he pulled into the building's parking lot to find a modest sedan parked in one of the spots.  Pulling himself out of his BMW and grabbing his Starbucks coffee cup from the cup holder he made sure to set the car alarm before walking towards the salon's side entrance, preparing himself for the worst. 

What he found was a blond woman of a normal to slightly athletic build leaning against the wall next to the entrance, glancing at her blackberry with a slightly bored look on her face.  Her manner of dress, a t-shirt and jean combo, hardly spoke of the high caliber client the establishment catered to, even if she had been trying for something along the lines of middle class chic.  Renaldo Pertile, previously mentioned manager, was not impressed. 

"Excuse me, may I help you?" he asked the blond.  She looked up quickly from her blackberry, not startled but more trying to put away her item to allow herself to seem more polite. 

"Hi, I was waiting for someone to arrive... I wanted to make an appointment."

Renaldo couldn\'t help but laugh.  He\'d seen this before yet every time he saw it again it still cracked him up just a little.  The rest of the laughter came from the guilty desire to watch someone unable to get what they want.  "People don't simply 'make appointments' here, Miss."

The blond seemed less broken hearted than he\'d expected.  Ugh.  She was probably too stupid to realize the rejection yet.  Instead she smiled just a little.  "Actually I was hoping to be taken now."

"NOW?" the manager nearly squealed.  "As in a walk in?!"

"Well, yeah.  I know its early, your colorist probably won't be due in for a little while but I can wait, I don't mind."

The manager by now had lost most of his amusement but still kept at least half a smile as he coughed and approached, half strutting like a peacock.  "Perhaps you don't understand.  This is Salon Kami.  There is no 'walk ins', no 'last minute appointments'.  Even if you could afford our prices, and by your look I highly doubt you can, people make appointments here months in advance; some even YEARS!"

Amber eyes looked at Renaldo with a blank stare for a moment before reaching into her pocket and producing two items.  Two business cards.  One, a simple but expensive print with SALON KAMI on it in pink embossing.  The edges were a bit bent but its logos stayed true as well as a hand signed signature on its back.  The second was fairly pain in comparison to its companion.  It had the ACME logo on it in a two ink print with the name of a detective printed in its center.  Calmly she extended them to the manager who, looking at the more expensive one suddenly turned white. 

"Where did you get this?" Renaldo asked softly, then turned an accusatory stare at the woman. 

"IBS, Las Vegas, about two years ago.  Not that its any of your business." the blond answered, her tone still sweet but her waning patience showing.  "I'm going to wait here.  Please go inside, lock the door behind you if you want, and call your boss.  When you ask her about that card please give her my name, its on the other.  Once you\'re done confirming please come back out and unlock the door;  I\'ve been out here for about half an hour now."

The manager, now nearly speechless, did as the woman requested, complete with locking the door behind him as he went to call his boss from the salon\'s phones.  Within five minutes Mr. Pertile came back looking as if he'd swallowed a rather disgusting bug.  Calmly he unlocked the door and motioned for the guest to enter. 

"Please, Detective..." he paused and looked down at the business cards in his hand, "Mayhem.  Come in."

The detective smiled, perhaps a little more than someone simply getting their way would have normally, and walked in.  "Thank you."

"Madame Kyo has informed me that Salon Kami is at your disposal.  What can we do for you?"

Pleased at the sudden change of attitude from the manager the woman pulled a photo from her pocket and flattened it out.  Creases from its being folded were evident but the focus of the picture was clear as day.  "Can you do this?"

Placing a gentle hand on the side of the photograph he looked closely at it, then at her, then it, then reached for her hair and removed its elastic with ease, letting it fall to its normal length.  "You're going to need more than a colorist." he commented, his nose wrinkling.

"Can you do it?" she asked again. 

"Of course we can do it." he nearly snapped, offended that she'd ask.  

"Good." the woman replied softly.  "Then lets get to work."

By the time the newly changed Eleanor Mayhem reached the 11th floor of the ACME Detective Agency it was almost six in the evening.  Looking out from behind a pair of wire rimmed glasses with bright blue eyes she watched for any spilling from the two Starbucks cups in her hands.  Her short heels clacked against the hallway\'s linoleum floor at a rapid enough pace to allow her wide legged white suit pants to move just a bit with the motion. 

Stopping outside the office of her boss Chase Devineaux she checked her reflection in the glass of his door before attempting to knock.  Realizing that her hands were somewhat full she gently tapped with her foot at the bottom of the door, hoping the noise would reach the ears of the agent she hoped was inside. 

Chase had been busy with recent projects involving minor security fixes and major renovations when he heard a tapping on his office door.  He hesitated, true to his form, because very few people come to see him completely unannounced. 

"It's open," he called out.

There was a bit of a pause.  Slowly the door opened, first revealing a hand of coffee, followed by the white suited frame of the redhead formerly known as Missy. 

Chase recognized her, but like seeing a picture of something that exists only in memory, he watched her for a while without a reaction.
"E?" he asked with hesitation, "What's going on, what happened to Missy?"  In retrospect, it was a weird question to ask, but he didn't have much experience with situations like these.

She hung back towards the door for a moment before taking a deep breath.  "Missy... I..." Agent E Mayhem stumbled over her words.  In her head moments before it had seemed so much more clear as to how she'd explain it but now it wasn't exactly coming out the way she planned.  "Missy's gone.  You, uh, you should be getting a message from the Department of Records soon, I changed my name back with them.  Got my old ID back and everything." 

That had been a little better.

"What about S.O.?" Chase pushed aside some papers to look at her better, "are you resigning?"

"No." she shook her head quickly.  "No plans on it anyway."  E walked towards the desk.  "I just figured... well... I'm the same person who got into S.O. no matter what my name is.  So why change?" 

Slowly standing, Chase took another moment to look at her.  

"I suppose you're right," he spoke almost skeptically, "I was just getting used to the blonde, but we all need our level of comfort." He laughed and then pointed to the coffee, "Is that for me?"

"Hmmm?"  E had half expected a worse reaction to all of this so the idea of the coffee which she still held in her hand had escaped her until he mentioned it.  "Oh!  Yeah, I figured you could use a mid day pick-me-up."

Carefully she handed the cup over, making sure he got a good grip on it before letting it go.  "The last I remembered you liked it black...."  A small smile crossed her face as she brought her own cup up for a sip.  "I hope you don't mind."

Chase moved from behind his desk, took the cup, and studied it, mocking an intense stare before sipping.  

"If you'd asked me before you changed back, I would have been against it," he admitted, leaning on the front of his desk, "But then I look at you now, and I\'m thinking you made a good call.  It's not every day you look exactly the way you feel, I hope this brings you closer to that."
He took another sip of coffee, "It's good to have you back, Eleanor."

E Mayhem grinned.  "Its very nice to be back, Mr D-."  she paused at the mistake and gave a light cough.  "Chase."  The change back was going to take a little bit of getting used to but it would, without a doubt, be worth it.  

"By the way..." Chase added an afterthought, "you're only E here at base, out on the field, you're still Missy Wayward... Don't get too comfortable."