I had stopped working temp jobs and settled into a secretarial position at a California steel building company. Construction workers and project managers and designers and contractors. It was a big firm with enough employees to keep the workplace from becoming too cozy. We were all friendly, and there were the occasional Friday night, just won a big bid celebratory drink bashes, but on the whole we did our jobs and went our separate ways when the workday ended. With the exception of baby showers and divorce announcements, I couldn't have told you much about the personal lives of any of my co-workers.Until Chlo" started.She was a project engineer. A project manager brought in to help oversee a massive office/hotel/convention center job we'd just successfully bid. She looked like a construction project manager. She had graduated from actual construction work, but from the wonderfully defined lines of her shoulders and the delicately sculpted muscles of her biceps it was obvious she'd. I could see whoever came in the door before their eyes could adjust enough to see me clearly. Not that I was too worried, I had a snub nosed .357 magnum revolver under my coat, and a couple of knives and a straight razor cached in various places on my person. My dad told me long ago, ‘Son, it’s better to have it and not need it, than to need it and not have it.’ Good advice for anyone. I was packing a considerable amount of cash, most of it in a money belt under my shirt. A little over 30 grand that represented everything I could save and scrimp together from the last 20 years. What I wore and the contents of my truck were all I had in the world. I had never felt freer in my life. The one waitress came by occasionally to refill my beer, and once, to bring me a burger and fries. I leaned back against the wall and listened to the house band cover classic rock bands. They were actually pretty good. When they took a break, I sent them a couple of pitchers of beer via the waitress. I.
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