“We have several employees who have asked for more hours, sir. I think we’ll manage until we find someone to take Harding’s spot.”
“Good. I accept your resignation, Harding. I appreciate you discussing the particulars with me. I hope everything works out. And please know that if you need anything, you only need to call.”
The tension he didn’t know he’d been holding disappeared with those brusque, but kind, words. “Thank you, Mr. Mak.”
Preston hung up. “All good, Irish?”
“It’s a relief. Thank you, sir.”
Preston made a face, but stood and shook Zeke’s hand. “Seriously, doesn’t all that formality ever get stuck in your craw?”
“Old habit, sir.” Zeke grinned and gave Preston’s hand an extra shake. “Guess I should clean out my locker.”
In another unusual move, Preston followed him back to the Suits’ building. It didn’t take long for Zeke to clean out his items; he rarely kept more than a spare suit in there anyway. Task finished, he fished his ID badge from his pocket and handed it over. “Anything else?”
“Nope.” Preston tapped the badge absently against his palm. “What are you going to do now?”
“Buying a bookstore.”
“No shit?”
Zeke shook his head.
“Why?”
“When all the–” He gestured lamely toward his back. “–well, that, happened, I promised myself that if I made it out, I’d buy a bookstore.”
“Kind of an odd choice for a security specialist, isn’t it? Why not a gun store?”
“I love books.” His throat tightened a little and he fiddled with his suit’s hanger. “The guys who were trapped with me were treated even worse than I was. Every time we got dragged back to our cell, the only way I could get them to forget the pain was by telling them stories.” He cleared his throat awkwardly, wishing the ache would go away. “I recited every goddamn fairy tale I knew. Every poem my mother had made me memorize. I even tried to recite all the other books I’d ever read. Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Hardy. Fuck, even Jane Austen. It was an escape. You asked what I was saving my money for? My realtor’s found a few places she thinks I might like.”
“Are you looking around here?”
“Not too many places around here. But I need to talk to Viv first.”
Preston nodded understandingly. “I hope it works out, Irish. Call me if you end up buying a place. I’ll drop in and buy something.”
“Sure thing.” He shook hands with Preston one last time, realizing that this was it. This chapter of his life was ending. “Thanks for everything, sir.”
“Of course.”
He was almost to the door when Preston called out behind him, “Good working with you, Zeke.”
He rested his hand on the doorknob, but looked back. “You too, Preston.”
The first trails of sunlight were tingeing the sky when he got back to his car. His newfound freedom whispered from the quiet morning streets. He’d done it. He’d finally done it.
Divine Twins was busy when he arrived. He waited patiently in line while the people ahead of him ordered coffee, office snacks, breakfasts to go. Only a few remained to eat at the tables, most of them reading newspapers or talking with each other as only old familiar friends could.
The woman behind the counter gave him a bright smile when he stepped up to order. “How can I help you?”
“I’m here to see Viv,” he said. Seeing the woman’s confusion, he quickly added, “Can you tell her Zeke’s here?”
“Of course. Do you have a moment to wait while I help these other customers?”
“Sure.” He stepped to the side, letting the drone of the bakery buzz around him while he examined the offerings in the glass case. It wasn’t until a dark form stepped beside him that he realized John had been calling his name. He straightened, surprised to see his friend there at the early hour, and gave him a hug.
“Sorry, John. Didn’t hear you.”