“If I tell you what I think it might be, will it ruin your radar?”
“It might. Don’t tell me. I just think something turned around for him.”
“Like a few months ago, perhaps?”
“No,” Nick said. “No, it was recent. Within days.”
“His life’s been pretty uneventful recently.”
“Were you with him recently?”
“Yeah. Yesterday.”
“Something you said to him mattered.”
“Oh.”
Jake sat up on the bed.
“Look, Nick. I’ve been thinking. I would like you to spend some time with me.”
“You mean like living together?”
“Yeah, like that. Only I’m not sure where.”
“That’s a tough one,” Nick said. “I have friends and clients here, and you have limits on where you can live.”
“I just want us to consider the concept. I bet we can make something work.”
“Well, where are you going to be in the next few weeks?” Nick asked.
“That depends,” Jake said, “on what happens in the next few hours.”
Jake withdrew a wrinkled business card from an old travel bag and went online to map the address. He dressed in his best Armani sport coat and slacks but left his long hair shaggy.
On the curb, he had a doorman hail him a cab. He expected to feel nervous on the ride but felt calm as the taxi dropped him off at a hair salon.
It was Saturday, and the salon was busy.
A woman wearing a sleek black stylist’s smock with voluptuous and pronounced curves tended to a patron at her chair. Her straight dark hair reached shoulder length, and her swarthy arms moved with graceful purpose around the head of her customer.
A receptionist stopped him.
“Who’s your appointment with?” she asked.
“Linda. Please let her know I’m here.”
“Your name please?”
“Uh, Jacob Jones.”
The receptionist angled between stylists and reached the Iraqi-American chambermaid that Jake had met long ago. Linda looked up from her chair and recognized him. She followed the receptionist back to the storefront.
“Mister Jones,” she said. “It’s good to see you again. You look familiar? Where did we meet?”
“At your other job. Maybe eight or nine months ago.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re here. Did you want to schedule an appointment? I’m unfortunately booked today.”
Jake reached into his breast pocket for a money clip and pulled out hundred dollar bills. He pinched two of them between his fingers and brandished them.
“I really, really want to see you now.”
Linda’s eyes lit up.
“That’s a lot for a cutting a man’s hair.”
“You’re taking my beard off, too. Remember how you said the mountain man thing doesn’t work? I want you to take me back to normal.”
“I’m glad the mountain man thing isn’t normal. I don’t like it.”
“It’s not me.”
“Okay, I’ll have someone finish up a client I’m working on now. I can move my schedule and get you in my chair in fifteen minutes.”
“Good, and if you like what you see when you’re done with me, you’re going to have to join me for dinner.”
“My kids.”
“I’ll pay for a babysitter.”
“I can’t ask you to.”
Jake reached again for the money clip and showed her ten more hundred dollar bills.
“I’m filthy rich, but I would give away half of it for a woman as beautiful and strong as you to listen to my story and care.”
She blushed and her tone became soft. The pupils of her brown eyes opened and invited his gaze. He sensed a connection.
“I think that will be possible,” she said. “And for less than half your fortune.”
He reached for his eyes, scratched out his brown contact lenses, and tossed them to the garbage.
“Blue eyes!” she said. “Beautiful.”
“Thanks,” he said. “And I can’t wait to tell you why I no longer give a damn about this annoying mountain man look while you rid me of it.”
“Great. That sounds like fun. Take a seat Mister Jones, and I’ll get you in my chair as soon as I can.”
“That’s not my name,” he said. “That’s what I wrote on the hotel ledger and what I just told your receptionist, but it’s a lie, like my contacts, beard, and hair.”
“This is getting interesting. What’s your real name?”
“My name,” he said. “My name is Jake Slate.”
About the Author
After graduating from the Naval Academy in 1991, John R. Monteith served on a nuclear ballistic missile submarine and then as a top-rated instructor of combat tactics at the U.S. Naval Submarine School. He now works as an engineer in the Detroit area. He writes the award-winning Rogue Submarine series.