“Patience of a saint,”as Lucky’s mother used to say.
He read over the case list, occasionally doodling on a Post-it pad. Joshua might be a good name for a boy, and Patricia for a girl. No, too much like Patrick, a name Bo vetoed.
Patrice? Hmmm…
One case involved undercover work at a nightclub suspected of being a front for illicit drug sales. Amarillo. He’d been there, and never wanted to go again. Right up Johnson’s alley. Maybe she could take Robinson with her.
Though the admission might kill him, Salters was ready for his own case load too.
Time to start taking those two on more inspections at pharmaceutical companies. Plenty to be learned, both by companies doing things right, and companies doing things wrong. They’d save Lucky from hanging out in board rooms with pharma execs.
Felons of Atlanta, beware, though. One day Robinson might win the office betting pool for most asses kicked in a single year. Another record currently held by Lucky.
His desk phone rang.Please let it not be a rookie, please let it not be a rookie.The receptionist’s extension showed on the caller ID. A safe call then. Maybe. “Mawnin’, Lisa.” Please. No bad news.
“Um… Good morning, Mr. Harrison. Mr. Smith would like to see you in his office.”
“Sure thing.” He needed to lose the good mood before he ruined his reputation. Something to be said for starting the day with a few moments of family time—and a full breakfast of grits, eggs, and toast with real butter straight from his parent’s farm and a jar of Mom’s homemade strawberry jam. Meanwhile, Charlotte was on a black beans and scrambled eggs kick.
Bo took her side and said,“She needs the protein.”
As long as nobody expected Lucky to fill his plate with her weird food choices.
It felt good to have his family back in his life, his sister’s cravings notwithstanding. He forcefully pushed back the memory of the years spent without them. Too many lost years that he’d never get back, where they’d believed he’d provided the goods to his drug-addicted brother, nearly ending Daytona’s life.
Okay, those thoughts weren’t so easily dismissed. His good mood plunged downhill.
He rose and, before stepping into the corridor, donned his best, “look at me wrong and I’ll shoot you” demeanor. He relaxed at the boss’s office, rapping his knuckles against the door twice before entering.
“Ah, Lucky. Nice to see you today.” Walter Smith sat behind his massive desk. Hair gone more salt than pepper, and bushy gray eyebrows, served as a constant reminder of Lucky’s mentor getting older. Still a force to be reckoned with. Even the hardest-core drug lords feared Walter Smith.
A gentle hint of Bo’s cologne mingled in the air with the boss’s Old Spice. He must’ve recently left.
The normal piles of folders and papers occupied Walter’s desk, but had now spilled over onto the floor. Boxes stacked to the side contained even more files. Finally cleaning up?
“Wazzup, boss man?” Lucky plopped down in the chair he considered his, stretching his legs out in front of him and resting his hands over his stomach. Sometimes he heard good news here, sometimes bad. Sometimes Walter asked him to do things he’d rather not, like be nicer to assholes like Keith or O’Donoghue.
Might as well get comfortable. The news wouldn’t get better for him sitting up straight.
Walter kept his poker face firmly in place. Sometimes he played the role of favorite uncle, sometimes worst nightmare. He hadn’t been a nightmare to Lucky since his early—and admittedly disrespectful—days at the bureau. “Officially? You’re here to discuss case assignments. Unofficially? How’s Charlotte and the baby? Have you found out yet if it’s a boy or girl?”
“We decided to wait and see the old-fashioned way.” Why, Lucky couldn’t say. Served him right for zoning out when Bo and Charlotte broached the subject, rather than admitting he hadn’t been paying attention.
Lesson learned. Knowing would mean less time spent on choosing names.
“I understand.” Walter’s smile fell a bit. Disappointment? Did not knowing mean Walter and Mrs. Smith couldn’t go out and spend a fortune on baby clothes yet, like they’d done for Alejandro?
“They’re doing fine. Charlotte complains a lot, but she did with Todd and Ty. Wants to get it over with. She’s keeping up with her classes too.” One day she’d become the nurse she’d always dreamed of becoming.
“That’s good. I can’t wait to meet my new grandson or granddaughter.” The boss rubbed his hands together. They no longer even pretended that their relationship hadn’t grown past employer and employee.
Hell, between all the adoring family and friends, Lucky might never see his own kid.
Walter settled more fully into his chair, twirling an ink pen on his desk blotter with a finger. Nervous? Boss?
“Out with it, boss.”
Walter remained silent for several moments. He huffed out a breath. “Remember how I told you I’d been asked to retire?”
