Johnson tapped to toe of, not her normal uncomfortable-looking uniform shoes, but a pair of sturdy work boots roughly the size of Lucky’s car. She’d replaced her SNB golf shirt with a blue button-down, paired with the same type of navy pants hanging in Lucky’s closet. Lucky wore faded blue jeans, tennis shoes, and a vintage Molly Hatchet T-shirt.
“You better have a good reason for forgetting our appointment today.” Johnson punched the button for the basement parking garage.
Since when did the employee get to call out the boss?
She planted one hand on her hip, holding her coffee cup with the other. “You been walking around here in a daze since your birthday, and I’m not going away so you’d better answer me. What’s wrong?”
Oh, yeah. Since the employee topped him by a good six plus inches and came dangerously close to Lucky in the attitude department. And she gave a shit, which entitled her to some slack. Not much, but some.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Lucky added enough bark to scare off most coworkers. But not all.
“Did I ask you what you wanted?”
The door opened on two rookies. Spending the day researching illegal websites might keep the young’uns out of Lucky’s hair for a while.
Heading out into the city with Johnson saved lives today.
“You’re late again.” Lucky tried to glare without appearing to look up. Why did everyone have to be taller than him?
But to Lucky’s credit, at least he hadn’t said,“You’re late again, asswipes.”A few words of prayer from Walter every month or so kept Lucky’s tongue somewhat in check. If he’d known getting promoted meant being professional, he might have told Walter to find the nearest bureaucrat and shove the promotion up their ass.
But then the promotion might have gone to the king of all assholes, namely Keith. And his and Bo’s money-eating mortgage needed feeding.
Hmmm… Did “King Asswipe” count as unprofessional? He’d have to check. But if he stayed here giving rookies a hard time he didn’t have to spill his guts to Johnson.
Johnson grabbed his arm and yanked him off the elevator. “C’mon. You won’t talk to me, but you’ll growl at the newbies.” She pressed a hand to her chest as best she could while still clutching her coffee cup. “I’m so hurt.”
Not hurt enough to slow down on the way to her Jeep. Between the poofy hair she wore natural today and legs nearly as long as Lucky’s body, Johnson didn’t fit too well in Lucky’s Camaro, which meant she liked to drive.
He didn’t hate her driving, but why let on? So much more entertaining to criticize her sharp turns and sudden braking to keep from plowing some idiot who hadn’t left home in time and demanded anyone else get out of the way.
“Try not to trade paint with my car on your way out of here.” He hopped into the passenger seat, one hand protecting his precious coffee.
“You’ll tell me what’s got your panties in a twist eventually, so you might as well go ahead now.” Johnson made a big show of buckling in and glowering until Lucky followed suit.
He would tell her. Probably. At some point. Maybe a crumb of truth would hold her off. “I’m still working things out in my head.”
She cut a sharp glance his way when she stopped the Jeep to turn left out of the parking garage. “You’re not shitting me, are you? You’re actually planning to tell me without me having to take you to the gym and punch it out of you?” A quick jerk of the steering wheel and her flooring the gas pedal put them in traffic.
“Sooner or later, I’ll have to.” Hard not to notice her boss missing for a few weeks, especially a particularly mouthy one. Things might even get quiet without Lucky’s daily presence.
“Okay. Take your time. As long as I know by the end of today.” She slammed on the brakes to avoid a Toyota cutting into her lane, held her arm out the window, and extended her middle finger. Not fair her not having to behave professionally. Then again, maybe she’d be willing to be unprofessional on Lucky’s behalf. Yeah, could work.
He contemplated his cup so long his coffee almost got cold. Not too cold to drink, but cooler than he liked.
Coffee never got too cold to drink. Except for gawd-awful ice coffee. Brrr… Some people had no respect for good caffeine.
Lucky sighed. How he missed caffeine. He didn’t miss sleepless nights of tossing and turning, but decaf didn’t knock the early morning cobwebs out of his brain.
Johnson parked her car on a side street, about a block and a half from their destination. “You ready?”
“I’m always ready. You go ‘round the front, I’ll take the back. We meet in the middle.” He reached into the back seat, grabbed a Longhorns ball cap, and slapped it on his head.
Longhorns. Someone should tell Johnson she wasn’t in Texas anymore. She put on a roomier cap, a peel and press name tag for her shirt, and grabbed a toolbox.
And the part of lowlife thug went to Lucky, a role he’d been born to play.
To the place’s credit, the twelve-foot-high, razor wire-topped chain link fence didn’t invite trespassers, but why have a fence at all if the two-foot gap in the trucker’s gate let Lucky slither right through? Someone had a reaming coming once Lucky took a few pictures and turned in his report.
