Chapter 2

W e both froze; we hadn’t been quiet enough to escape his sharp ears. I grabbed Sheila’s shoulders and hauled her with me as I stood. We both plastered smiles on our faces and startled the man. “Sorry about that, my coworker here lost a power saw and needed help finding it.”

“A…power saw?” the man repeated.

“For cutting our way home through this storm,” I told him. “We get off in half an hour and want to be prepared for anything.”

The man looked concerned. “Am I keeping you from leaving? I can leave, if you want.” He got as far as one leg off the stool before I sighed and shook my head.

“No, it’s all right.” Sheila’s clinging hands on my arm begged to differ.

“We don’t mind staying open for a few more minutes while you finish your, um, sentient life.” I couldn’t bring myself to belittle the coffee by calling it a drink; that would hurt its feelings.

We all jumped when a door slammed at the back of the diner.

“What was that?” the stranger asked.

I rolled my eyes. “Apparently, the cook minded staying and just went home for the night. I hope you didn’t want a meal with your drink because the most we can do is scrambled eggs, and I’m not so sure about the scrambled part,” I warned him.

“No, this coffee will do.” He was being kind; the sludge blinked at him. I worried it thought he was its mother. “But are you sure you don’t want me to leave?”

“No, it’s fine.” There was that tugging on my arm again; I’d have to have that nervous twitch looked at after he left. “You must have been pretty desperate to come in here.”

“To be honest, I’m not too familiar with this part of town, and your lights looked the friendliest, so I came inside,” he told us. “A sort of sailor adrift who catches sight of land and swims to it.”

“I hope you can still swim because if this storm gets any worse, we’re all going to need to,” I quipped. The rain still beat on the windows, and an old farmhouse flew by.

The stranger took his mug and downed the rest of the contents; I hoped I hadn’t just poisoned him. “I really appreciate your kindness. Not many would serve me on this sort of night,” he mused with a sad smile.

I shrugged. “I’d keep serving at this place even if the world were coming to an end. Nobody should have to face the Rapture on an empty stomach.”

He chuckled, and those eyes twinkled. “I’d like to do something nice for you as a token of my appreciation.” He pulled out a card from an inner coat pocket and slid it over to me. I glanced down and saw an address and the letter B in a circle printed on the front. “That’s where I live.”

My mind proceeded to conjure up images of bad porn films; not that I’d seen any, of course. “I don’t really make house calls, so you’ll have to pour your own coffee,” I told him. I pushed the card toward him, and he pushed it back.

“This isn’t anything like that,” he assured me. “I’d like to interview you for a job I have in mind, and would prefer a more private setting.”

I leaned over the counter and stared him straight in the eyes. “This isn’t a sex job, is it?”

He grinned. “Quite the opposite, but are you looking for such work?”

I straightened and opened my arms to show my flabby body. “There’s plenty of folds to put the dollar bills, but I don’t think the pole could support me.”

He chuckled; this guy was easy to please. “I can see what you mean, but my offer still stands. Come to my house for the interview at eight o’clock tomorrow evening, and we’ll see what we can work out.” That worked for me; I didn’t have any college classes that late. He tossed down a twenty-dollar bill for a fifty-cent cup of coffee and slid off the stool.

The fellow wasn’t giving me much time to think about this offer, and he’d given me even less information to decide what to do. “Wait, I don’t even know your name!” I protested as he walked toward the door.

He paused and glanced over his shoulder with a dazzlingly pale smile on his face. “It’s John Benson,” he replied.

“And don’t you want to know mine?”

He shook his head. “I don’t need to know it. I’ll just call you my little Angel.”

I wasn’t modest enough to dispute the angel tag, but the little was not quite accurate. He was out the door and gone before I could say anything else.

Sheila came up to me with her hand raised and a finger pointed at the door. “H-h-he’s-”

“-gone, I know,” I finished for her.

She whipped her head to me and frowned. “Didn’t you hear his name?” she snapped at me.

“My memory hasn’t slowed up these long minutes with him,” I countered.

I noticed Sheila’s attitude had changed from a cowering coward to a giddy schoolgirl. “Then don’t you know who he is?” she whispered.

“The only things I need to know are that he’s a guy offering me a job, and I don’t have to strip to do it.”

“He’s the John Benson of Benson Investments,” Sheila explained to me.

I stared at her blankly. “He’s who of what?”

Sheila rolled her eyes. “It’s only one of the largest investing companies in the country, and he’s the head of it!”

I raised an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure I would have heard about a business with an albino at the head of it. News like that’s too good for the papers to ignore.”

“It’s because he doesn’t let anyone see him. He works from home and rarely travels.”

“Then how do you know it’s him? John Benson isn’t exactly a rare name.”

She snatched the card from my hand and pointed at the B. “See? That’s his company’s logo.”

I snatched the card back and stuffed the card into the front of my blouse. The damn thing stuck out, and I abandoned my attempt to look cool by shoving it into my pocket. “So how come you know so much about him?” I asked her. She was the type of girl who only looked at a man’s business to assess his bank account.

“Because he’s young, eligible, and I knew he lived somewhere around the city,” she told me. “So are you going to go?”

I shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. I don’t work tomorrow, so I may as well see what he’s offering.”

She pressed against me and clasped her hands together. “Can I go with you? Pretty please?”

“You work tomorrow,” I reminded her.

“Yeah, but if he really likes me, I may never have to work again,” she countered.

“How about you catch your own wealthy businessman and leave him to me? Besides, you’re scared of him, remember? Pale skin and creepy blue eyes?”

We jumped when something hard knocked against the window and reminded us of the end of the world outside. That scared the gold-digger out of Sheila, and she nervously glanced at the windows and nodded. “Yeah, on second thought, he’s all yours. I’ll wait for the next one.”