Page 7 of Tito

“I’d like to climb inside your head for about three minutes, Old Man.” Braxton chuckled a dry laugh. “You’re a few slices shy of a full loaf.”

“You’re one to talk,” Hap spat. “You said you don’t like those dumb whores, either.”

“Oh, believe me, I’m in agreement on the Kardashians,” Braxton said. “In fact, I’d kill every one of those phony bitches, just to pass the time. Can’t stand the sight of ‘em. In fact, I escorted the Jenner girl to a function last year and I was tempted to push her in front of a speeding truck.”

“The billionaire?” Hap asked.

“No, her sister. The model.”

From my discussions with Hap, I knew Braxton worked with Hollywood types, but I had no idea what he did, specifically.

I cleared my throat. “Braxton, what is it that you do for work?”

He glanced in my direction. “I solve problems.”

“What problem did Kendall Jenner have that she needed your assistance?”

“A problem with proximity,” he said dryly.

Dissatisfied with his lackluster response I waited for further explanation.

He held my gaze while taking a slow drink of his beer. When he lowered the bottle, he let out a sigh. “She needed to parade alongside a group of five thousand screaming fans without having anyone get close enough to touch her.”

“You’re a bodyguard?”

He brushed lint from one of the lapels of his sport coat. “Like I said, I solve problems.”

I nodded in acknowledgement. “I see.”

“Tell him about your problem, Kid,” Hap said, waving his hand toward Braxton. “Brax knows people. All kinds of people.”

“I don’t have a problem,” I responded.

“It sure sounded like you did when you were whining about it this morning,” Hap said with a laugh. “Hell, you were nearly frantic. Like a teenage girl who’d dropped her phone in the toilet.”

I looked at Braxton and sighed. “My hat flew off on the freeway. Lost, and gone forever.”

Braxton stared for a lingering moment. “Sorry, I was waiting for you to continue.” He gave me a look of disbelief. “Is that it?”

“The hat was special.”

Braxton gazed across the street while rubbing the whiskers on his jaw. He appeared to either not have heard me, or he was in deep thought.

“Based on my experience in such matters,” he said, breaking the silence. “Here’s my professional opinion.” He gave me a serious look. “Get a new hat.”

“Told you he was a problem solver,” Hap chimed as if Braxton had formulated a cure for cancer. “See? Problem solved.”

I wished it was that simple. “The hat was more than special,” I explained. “Like a good luck charm. Maybe not so much a charm. It’s was more of a trademark. I’ve been wearing it for a decade.”

Braxton struggled not to smile. “You’re trying to tell me recovering from this loss is going to be difficult?”

It seemed strange hearing him say it. Nevertheless, the hat’s absence was causing real-life problems that I wasn’t prepared to deal with. Hopefully, replacing it would resolve most of them.

“I’m hoping to find another one just like it,” I said. “I’ve got someone working on it.”

Braxton retrieved another beer from the cooler. He twisted off the cap. “A hat expert?”

“Of sorts,” I replied. “She’s a manager at a clothing store.”