Deacon crosses the room as Rocker closes his locker and waits. "I was wondering if you'd like to help with one of my security gigs next weekend? My company is running security for a couple of writers and we are short one man."
"Uh, okay. Your teammates aren't available?" Rocker slips his hands into his pockets. With difficulty, Deacon ignores the way Rocker fills out his polo shirt.
"I didn't ask them," Deacon says. "Because these writers are Ukrainian and I remembered you mentioned you like Russian lit." His smile fades around the edges when he realizes what he is actually saying and he stammers, "Which may not be Ukrainian lit. Uh, I'm not fully certain. But I thought you might be interested."
"I do read Ukrainian literature too," Rocker says with a little smile.
Deacon's relieved. "So you'll be able to do the gig?"
"Sure."
"Great. I'll send you the brief later tonight, and I'll pick you up Saturday morning at 1100."
---
Arriving at Rocker's at 10.45am, Deacon wonders if he should have brought some coffee up with him together with the bagels. But he doesn't know Rocker's coffee order.
You could have asked, his mind supplies.
But Deacon thinks, I don't want to be overly friendly.
It's just coffee. And you already have bagels. And you remember that he likes Russian literature.
It's not the same thing. Deacon wonders why he's arguing with himself over something so trivial, which is why he's caught off guard when the door opens and he is welcomed by Donovan Rocker in a crisp white shirt and black tie, looking like James Bond or a top menswear model.
"Hey," Rocker says. "You're early. Come on in, I need to put on my holsters and jacket."
Deacon goes into the apartment and takes in the space. It's a nice apartment, suitable for a bachelor or a couple. The walls are painted a very pale cream, but one wall is a dark purple hue; Rocker's turned that into a photo gallery, with the pictures set in white frames. Most are of 50-Squad, a couple are of Rocker in his academy days, and one of him on his wedding day, him and Val looking resplendent and young and full of love. Deacon is surprised that Rocker has that photo on display, but he guesses that the two of them are still friendly. From what little he's heard, Rocker's split from his ex has been amicable.
There are colorful paintings - two of which are Rocker's own art, he thinks, recognizing the style - on the walls of the hallway, two sturdy bookshelves full of books organized somewhat haphazardly, a very plush leather couch with an ottoman, and a handful of mismatched mugs scattered around.
Rocker returns to the living room with his overnight bag, his holster framing his chest in a way that makes Deacon's throat go dry and his fingers twitch. "Sorry for the wait. Hey, I was wondering if it'll be, um, unprofessional if I asked them for autographs? I have their anthologies and, I mean, I never thought I'd meet them. But I don't want to reflect poorly on your company."
"Take a couple of your books along," Deacon says with a warm smile. "We can ask for them to sign the books when we meet them at the hotel."
As they get into Deacon's car, he says, "I didn't know you know Slavic languages."
"I don't," says Rockers, securing the seatbelt. "I read translations only. I'm terrible with languages, if you must know." He catches Deacon's gaze in the rearview mirror. "I know you speak French."
"Oui, mais cela fait de nombreuses années que je ne l'ai pas vraiment utilisé," Deacon replies with a smirk, and the smirk deepens when he notices Rocker glancing away. Are his cheeks pink? Smiling now, he adds, "We'll meet Grant, Jacobs, Tao and Warner when we get there, sort out shift details, and then I'll introduce you to our clients."
"It's for the weekend, right? What's the sleeping arrangements like?"
Deacon's jaw twitches. "Three rooms, six people." He breathes out and forces his fingers to relax on the steering wheel. "You can choose to share the room with Grant, Warner or me."
"Jacobs and Tao?"
"Women."
"Ah, okay."
