The Mogul And The Muscle

The article had a photo of Cameron with some rich pansy in a suit—the kind of guy who’d be no help in a crisis. It wasn’t that he was tall and lean—almost skinny—that gave it away, nor that he was dressed in an expensive suit. I could see it in his eyes. In his posture. He was the kind of guy who’d crumble in the face of danger.

I didn’t believe every woman needed a man in her life to protect her. But a woman like this—a billionaire CEO—could find herself a target of the wrong people for any number of reasons. Paid security was one thing, but a partner who could hold his own would be good for someone like her.

I put my phone down, realizing I was analyzing the story like she was an asset in a mission or a fellow operative. I needed to stop thinking like that.

The door opened and a woman in a light blue shirt came in. She had blond hair, cut in a short bob, a mid-length floral skirt, and sandals. She spotted me and lifted her hand in a hesitant wave.

I smiled, and she came over to my table. I stood and we exchanged a slightly awkward hug.

With a deep breath, I took my seat. I wasn’t nervous, exactly. It was hard to get nervous anymore. But I’d been out with a bunch of different women over the last couple of years, and never seemed to connect with anyone.

It wasn’t that I was wife-hunting, exactly. I wasn’t sure how I felt about marriage, although I was open to it if it seemed right. But I was well past the I just want to hook up phase, and not really into let’s just be casual and fuck sometimes. I was hoping for an actual relationship with someone interesting.

But normal. Ordinary. Not a woman who carried twenty concealed weapons underneath a black minidress and could use her stilettos as backup if necessary.

“Hey,” Karen said, getting settled in her chair. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too.”

Seconds ticked by in silence. I rubbed my palms on my thighs beneath the table. I wasn’t good at this part. I could face down a corrupt senator and threaten to out him to the rival mafia factions he was scamming, but I couldn’t make small talk with a woman in a restaurant.

“So,” she said, picking up the menu. “The fish tacos are good here.”

“Oh, great. I like fish tacos.”

“Me too.”

I picked up my menu for something to do with my hands. And it made the ensuing silence less awkward. The server came to take our orders and I reluctantly handed over my menu. Kind of felt like I needed it for cover.

We managed a short stint of casual conversation—mostly about the weather—while we waited for our food. The server brought our meals and we both spread our napkins on our laps.

“So what do you do?” she asked.

“I guess you could say I’m a one-man security firm. I just finished up with a client before this, actually. Although I’m planning to retire.”

“That sounds nice. What will you do with your time once you retire?

I opened my mouth to reply, but I didn’t exactly have a solid answer to that question. What did I want to do with my time? More to the point, what did normal people do when they retired? “You know, play golf. Maybe start a small business.”

“Like what?” She took a bite of her food.

“I’m not sure. Lately I’ve been thinking about a food truck. Something I can manage with just a few people. What about you? What do you do?”

“I’m a new accounts manager at a bank.”

I nodded while I chewed a bite. She was right, the fish tacos were great. “Do you enjoy it?”

“Yeah, I do. I have really great coworkers.”

“You know, bank robberies are more common than people think. Modern security technology has helped quite a bit, but the criminals keep getting smarter. You make a better lock, bad guys learn how to pick it.”

She nodded slowly. “Oh. Yeah, I suppose so.”

“And police response times can be abysmal, especially with the traffic.”

“The traffic can be bad.”

“Did you know only twenty percent of bank robbers are caught?” I took another bite.

She paused with her water halfway to her mouth. “No, I didn’t know that.”

“The best thing to do when faced with multiple armed assailants is stay calm and don’t look them in the eyes. No matter how tightly organized they are, once a job gets going, tensions are high. They’re probably nervous, even paranoid. The last thing you want to do is call attention to yourself.”