Page 12 of Something Like Hail

“When people ask about you.Getting right to the heart like that is going to bring them down.Sounds mean, I know, but most clients want to have a good time.Especially at first. There’s room for the deep stufflater.”

Noah felt his face turning red, but not fromembarrassment this time. “You’re not a client.”

“No! Of course not. Butwe’re practicing.”

“We are?” He wanted to takethe words back the second they slipped free. When Harold had askedif Noah wanted to go on a date earlier, he hadn’t meant in theromantic sense. This was a training exercise. Why else would heneed to wear the stupid outfit? Noah sat up instead of slouching,suddenly aware of his table manners.

“I wish I could go on areal date with you,” Harold said generously. He too had picked upon the misunderstanding. “Man, wouldn’t that be nice! Only downsideto this line of work, it kind of requires you to staysingle.”

“I knew that,” Noah said.“Sorry. I have a weird sense of humor.”

“And I can be dense. My dadhas been telling me that my entire life.”

Noah managed a laugh, then shoved more foodin his mouth. God this was awkward! He decided the only way to fixthe situation was to prove how professional he could be. “I grew upin a small town called Fort Stockton. I’m a farm boy, and I likedthat life, but when all my friends started chasing after girlsinstead of me, I decided the big city might have what I need.”

“That’s good!” Harold said.“Like I said, you don’t have to lie or always censor yourself. It’sjust that most heart-to-hearts happen later in the evening. After afew drinks.”

“Got it. What else should Iknow?”

“How to keep conversationgoing.”

Harold left it at that, finally turning hisattention to his food. Noah waited for him to say more, and when hedidn’t, realized this was another test.

“Tell me about yourself,”Noah tried.

“Ugh. I’m boring. Twelvehours in the office each day and nearly as much on the weekends.All I do is work.”

“What sort ofwork?”

“Computers. Honestly, if Ihave to think about my job for one second more, I’ll gonuts.”

Okay. Someone who didn’t want to talk abouthis life. Noah knew that blabbing on and on about himself was rudeso… “I read an article the other day about how they want toterraform Mars and make it a green planet. It’s all theories andsci-fi right now, but could you imagine moving to anotherworld?”

Harold crinkled his nose as if notinterested. “Space travel?”

“Yeah! Just imagine… Movingto another town or state can broaden your horizons. A new countryis an even bigger change, but an entirely different planet? Thinkof the potential! You could reinvent yourself. What would you be ifyou could start over from scratch?”

“All I know iscomputers…”

“Doesn’t matter. Start withyour name. Choose a different one.”

Harold cracked a smile. “Emperor Llama.”

Noah laughed. “And what’s the first thingEmperor Llama does when he wakes up in the morning on Mars?”

Harold nodded approvingly. “You’regood!”

“I’m still waiting for ananswer.”

Harold put on a thoughtful expression. “Heeats an entire pie. All by himself. No forks or spoons. He justshoves his face right in and pigs out.”

“They have pie here,” Noahsaid. “I saw it on the menu. We could get one to go.”

Harold raised an eyebrow. “Maybe we should.I’d like to see what you and our imaginary client do with it.”

“Feel free to hire mesometime,” Noah said coolly, when really the idea alone made himwant to jump up and down while giggling. “So tell me more aboutyou. I’m tired of Emperor Llama or whatever his real name is. Tellme about Harold.”

“Now I’m on the spot,huh?”