---
It is a simple protection detail for the two writers who were picked up at LAX by Tao and Grant. Deacon introduces Rocker to Olena Tsupko and Dmytro Kyva ("call me Dimi" he says as he shakes hands). Rocker looks almost starstruck when they signed his books and Deacon takes a few photos of them before Rocker puts on his professional demeanor. The event organizers and the team as well as their clients talk about how the weekend will proceed. Book talk and autograph session tonight, round of TV and radio and podcast interviews the next day, an honorary banquet Sunday night, and then handover to another security company for their flight to New York.
Once that is sorted, Deacon and Rocker walk through the hotel's public areas and the location for the signing in the evening, taking note of choke points, exit routes and blind spots. Then they retrieve their overnight bags from Deacon's car. Neither of them talk about the elephant in the room, however, until Deacon gets three sets of keys from the check-in counter, handing the first set to Tao. Warner and Jacobs are already on duty, standing watch upstairs with their clients as they prepare for the event.
"We're all on the same floor as Olena and Dimi," says Deacon. "Rocker? You wanna pick your roommate?"
"The devil you know. I'll stick with you, Deac."
Grant takes the second set of keys. "Not like Warner's snoring will be my problem since we have different shifts."
But Deacon feels his heart racing as they go upstairs to their rooms.
It's not like they'll have time for anything, he reasons with himself. All hands have to be on deck for the signing. Then he and Rocker are taking turns to cover as a floater for the first and second shift of the night, before they take the third shift together, and then they get perhaps four to six hours rest while Grant and Warner take morning TV interview duty; Tao and Jacobs will cover the radio and podcast interviews. Rocker and Deacon will have to get to the banquet location to recon the layout again and work out details with the existing team covering the banquet proper.
That's four to six hours where you and him are alone in the same room, he thinks, but they're already walking down the corridor to their rooms and Rocker's already claiming the bed next to the window and shucking out of his jacket and holster and shirt, folding them neatly over a chair, leaving only his undershirt on.
"There's still two hours to the talk," he says as if answering a question. "I'm taking a nap."
Deacon drops his bag on his bed and clears his throat. "I'll go make sure Jacobs and Warner are doing okay."
The cool thing about working in the service industry during the holiday season is that people love to wish you a Merry Christmas and give you special Christmas tips and all you have to do is remember 99 things at once for 99 different people, smile at all times and laugh at everything you hear.
I’ve been working so much that I’m 99.9% sure I’m going to lose my actual mind and the snow just started coming down heavy, so tomorrow I’m taking a snow day before I lose what’s left of my mind.
I’ve been meaning to tell this quick story since last weekend.
I was at my weekend job (a gas station), and everything was fine, everything was normal, until an elderly woman came in. I never seen her before, and based on the questions she asked me I could tell she wasn’t from around here. She asked if she would have the gas pump turned on so she could fill up her car.
I work at a gas station where it’s prepaid, but if the customer doesn’t know how much they need in gas, then we can turn it on fro them, but they need to leave something with the cashier as a means to ‘prevent’ a drive off, like an ID or the car keys. It’s fairly normal to have some people come in and not know that, and for the most part they understand and there is no hard feelings.
Well, for some reason, this woman took me explaining this to her as a means to assume the last thing I would have expected someone to think of me.
“Well, just what I expected from a Trump supporter.”
I was stunned.
Not once in that brief conversation did I mentioned my thoughts on Trump, or whether I even supported him (fyi, I don’t), but somehow this elderly women came to that conclusion based solely on me telling her why I needed her ID or her car keys so I could turn the pump on for her.
It was such a bizarre moment I could barely reply by the time she left her ID with me and went out to get her gas. When she came back, I politely said that I didn’t even vote for Trump, but I don’t even know if she believed me or not.
Just...wow. I would have never seen that one coming.
anyone else feel like their job is taking a lot of studying time away....? really underestimated the impact it would have lol cos i just don’t have the energy to revise after work even though i do have the time
You can all pray for me because caregiving job this morning is one of the messiest days I've ever experienced re; human waste.
But don't pray too much because in a drawn out way I did bring this on myself karmically. In ways I cannot bare to describe, but are funny, this is partial justice.
