"If I had to guess," I started slowly, "you needed someone to talk to. Conrad doesn't seem like much of a talker. And my father? He's more interested in barking orders at people. He doesn't see them, you know? That's the problem with people like him, they don't see the people who work for them. Not really. He tells you what to do then you do it, right? He doesn't think aboutyou as a human. He's like that with me too, though. He's more interested in what he can get from people. I don't know, but I don't think that's healthy. For him or me."
I was babbling, but I couldn't seem to stop. I wasn't wrong though. I saw reluctant agreement on Silas' face. Irritation at being treated like nothing more than a tool, as important as a hammer or a… Okay, screwdriver probably wasn't the best analogy, but you get it.
"Wouldn't you prefer to work for someone who notices you?" I asked. "Someone who values you."
"The pay is good," he said, scuffing the toe of his sneaker on the concrete floor.
"Of course it is," I said, "but do you get job satisfaction? What if you could get paid the same, or more, and work for someone who cares? There's got to be lots of work out there for someone with your skills."
I wasn't sure what those were exactly, but he was listening to what I was saying. He seemed to be buying into it.
Good, keep listening, I said silently.
"You really think so?" he asked. "I don't know, it's kinda difficult when you can't disclose everything on your resume, you know?"
"That's why you have to be creative," I said. "Sure, you can't say you're a hired goon, but you could say things like: you have good people skills, you work with the public on a regular basis, you work as a member of a team."
I gestured at the door. Conrad must be out there somewhere.
"You could say you have initiative. I bet you could come up with a bunch more if you thought about it. You could list me as a reference. I could say I saw you working and how professional you were." If leering was a professional attribute. He had that down pat.
"You could say you worked for security. That's not exactly wrong. You kept me safe." I spread my hands out to either side. "Look how safe I am. If someone walked in here right now and tried to kidnap me, you'd stop them, wouldn't you? You're practically my bodyguard already."
"I could be a bodyguard," he said, drawing himself up taller. "I notice things. I'm good at risk assessment." He seemed to like the idea.
"There you go," I said approvingly. "I can see it now. You could be the bodyguard for someone rich and famous. Maybe a movie star or a rock star. You could travel all around the world, keeping them safe. And I betanythingit pays better than this."
"It really would," he agreed, nodding.
"If you want, I can help you with your resume. I know a few people who have bodyguards. I could give you their details and see if they can pass them on to their agency. They'd be crazy not to hire you." They'd be crazy if they gave him the time of day, but as long as he was taking the bait, I was going to keep throwing it out there.
"You'd really—" he started to say, then cut himself off with a shake of his head. "What the fuck are you doing? No one's going to hire me as a fucking bodyguard."
"Not with that attitude, they're not," I said cheerfully. "Come on, Silas, isn't it time you had the life you deserve? You need to put yourself out there. Take a risk. Otherwise, you're going to spend the rest of your life doing what my father tells you to do. I don't know, but I think the average life expectancy of a hired thug isn't very high these days."
I cocked my head at him as if I cared. "Being a bodyguard is a lot safer."
"Maybe Ilikebeing a hired thug," he said. "Bodyguards have to obey the law."
I swallowed hard as he took another step towards me.
"See, here's what I mean about life expectancy. I think we both know what my father has in store for me. If you lay a hand on me, he'll have Conrad kill you. You know what they say about damaging the merchandise?"
That was sick as fuck, but if it kept him from touching me…
He scowled. He was almost as scowly as Woody. Not as attractive, though. His nose was too big, and his chin too round. And his eyes? They looked a little…dead. Cold like a fish lying in a display at the fish market.
"I'd only get in trouble if I was caught," he said. "Who's here to see me?"
"I'm here," I pointed out. "I could tell my father what happened."
Silas smirked. "Didn't you just get done telling me he doesn't see other people, including you? You think he's really going to give a shit what I do to you, as long as I don't leave bruises?"
Crap, I had said that, hadn't I?
"He doesn't care about me," I said carefully. "He cares about what he can get for me. Even if you don't leave bruises, I'll be damaged. You don'treallythink he wants me damaged or broken, do you?"
Silas shrugged. "A little bit of broken never hurt anybody."
