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“Sabre, it’s nice to see you again.”
“You too, Chef.”
“You’re dressed for work, I see,” she says, giving me a polite little smile.
I tug at the collar of my shirt because it’s just a tad too tight. “I’ve been so busy blendin’ in I forgot I was wearing a suit.”
“So, you really work security for the Savage Legion Security firm?”
“Yes, ma’am. It’s how I keep myself in gas money, steak, and knives.”
“Well, you look nice tonight.” As if realizing how that could sound, she adds, “Not that you didn’t look nice in your leather vest.”
“Yeah, I do okay as long as the lightin’ is good.”
She shoots me a polite smile. “Well, I hope nothing out of pocket happens tonight.”
“We’ve been providin’ security for this function for the last three years and nothing dangerous has happened yet, Chef. We even have a paramedic on our team who brought his bag just in case anyone has a medical emergency.”
Her expression turns serious. “I’m really relieved to hear that, Sabre. I imagine your company is worth its weight in gold.”
“Tex calls it a value-added bonus. It’s apparently also good marketing.”
“I can believe it.”
Talon’s voice comes through my earpiece, “Thought you weren’t gonna focus on the chef, brother.”
He’s standing across the room smirking at me. I’d like to tell him to fuck off but then Linsey would know we’re having a disagreement. Before I can take my leave, someone calls her to the kitchen.
She rushes off, excusing herself over her shoulder. She’s got a whole mess of dinner plates to get out and no time to waste talking to me. Seeing her in action is turning out to be the best part of my whole week.
I keep walking the room and see the last thing I expect. One of the kids from the military and model expo is tucked away just inside the staff break room. I see him through the door when someone walks out. He’s got a thick book of some sort and sitting right on top of it is a model tank. It looks like a Sherman.
I move closer to the door and open it with one hand. The kid has homework spread out in front of him, but he ain’t doing any of it. Instead, he’s staring at the tank model, running his fingers over the details.
Linsey walks past, catching sight of me. “That’s Noah,” she says seriously. “He’s my son. There was a military model expo here earlier and my Aunt Carol’s car got a flat, so she couldn’t pick him up like we planned. I told him he could stay in the break room until I finish work and we’ll ride home together. Both my employer and the civic center okayed it.”
I keep my face bland. “There ain’t nothin’ wrong about a boy waitin’ on his mama to finish work.”
She relaxes. “Noah,” she says, “this is Sabre. He took my steak class. He’s working security tonight. Say hello.”
He looks up at me, and I see his mama’s likeness in his features. Except he’s watchful and careful, taking a minute to look from me, to his mother, and back again, before responding.
I move forward and extend my hand. He’s actin’ like a grown-up, sitting here by himself, so I treat him like one.
“It’s nice to meet you, sir.”
He shakes my hand solemnly. “Are you in the military?”
“I was in the Army,” I tell him.
His face brightens as our hands separate. “Did you ever go to war?”
Linsey goes still beside me, and I instinctively know she doesn’t approve of that question. The thing is, kids don’t always think before they ask, nor are they aware of how appropriate or inappropriate a question is sometimes. So, I answer as casually as possible, “Yeah, it was a long time ago, though.”
He immediately shoots me another question. “What did you do over there?”
“I carried around a lot of heavy gear, followed orders, ate a lot of crappy food, and learned to stand where I could see all the doors.”
