Chapter Two
Jo
I ’ve never felt such nerves walking into my favorite coffee shop, but after I ran away from Second Chance Sanctuary last week, I received a very gruff voicemail from Mr.
Dane asking if I could meet with him.
He insisted it be somewhere public and not at the sanctuary, somewhere I was comfortable.
Unfortunately, the only place I am semi-comfortable is on my college campus.
It’s the only place where there aren’t eyes on me.
He’s impossible to miss sitting in the corner, even though his back is to me, looking out the big open window overlooking the square.
It’s the main cross-traffic area for students going to their classes, and the crowd favorite lunch spot on nice days like today.
He doesn’t have a drink in front of him, but I order one of my own anyway before uneasily making my way over to him.
I practiced a hundred different things to say when I showed up today, but none of them make their way from my throat as I sit down across from him.
His attention turns to me slowly, like he already knew I was here, but he doesn’t say anything as he studies me.
We sit in silence across from each other until it gets uncomfortable, which isn’t very long at all.
“Jo!” One of the regular baristas walks over with my iced Churro Espresso Latte with extra caramel drizzle.
“Thank you, Hannah.” I smile warmly at her when she glances at Lochlan nervously.
We aren’t personal acquaintances, but after ordering my drink from her a couple of times a week, I looked forward to seeing a friendly face at school.
I can sense her worry about the company I’m meeting with.
Lochlan doesn’t look like he belongs on a college campus.
This is a diverse school with a multitude of ethnicities, social classes, and ages.
It isn’t his mature appearance that I would guess is somewhere around mid-thirties; it’s the black cloud he walks around under.
His hands are stuffed into the pockets of his plain black hoodie as he returns to assess the world outside instead of looking at me or Hannah.
“I’ll be right over there if you need anything else, Jo.” She smiles sincerely, returning to the coffee counter.
“You didn’t order anything?” I break the silence, speaking to him for the first time.
“No.”
“Okay. So…”
I didn’t initiate this meeting.
The trajectory of this conversation should be led by him.
That’s the unspoken societal norm.
“You go to school here?”
“I’m studying to get my Master’s Degree.”
“In what?”
“Engineering. ”
His eyes widen ever so slightly.
“Impressive.”
“Thank you.”
I tend to pick up on the tiniest of changes in facial expressions that others might not notice because certain cues help me prepare for where the conversation might go, but he’s incredibly difficult to read as the silence continues.
“Why did you want to work at Second Chance Sanctuary?” He finally asks.
“I have experience in Public Relations.”
“A Bachelor’s Degree, I know. I read your resume after you left. You didn’t mention that you were still in school or any work history. It’s all volunteer work.”
“I’ve had trouble with employment based on who I am.”
“The Governor’s daughter?”
“Former Governor.”
“Wouldn’t everyone like to hire the Princess of North Carolina?”
That dreaded nickname.
My father has been known as the Governor of North Carolina for most of my life.
He has held office in this state in some capacity longer than any other official.
He started as a mayor in the capital of the state, then did two non-consecutive terms as Lieutenant Governor before doing two non-consecutive terms as Governor.
If he didn’t hold the office, then he was either running his campaign or maintaining a good reputation for the House or the Senate.
He is and will forever be known as the Governor, as if he holds celebrity status.
Our family is treated as royalty in the worst way.
Gossip, scandal, and unlimited notoriety.
I have been primed and polished from infancy to showcase our family name in an ungodly light.
After I won Miss North Carolina Teen when I was 16, my “Princess of North Carolina” title stuck.
“You didn’t want to hire me,” I state blandly.
The initial fire I had to get the job has completely dissipated.
“Because you’re a woman.”
“You don’t think women are capable enough to work with you?”
His brows furrow deeper than they had been previously, since there seems to be a permanent scowl on his face.
“No, that’s not why.”
“Then, why?” I cross my arms over my chest.
I have the sudden urge to stomp out of here, but decorum tells me otherwise.
I know my butt will be planted in this seat until it’s socially acceptable to leave.
“What do you know about SCS?”
“It’s a rehabilitation sanctuary for black bears and felons.”
“So, you see my reasoning.” He stares at me pointedly, expecting me to understand him without having to actually explain.
“I’m not afraid of black bears.”
He huffs, leaning back in his seat and rubbing his hand across his forehead.
“The bears aren’t the problem. They rarely are.”
“All of my research told me that you only hire non-violent felons. You don’t trust them around a woman?”
“I hire men who have been convicted of non-violent crimes. Men who have a plan to better their lives. I don’t know every detail of their past. I don’t know what type of temperament they’re capable of when a pretty piece of meat is dangled in front of their face. There is no guarantee that they can’t be violent.”
“Did you just call me a piece of meat?” I think now would be an appropriate time to leave.
“I know bears. I’ve worked with black bears my entire life. I can guess what they’ll do when subjected to external forces. I cannot guess it as accurately with the men that come through my gates. They don’t behave like bears. It’s safer for you to steer clear.”
“Then why am I here?”
“Because of your father.”
“My father?”
“I owe him a debt from a long time ago. This might be my only chance to fulfill it.”
“So I can have the job?”
“There are rules.”
“Like?”
“You can only be on the property during set times. Only in the big house. You can’t wander around by yourself or go into the barns. No socializing with the workers. And, you always have to be within arm’s reach of your phone when you’re working. If you aren’t reachable, I’ll assume there is trouble.”
I’m analyzing each point as quickly as he’s speaking, but my brain is already telling me what it wants.
“Okay, I’ll do it.”
He holds his hands up to stop me.
“I’m not done. I can’t promise it will work out. I’m not making you sign a contract, but you need to understand that if the rules aren’t being followed or I feel like there is any risk to your safety, I’ll pull the plug and you’re out.”
“You act like I’ll be walking into war.”
“Someone wants to shut us down. Every other week, we’re getting threatening letters, fences damaged, or harassed in some way, and it’s escalating. I need to get cameras and security up and running across the entire property. It could cost half a million dollars that I don’t have, and I don’t know how to get it. The funding we get from the state covers basic needs for operation, and that’s it.”
He sits silently as I ponder that.
I knew the position was for a part-time Assistant/PR, but I didn’t know why it was needed.
It seems like Lochlan is in over his head.
“So, the sanctuary is dangerous?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll still do it.”
He clenches his hands together on the table as if he is disappointed with my answer.
As if he was hoping he’d scare me away.
“Do you know who I am, Jo?”
It’s the first time he’s spoken my name since meeting me.
“Yes, I know who you are.”
“About my past?”
I nod.
“And, you still want the job?” He asks the heavily loaded question and watches me closely for my answer.
“Yes.”