Neanderthal Seeks Human(42)
A black Mercedes was illegally parked at the corner and Quinn stepped out of the back seat as I exited the building. He wasn’t wearing his guard uniform or a suit; instead his tall form was clothed in black boots, dark jeans, and a blue t-shirt; as normal, his hair was expertly tousled, his face was a mask of indifference, but his eyes were hidden behind a pair of aviator sun glasses. I took a moment to appreciate the sight of him. He looked really yummy. I may have sighed. I may have licked my lips.
I walked out to the car, feeling a little conspicuous in my capped sleeve red oxford shirt, grey pants, and red satin stilettos. I’d opted to wear my glasses instead of contacts; for some reason I always felt a little bit more invisible when I wore glasses, like I blended into the scenery behind the frames. My hair was once again in a tight bun. As I approached I saw my reflection in his sunglasses which only increased my unease. I thought he was going to lecture me for hanging up on him but instead he smiled as I approached.
“Hey.” He nodded once.
“Hi.” I gave him a half wave, gripping a portfolio notebook to my chest for taking notes; just in case. Neither Steven nor Carlos proactively briefed me on the scope or purpose of the training. I thought of Steven’s statement yesterday when I asked him if I should prepare or bring anything for the training, that we would tour a property but it should take only an hour.
Steven was half right. Quinn did show me one of the properties but we were not back within the hour.
The car took us a short distance to the League Center. The League Center is your typical arena concert venue and Guard Systems was acting as a security consultant for the managing security company.
There had been a number of breeches in physical security during the last six months. The most recent included an impressively enthusiastic fan that posed as a roadie and serenaded the early audience with a drunken/stoned rendition of Justin Beber, or Bieber or something, Girl, I Love You Hard song. Note, Justin Bieber may or may not have a song entitled Girl, I Love You Hard; however, the title- I feel- is reflective enough of Justin Bieber songs- as a sum total- to be utilized as a placeholder for whatever song this drunken crazy person was singing.
When we arrived we were given a comprehensive tour and the visit ended up being part business meeting between Quinn, the lead Guard Security liaison, and the onsite supervisor of the security management company; part training-slash-information session for my benefit; part review and tour of newly implemented measures.
Quinn was very quiet in the car on the drive to the League Center and very businessy, abrupt, and authoritative with everyone we encountered at the venue. He was not the Quinn I knew from club Outrageous, the morning after at his sister’s apartment and Giavani’s Pancake Diner, Smith’s deli or even Starbucks. If he didn’t look bored he looked unimpressed. People called him Mr. Sullivan or Sir. At one point I thought one of the ground staff was going to salute.
He was actually quite intimidating.
However, throughout the entire visit, business-like though he was, Quinn took special care and time to define concepts and acronyms I may not understand; describe identified weaknesses in the venue’s security; and provide context and background to purchases, personnel, and any topic which he felt related specifically to my management of the account.
By the time 5:30PM rolled around my brain felt full and my stomach was growling. We were just finishing an inspection of the site’s media-server facility; Jamal, the Guard Security liaison, led us down a narrow, low ceilinged hallway to the elevator and glanced at his cell phone.
“The gates will be opening for tonight’s concert in one hour so now is the time to eat if you’re hungry. The first act is onstage at 7:10.”
I looked imploringly from Jamal to Quinn; aside from being ravenously hungry and suffering from crippling stiletto related foot pain, I had plans with Steven and Jon at seven.
“Um, are we staying for the concert?”
Quinn nodded, his expression of impassive detachment firmly intact.
This was news to me. I chewed on my top lip during the silent ride on the elevator and debated what to do next. I was with Quinn and I didn’t particularly mind that I’d be stuck with him for several more hours, even if it would be Mr. Sullivan Quinn instead of shirtless, smiley, teasing Quinn.
The elevator reached our floor, the top floor, and Quinn placed his hand on the base of my spine to guide me from the lift. He’d been doing this all day and I was still getting the warm fuzzies each time. I was so preoccupied with Quinn’s hand I didn’t notice where we were until Jamal opened the door to a private box and motioned me inside.