“A bit of both, I imagine. I’ve been looking into some excellent engineering opportunities with the government. When he’s ready to start talking jobs, I’ll set him up.”
“That’s another thing that troubles me. He’s only interned as an engineer and went straight into the Army after college. He loved soldiering more than anything, and it’s really all he’s known.”
“A good soldier adapts, and Sam was a great one. Believe me, he’s going to excel in whatever he chooses. I’ll make sure he lands in the right place for him.”
“Thank you, Lee.”
“Is Yukiko still being supportive?”
Vivian felt her face turn into a stiff, emotionless mask, like it was entombed by wax or frozen by an overly aggressive Botox session, two beauty treatments she indulged herself on occasion. But this was free of charge—her facial muscles simply froze whenever unpleasant things came up. “They recently separated.”
“I’m very disappointed to hear that.”
“I was as well, but Sam tells me it’s temporary, and I’m certainly hoping for that. He needs stability in his life right now.”
Lee nodded commiseratively. “It takes a certain temperament to be a military spouse. There is tremendous sacrifice required in the very best of circumstances, not to mention the worst, and some people just aren’t up for the job.”
Vivian thought about her own rebellion against her mother, marrying a military man, which had galled her to no end. There had been plenty of sacrifices along the way; but Lee was right, some people just weren’t up for the job. But when you truly loved someone, you stood by them no matter what. “I just want Sam to be happy. I try not to judge Yukiko, but it’s difficult in my position.”
“Understandable. What can I do to help?”
“I’m sure he’d love to see you while you’re in town.” Vivian’s facial muscles re-engaged as a plan suddenly formed in her mind. “I was going to invite him to dinner this Sunday. Won’t you join us if you’re still in town?”
“I will be in town, and I’d be honored.”
“Wonderful!” She plucked a pink macaron from the tray. “It’s so good to see you, Lee, but I have to ask what brings you to Los Angeles. We’re a long way from D.C.”
He smiled and his tanned face crinkled into an intricate web of wrinkles. “I’ll tell you a little secret if you promise to keep it to yourself for now.”
Vivian clasped her hands together. There was nothing she loved more than secrets. They allayed the tedium of life after children were grown and husbands were dead. “You have my word. I won’t tell a soul.”
“Of course you know Captain Andrew Greer, Sam’s commanding officer.”
“Certainly. Sam has always thought the world of him.”
“I assure you, the feeling is mutual.”
“I’m glad to hear that, I thought it might be. He was very attentive after the accident whenever he was stateside. I understand he received a Bronze Star.”
“He did, and it was well deserved. He’s an excellent man and a natural leader.”
“Sam said as much, so I was quite surprised to learn he’d left the Army with such a promising future in service.”
“I was initially, too, until I heard his vision for service of another kind. Andy is quietly forming an exploratory committee and aims to run for Congress next election if the tea leaves read right. I think he’s the man for the job, so I’m lending a hand where I can, introducing him to some top people I know here on the West Coast. He flies in tonight.”
“That’s such exciting news!”
“I think so. Andy has also mentioned Sam on several occasions. We both think he would be an outstanding asset to the team in any capacity, whatever he might be ready for. If you have an extra place setting, I’m certain he’d cancel anything to join us on Sunday. I know he wants to tell Sam personally while he’s in town.”
Chapter Seven
SAM POPPED TWO SLICES OF BREAD in the toaster and started a pot of coffee. While he considered poaching some eggs, he heard soft, apologetic footsteps as Melody made her way into the kitchen, his mother’s crocheted throw draped over her shoulders. A drinker’s sleep had mussed her hair into tangled strands of blond, and her pretty face was marred by an ugly black eye.
She sagged wearily into a chair at the cheap dinette table he’d picked up at a garage sale two weeks ago. Yuki had taken the Stickley that used to sit on the braided rug to furnish the rental bungalow she now called home. For some reason, she hadn’t taken the rug.
“Thanks for letting me stay last night, Sam.”
“Anytime,” he said, setting a plate of buttered toast down in front of her. “You can stay whenever you want, just as long as you get rid of that Ryan asshole who likes to hit girls.”
She touched her black eye gingerly, then winced. “I don’t want you messed up in this—”
“Too late for that. It was too late when you rang my doorbell at midnight.” He passed her a bottle of water while the coffee maker grunted and burbled and did its work.
“He seemed like a good guy,” she said without bitterness, just defeat.
“He’s obviously not. You weren’t talking much last night, so tell me the whole story. Who is he?”
“He’s a promoter.”
“Typical LA line of bullshit. So what does he supposedly promote besides violence against women?”
She tried for a sour look, but there wasn’t enough energy behind it to give the expression any real impact. “Rock bands. Concerts.”
“Not that it matters, but does he make any money or is he a poser?”
“He has a new BMW and a nice place off Sunset. And a condo in Vegas.”
“You know that doesn’t mean anything, especially in this town. Who does he work for?”
“Jesus, you’re nosy. You sound like a cop.”
He waited patiently.
“He owns Salamander Productions.”
Sam had heard of it. They were a midrange outfit that repped regionally, mostly bread-and-butter acts that could fill Los Angeles and off-strip Vegas clubs but not premiere venues or stadiums. “Appropriate that he named his company after a reptile.”
Melody sighed anxiously. “We’ve been seeing each other on and off for a year. He never hit me before.”
Sam felt a stark anger unfurl inside—anger at the bastard who’d given her a black eye, anger at the people in her life who’d abused her to the point of reticence, anger that things like this happened every day all over the world. “But he’ll hit you again. Press charges and get out. You know how this shit ends once it starts, and it’s never good. Ditch his ass.”
Melody nodded, but it wasn’t a committed nod. “I will.”
“I’m not convinced.”
Her mouth twitched in irritation. “It’s complicated, Sam.”
“There’s nothing complicated about violence. That’s the one thing I know.”
She looked down and started picking at the label on her water bottle. Self-consciously? Or was she simply considering her options? Her situation might be straight-forward, but Melody herself was Byzantine. On one hand, there were a lot of hard edges to her. He didn’t know a lot of details about her past, but he knew some. Substantial drug problems—first Oxy, then heroin. She’d lived on the streets for a while. But she was intelligent and strong and optimistic, and she found a way to climb the steep mountain out.