Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 43536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
“Spelt?”
“Yeah, it’s a type of flour used for bread. I saw it on TV. It sounded healthy and boring.”
“I’m not trying to get you to sign up for anything, don’t worry. I just think in my line of work it’s better to be safe than sorry. I wanted to check with you and see what motivated you to come to the class tonight.”
“It’s a situation over at work. It’s been difficult before, but it got a little intense today. I thought, like you said, better safe than sorry.”
“Is there anyone you can talk to at work? Get you out of the situation?”
“Not really. I spoke with my supervisor. She’s great, but we’re understaffed to begin with, and now one of the other workers is out on maternity leave, so we’re spread pretty thin. I can’t just pile my case on a coworker.”
“Are you a doctor? A PA?”
“Social worker. I love my job, don’t get me wrong. I just—”
“I imagine you deal with all kinds of people. Some better than others.”
“Yeah, just like in any job, except it’s high stress to begin with, because I work for the agency that took away their kids. So, it’s hard not to be seen as the enemy.”
“So, is this a parent?”
“I can’t really discuss it. Privacy laws,” she said, taking a sip of water.
“Okay, so I’ll ask the right questions, and you can just say yes or no. Did someone threaten you with physical harm?”
“Yes.”
“Shit. Okay. That’s a pretty clear danger. Are we talking direct threat? The person said he or she would do something physical to you?”
“Yes. Beat my ass,” she supplied, eating a fry. She was trying to say it wryly, like it was a funny story, but her hand trembled a little.
I wanted to hold her.
But that would be very unprofessional. Nothing I would ever consider doing. Why had I even thought of it? The way she looked at me so determined to be calm, to seem okay. I wanted to tell her she didn’t have to act so strong, that it was okay to be scared and ask for help. I wanted to tell her that her supervisor should do something to keep her safe. Like possibly shoot the guy in both of his goddamn legs.
I reached across the table where her hand rested beside her plate. I almost took her hand. At the last second, I swerved and stole another fry. It was a close call. I had wanted to assure her that she could trust me, that I would keep her safe as if I knew her, as if she were mine to safeguard.
I steered the conversation into shallower waters, told her about my self-defense training, how heavy the full simulation gear is and how many nut punches I took before I admitted I needed to wear the gear. She laughed, completely at ease. It was amazing how well we got along, how easy it was to talk with her, to make each other laugh.
When I looked at my phone, I was surprised to see that we’d been there two hours. I told her what time it was. Lexi was shocked, too.
“You’re kidding. It’s like we just got here. I’ve been on dates where half an hour seemed way longer than this. Not that this was a date,” she said, flushing pink, seeming a little flustered.
“No. I know exactly what you mean. This was fun. Could I walk you home? Make sure you get there safely?”
“I drove, thanks. If you want to be extra protective though you can walk me to my car,” she said.
We both stood up and I followed her out and down the block. She unlocked a little Toyota and got inside. She started it up and rolled down the window.
“Thanks for tonight. I feel a little better.”
“That’s good to hear, Lexi,” I said, saying her name just because I wanted to.
“Hey, I’ll see you Friday at class, okay?”
“I’ll see you then,” I said. I wanted to say something else, tell her to be careful or to lock her doors, but it seemed intrusive since we barely knew each other.
I walked home and found my best friend Leo already there.
“What, no fires tonight?” I said, popping a beer.
“No. I got off early. You, on the other hand, are out late. Did one of your self-defense girls need a little one-on-one tutoring in the locker room?” he joked.
“No, the opposite, you horn dog.”
“The opposite as in one of the self-defense guys needed one-on-one?”
I rolled my eyes at him, “No. There was a new girl in class. She stayed in the back and acted nervous. I wanted to make sure she was okay.”
“By nervous do you mean hot?”
“I mean nervous, like she was going to jump out of her skin if anyone even spoke to her.”
“Trauma victim?”
“Got threatened at work,” I said, sitting down beside him on the sectional.