He got out of the car and then went around to open Eleanor’s door. Jackson was dressed casually—very casually by Deveraux standards—but as he looked around the parking lot full of trucks and beat-up cars, he guessed that even in his jeans, he still looked dressed up. He glanced at the front door, where Mateo Garcia was loitering, sitting on the hood of a red Ford Taurus. He was checking his phone. Jackson knew that meant everything was fine. If Mateo had been behind the wheel, Jackson wouldn’t have bothered getting out of the car. He hadn’t told Eleanor that he’d had three people in place at the Waffle House since this morning. She hated having a security team. She preferred his illusion that she just went places and everything was fine.
Eleanor was dressed in what Jackson thought of as her weekend attire: slacks, flats, and a cotton print top that went well under a jacket or, in this case, a cardigan. Today, she had made zero concessions to the Waffle House dress code. Jackson opened the door for her, and she walked through as if Waffle House’s were her usual Saturday brunch spot.
“He’s in the main room in the back booth,” said Jackson.
“Hello and welcome to the Waffle House!” chirped the hostess. “Can I seat you?”
“No, thank you,” said Eleanor, smiling at the young woman. “We’re meeting someone, and I believe he’s got our seats warmed up for us. Hopefully, he ordered us some hashbrowns already too.”
The hostess laughed. “I don’t know. My father always says never order for a woman if she hasn’t left written instructions and sometimes not even then.”
Eleanor laughed. “My father used to say something similar. We’ll just have to see what advice Ralph’s father gave him.”
The hostess beamed. Jackson always marveled at these moments. Eleanor was not an emotive woman, yet she had the knack for making people feel seen. The next group came in, and Eleanor moved away, following Jackson’s instructions to find Ralph. Jackson passed Devonte without making eye contact. Eleanor had seen him at least once, but he trusted that she wouldn’t say anything even if she recognized him.
Ralph was taking up a large portion of the booth, with his back to the wall. He’d laid out his suit jacket on the bench next to him and was addressing a stack of waffles in front of him.
“Well, hello, Ralph,” said Eleanor sitting down and sliding over to make room for Jackson. It made Jackson’s neck itch to have his back to the rest of the room, but having his team in place made it moderately acceptable.
“Eleanor,” said Ralph, finishing his bite and running his tongue over his teeth. Ralph was a wide-bellied man who wore suspenders and was currently sporting a mustache. Jackson couldn’t say he cared for it. It looked small on his face.
“Hi Ralph,” said Jackson.
“That’s Mr. Taggert to you,” said Ralph, pointing his fork at Jackson. “I don’t like you.”
“Don’t be grumpy, Ralph,” Eleanor said, placing her purse beside Ralph’s jacket. “It starts us out on the wrong note.” She raised her hand and waved at the waitress.
“You shouldn’t have brought him,” said Ralph sourly.
“Well, he’s never been to a Waffle House before,” said Eleanor. “I have to give him new experiences.”
“I would have thought being out of prison would be enough,” snapped Ralph.
“I believe freedom as a United States citizen includes the right to waffles.”
Ralph stared at Eleanor in consternation while Jackson bit the side of his tongue to stop laughing. Eleanor had sounded precisely like Dominique. It was just that when Eleanor did it, no one could tell if she was joking or not.
“Hey folks,” said the waitress, pulling a pad out of her apron without making eye contact. “What can I get you?”
“I’ll have a single Pecan waffle with a side of hashbrowns, scattered, smothered, and covered, please,” said Eleanor. She hadn’t looked at the menu. Jackson assumed that she’d either prepped up for the meeting by looking online or was ordering from childhood memory.
“Sure thing. Anything to drink with that?”
“Just some coffee. Decaf, please.”
“No problem. What about you, hon?” the waitress turned to Jackson.
Jackson glanced at the menu in front of him and picked the first thing that jumped out at him. “All-Star Breakfast. Two eggs, over-easy, whole wheat toast, and I guess I’ll try the country ham.”
“It’s an extra buck. That OK?”
“Yes,” said Jackson. “Just water to drink.”
“You got it,” said the waitress and left.
“Didn’t think you’d care for this locale,” said Ralph, eyeing Eleanor in annoyance.
“What’s wrong with a Waffle House?” asked Eleanor, looking around with an expression that was too innocent. Jackson could tell that she was having fun putting Ralph in his place.
