Page 6

Crew

I wasn’t expecting to spend my Monday night in the back of a crowded bar that smells like beer and something distinctly s weaty . When my boss called and asked to meet, I expected dinner. I figured we’d iron out the final details of our new arrangement. Talk logistics. But I certainly wasn’t expecting this:

Boots clank against the old wooden floors, and the sound of pints slamming together fills the hall. Lines of people dance to some country line-dance. Blue Saloon , the flickering neon sign on the wall reads, covering the crowd in a sheen of fluorescent red. Music hollers from a stage centered at the back of the dance floor where a band belts out a folksy jig.

No, this isn’t what I was expecting at all. Not just because it’s not the kind of scene I would normally be caught dead in… It’s not the place I pictured Harvey or Olivia in either.

Peanut shells litter the floor, and the crowd is a wave of denim and cowboy boots. I almost don’t recognize Harvey when he strolls through the swinging entry doors, thumbs hooked in the loop of his enormous silver belt buckle. That paired with his brown boots, plaid shirt, and denim jeans, and he fits right in with the place.

He spots me immediately. I’m the only one not wearing a cowboy hat, and from my view from the bar, I stand out like a sore thumb. I dip my chin in greeting as he leans against the bartop.

“Mr. Hughes.”

“What’re you drinking?”

“I’m fine, Sir. Thank you.”

He orders a soda before plopping down in a seat and looking around with a pleasant smile. “I haven’t been to a honky tonk in ages. Ever been?” he asks just as the singer at center-stage belts a high note.

“Can’t say I have, Sir.”

A laugh barrels out of him. “This used to be the thing to do years ago. My wife- my late wife, I mean- she used to love a good slow dance.” I crack a small smile at that as the bartender drops a drink down. Harvey surveys the club over the rim of it. “Does tomorrow at Aspen House work for dinner? Maybe 7? Figure it’s as good a time as any to talk about the new living arrangement.”

I nod. “I’m sure Taylor and I can swing that.” I notice a group of men holler from the corner, and Harvey waves in greeting. Likely some work colleagues from the look of them.

“The work never stops,” he comments casually, squeezing a lime wedge into his drink. “Have you seen my daughter yet?”

As he says the words, I see a flash of gold by the doors. I notice lots of things when I take in a room. But tonight, I notice her first. Olivia Hughes is like sunshine on a cloudy day. In a dark room full of people humming to the band, her golden hair and light eyes make everything feel like it’s burning. I’ve always noticed her. It’s impossible not to, but something about that casual bravado still feels forced to me.

Her eyes bounce over the crowd, and when they land on her father, her face lights up. She hops down the steps leading to the dance floor, disappearing into the swarm of bodies. It’s several moments before she pops up between Harvey and I.

“Good to see you.” Harvey kisses her cheek, and her blonde ponytail falls over her shoulder as she leans across the bar.

“Have anything good?” she asks the bartender.

The man- probably around her age- melts like butter on a hot day, dropping everything to tend to her. “Tell me what you like, and I’ll make you a double.”

I know an interested man when I see one. Yet she’s completely oblivious to the effect she has on him, glancing toward her dad in question. “What are you having?”

“Just club soda,” Harvey takes a slow sip, and Olivia’s eyes float to me, body twisting as she acknowledges me for the first time tonight.

“And you?” she asks, eyes narrowing slightly.

It’s the only indication that the tension between us isn’t imagined. There is tension. Maybe because one of the last things I did the last time we met was call her a liar. Maybe it’s that every time she lays eyes on me, she stifles a frown. She smiles for everyone else. But her frowns are reserved for me.

“Nothing for me.”

“Soda with lime then, please.” She slaps a couple of bills on the counter.

The bartender deflates. “Alrighty then.”

She turns, leaving the man lingering after her, but her attention quickly finds Harvey again. “I’m glad you came tonight. Even if it is for work.”

Harvey pinches her cheek. “I didn’t come for work. This-” he motions to the noise and chaos around us. “This is all for you.”

“You flatter me, Dad but… You should probably let them know. For clarity’s sake.” She waves at Harvey’s colleagues across the bar.

He swallows off the last of his drink before squeezing Olivia’s shoulder. “You’re right. Just a few minutes.”

He disappears, and despite the music, he leaves a wide gap of silence behind. I’m not uncomfortable with it. Silence and I are close friends.

