Page 8 of Glamour and Grit

I calm down some on the ride to the security office. Emory’s presence is soothing to me. She’s been through Hell and come out stronger on the other side. I wish I had her moxie right now. I’ve got half a mind to paint myself to look like a rock and go hide on a hillside somewhere.

The office occupies a nice, newly remodeled building in a moderately crummy neighborhood. Emory hugs me tight before letting me get out of her car.

“Jax is expecting you. Want me to wait here until you make it inside?” she asks.

“Oh no, I’ve taken up enough of your time. I’ll be okay.”

“Alright. Be brave, sweetie, and don’t give up hope that you’re going to find your brother alive and well, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks again.”

“Anytime. Call me if you need something, day or night.”

“I will, take care of yourself.”

I watch her taillights dwindle in the night. The warmth of her presence dwindles with them. Suddenly fearful, I rush inside the office and find myself in a darkened lobby. I can see a pool table from light slanting in through the half drawn blinds. The smell of cigar smoke emanates from a nearby office door.

The door spills out an irregular rectangle of light into the lobby. I follow the light, the smell, and the sound of ice clinking in a glass. I come upon a leanly muscled man sitting behind the room’s one desk, bent over stacks of bundled paper and three different devices open to spreadsheets.

“You must be Selene. Emory told me to expect you. I’m Jax. Excuse the clutter, I’m just catching up on paperwork. Sorry about the smell. I gave up smoking for my wife, so I thought I’d give this clove cigar a try.”

“Nice to meet you. A cluttered desk is the least upsetting thing I've seen all night. And I like the smell of cloves.”

“No doubt. I’ve heard some of your situation already. If you could be patient for a moment, my agent should be arriving at any minute. Fortunately, he was in the general area and available.”

“Your agent. Sounds so official.” My voice trembles even as I try to sound casual. I haven’t been this shook in a long time.

“I think you’ll find he’s more than capable and qualified.”

I heave a long sigh and fidget, steepling my fingers. It happens a lot when I don't have anything to do with my hands.

“I’m sure. It’s just…this whole thing with my brother has been so surreal, you know?”

I look up at him, my lips pursing into a frown. He listens patiently, waiting for me to go on.

“But now that I’m hiring an ‘agent’ to help me find my brother and keep my body bullet free, I guess it makes it all real. Does that make any sense?”

Jax nods. “It makes perfect sense. I think you’ll find a lot of people in this office who understand what trauma and shock can do to a person. But you’re taking action, and making a good decision.”

I laugh softly, though it doesn’t quite cheer me up.

“You don’t have to keep making your sales pitch, I’ve already decided to hire you.”

He chuckles and shrugs. “Force of habit, I suppose.” He looks around the office wistfully. “It seems like just yesterday that this place was on the verge of falling apart, and I had zero clients and an empty fridge. Time has a way of catching up with you.”

I shudder. I hope time hasn't caught up with Justin. He doesn’t deserve to die. I hope he is ok.

Jax clears his throat. “You know, my brother Bastian used to get introuble all the time. Big trouble. But he turned out alright in the end. One time–”

A heavy door slams outside, followed by some unintelligible shouting and laughter. Heavy footsteps clomp into the front door. I turn to the office entrance just in time to see a blonde Adonis with eyes as green as fresh spring leaves saunter inside.

TheRamonesT-shirt on his chest has seen better days, and his appearance is what could be best described as scruffy, but he’s got that dirty hot vibe that some women love. Like me. Damn.

“Dane Vaughn, reporting for duty, Sir,” the new arrival says, snapping off a salute. “Just this once, though. I ain’t signing no long term contracts or nothing like that.”

Jax’s nose wrinkles in distaste.

“Dane, is that…is that blood on your shirt?”

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