Still thinking, I realize Lauren may want to grab a beer tonight. Things with her and Blake are weird. She didn’t call after we talked on blizzard Wednesday, but we’ve texted back and forth. When I asked her about Blake, she was evasive and noncommittal, and Lauren isn’t like that normally.
“Or you could come both nights,” Sam says, swiping another chip.
“Really? That’s so cool.” I clap my hands. “I’ve never been to a concert.”
He stops with a chip halfway to his mouth. “What? You’ve never been to a concert?”
“No. Couldn’t afford it. Well, I’ve been to some free shows in Grant Park. Stuff like that.”
He chuckles. “Well then, I’m glad I can pop your concert cherry.”
I groan. “Gross.” I eat the last bite of my sandwich and sip the last of my drink. “I need to get back.” I also want to stop in and check on Bobby.
“You’re going to check on Bobby again, aren’t you?” Sam stands and holds his hand out to me.
I take his hand. I slide on my coat and grab my purse. “Maybe.” I smile up at him. “Thanks for lunch.” I go up onmy tiptoes and give him a little kiss on the cheek. Appropriate for the venue. We walk back to the store. I kiss him quickly, this time on the mouth, but still a chaste little kiss. Again, appropriate to the location. I pick an imaginary piece of lint off the lapel of his coat—just an excuse to touch him. “Maybe I’ll see you tonight.”
“If you come, text me when you get to the Center. I’ll come and find you. Okay? Actually, text me either way, babe. Will you do that?”
“Sure thing.” I watch him head down the escalator. I wave when he looks back at me, then step into the store. As I expected, Theresa is waiting for me, and she’s very angry. “Don’t say it. I’m going over to talk to him right now.”
“He left. Carl sent him home.”
“He didn’t get fired, did he?”
“No. Thankfully. I talked Carl out of it.”
“Thanks, Theresa.”
“I didn’t do it foryou, MacKenzie.”
My boss is pissed. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. I really don’t blame her for being mad.
“I warned you. He’s sensitive.”
“I know, Theresa. I forgot about lunch. It happens. I didn’t do it on purpose.”Shit.
Her face isn’t quite so angry now. “I know. It’s just that my brother is autistic, and Bobby reminds me a lot of him.”
“I’m sorry about that. I really am. But Bobby is not my responsibility. I like him. He’s sweet and funny, or I thought he was.”
“Thought he was? Of course, he’s sweet.”
“Well, when he was in the back room stabbing the table with a knife, I thought that maybe I was wrong—that I should be worried—that he’s not quite so sweet.”
“A knife?”
“A steak knife. Not a big knife, but it was just a little scary to see.” I take a deep breath. “I know you’re upset with me, but you aren’t more upset than I am at myself. I hate that I hurt him. I’m going to try to make it up to him. But I don’t need a lecture.”
She nods curtly at me and walks into our back room.
I guess this conversation is over. Probably for the best.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
SHOWTIME
After lunch,I head to the United Center. We’ve got a lot to do before our client gets to the venue. My crew is already there when I arrive to meet with them to review the night’s plan. When everyone is miked up, we spread through the building to test our equipment. Once communications are checked out, we regroup as the first of Shyanne’s entourage arrives. The stage crew has been here for two days, setting up. Her hair, makeup, and costume people are here. Her dressing room is ready to go; the staging area where she’ll do costume changes is prepped. One of my female agents will work in the staging area; another will work in her dressing room.