People usually tell me what I need to know about them. Everyone has a tell. But something about the way she’s looking at me right now has me wondering if I’ve gotten too cocky. There’s this gentle curiosity in her eye. Not a challenge. Just the slightest gleam, telling me she doesn’t quite know what to make of me either.

It rubs me wrong- not knowing her tells.

“Warden.” She spins her glass, turning to face the crowd like I am.

“Ms. Hughes.”

This encounter will go just like last time: Silence. The occasional moment of eye contact. Frowning.

She clears her throat, tapping the rim of her drink with a perfectly manicured nail. “So what’s your scene?”

I hide my confusion with a glance across the club, keenly aware of everyone weaving across the space. “Excuse me?”

“Your scene,” she repeats. “I don’t pin you as a line-dancing, dive-bar type of guy. So… What’s your scene?”

We shouldn’t have this conversation , a voice warns.

If this is going to work, it’s best to keep things professional. Another part of me points out the fact that she’s right.

This isn’t my scene.

“My job is to keep you safe, Ms. Hughes. Not make friends.”

Her smile grows tight. Polite. “Did my father happen to mention what the job entails? Or am I supposed to trust you because he’s the one signing your check?”

“If there’s one thing to know about me, it’s that I take my job seriously, Ms. Hughes. We don’t have to be friends for you to trust that I’ve never failed before… That doesn’t change now.”

She scoffs at that, not quite looking at me. “It’s nothing against you personally. Trust just seems silly when you’re being paid for it.”

I watch as she raises her glass and takes a slow sip, eyes drinking in my reaction carefully. She makes a valid point. Trust in my line of work is about credibility. I built my reputation at Viserion and even before that in the military. Protecting comes easily. But maybe it’s unrealistic to ask someone to blindly trust me if it really came down to it.

I lean back, gaze still focused on the crowd. “What do you want to know?”

“Anything.”

“Be specific.”

“I already know you worked for Char-” She stops herself suddenly, and I can easily name the wave of hurt that flashes across her face.

Not my business , I remind myself.

She clears her throat. “The Benenatis. What about before?”

“Before that, I was a bartender.”

Her eyes flash in surprise, but she remains otherwise neutral. “Interesting. Military background somewhere, I’m guessing?”

“Only eight years. Military academy and all.”

“Discharged?”

“Honorably.”

“Purple heart and everything?” she teases with a smile.

I nearly crack at that. Nearly. “Wouldn’t that be a story.”

She nods at my nonchalant answer, and when she briefly catches her father’s attention and smiles again, it seems to dawn on her that there isn’t anything she can do at this point.

The deal is done.

“My father trusts you.” I’m not sure whether she says it more to convince herself of it or to tell me.

“We’ve talked a great deal about the specifics.”

Even if he lied to me about his daughter knowing the plan .

I continue, “I assure you, we’ve been very thorough.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Another smile but this time, it’s more to herself. “How many of you are there?”

“Two. For now. Myself and my colleague, Taylor Bishop. Your father’s planning a dinner tomorrow night. You’ll meet him then.”

“Will you be full-time?”

“Yes, ma'am.” I catch her eye. “The original plan was to live- in at Aspen House. Trade-out every other day and weekends. That will have to be revised.”

She nods. “I have a guest room. Well, my office. But I can- rearrange.”

“Thank you.” I nod, meaning it. “We’ll keep to ourselves. May need to arrange with your father occasionally. We’ll have someone else detailing him. But if all goes according to plan, it will be like we’re invisible.”

She lets out something of a laugh at that. Her eyes flicker over my black henley right down to my khaki pants and boots. “I have a hard time believing that.”

“Button!” Harvey hollers over the crowd, and my eyes dart toward him as he motions his daughter over. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet! Come ‘ere.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow then, Warden?” She turns toward me again. She extends a slender hand, and I watch her for a moment before accepting it.

“It’s a plan.”

We shake once before she draws back. “Oh, and bring your resume. Taylor’s too. Never hurts to verify.”

From the look on her face, I can tell she’s only joking, but as she saunters off, I find myself reaching for the ring on the chain around my neck. The motion is a habit- a nasty one I’ve been itching to break in the years since it started.

But even as Olivia crosses the bar, I get the distinct impression she’s not going to be like other clients.