We drove deep into the city. Through neighborhoods that I was certain Katherine had never seen, yet I recalled Dennis talking about their early days 'on the streets' back east before her discovery, and I knew she would find them all too familiar. Emile grew up here, and somehow found himself part of Katherine's world. It did not surprise me that he knew these streets well.

As we were driving, I took the opportunity to grill Matt.

“So Tiny Tim. What's with the crutches?”

“Tiny Tim?” he scowled in mock offense. I just returned a glare. “That's rather offensive. ….and inappropriately familiar!”

My glare turned to a blush. “God, get your mind out of the gutter you perv!” I blustered.

His scowl turned to a wicked grin. Then it faded to a slight frown.

“I'm stupid.” he muttered.

That was not an adequate answer. I simply stared at him until he explained.

“Um. I was picking up money on the side, working with uh... some other guys from school. They advertise on Craigslist as 'Student Body Movers'. ...actually, online they shorten it to 'StudBody Movers'. Their gimmick was they were shirtless movers. I would pick up extra bucks when they needed an extra... um... body.”

I merely raised an eyebrow, but remained otherwise expressionless. Although secretly I was enjoying his shy discomfort.

“Uhhhh... the money was really, really good. And though I had the scholarship that just covered tuition and dorm. Any living expenses were on me..... We didn't ..um.. DO anything except what we said. Move. ….shirtless.”

I found his uneasiness charming. I knew the surest way to prolong his discomfort was to continue staring at him. Attentive yet expressionless. And unblinking. (Thank you Katherine!)

He squirmed a bit, gave me another glance, and reluctantly continued.

“So.... I was moving a chest of drawers down a narrow staircase with Eddie, one of the other guys... when he.... slipped.”

I scowled. He winced at the memory.

“I was on the low end and the thing went skidding down the stairs like a log down a chute. Pinning me under it and dragging me along.”

I remained expressionless because I was honestly at a loss for how to react. Shock, horror and outrage at this senseless accident fought for control of my emotions, but it was a stalemate, and I locked down my ...expressionless... expression.

Matt let out a heavy sigh. “It really could have been a whole lot worse. I ended up with four cracked ribs...but they could have been totally shattered. I'm actually bandaged up like a mummy” he forced a wry grin. “And I broke my ankle... and have a hairline fracture in my tibula” he frowned. “So long track scholarship.”

I frowned too. “That's so unfair.”

He shrugged. “So. I'm ….taking a hiatus.... until I can find another way to afford to go back to school. I have enough for a bus ticket back to Missoula. And you know what they say about home... it's the place where when you have to go there, they have to take you in.” he smiled sadly.

I wondered if my father had ever heard that saying, and seriously doubted it. Then I shook that thought off and turned back to Matt.

“So, I figured while I was still in town.... I'd look you up and ...say so long.” he shrugged.

I reached out and took his hand.

“I'm glad you did.” I smiled.

We rode in silence as Emile took us deeper east. Matt continued to hold my hand as we each stared out our windows lost in thought. I did notice the neighborhoods getting more ….stark. But I trusted Emile. He had questioned me if I was serious, and I said yes. I was sticking to that. So despite the growing ...barrenness... of the landscape, I retained my faith in Emile.

We pulled up outside a nondescript white concrete building on a corner. It looked like a restaurant ...actually more like a diner... maybe a cross between the two. On the two walls facing the intersecting streets it had hand painted in big red letters the word “Eat”. Emile deftly maneuvered the Town Car between a rusting Camry and a faded old VW Rabbit. A couple kids came running over, no doubt curious about the shiny black Lincoln. Emile waved them over, and leaning through the window asked them if they'd help him keep an eye on the car while he went inside. He peeled a few bills and pressed them into the kids hands, saying that it was a deposit and he'd pay in full when we got back to our well-guarded car. I wasn't sure how two 12 year olds could guard a car in what looked like a rough neighborhood, but I was sure Emile knew what he was doing. As the kids smiled and nodded, he said quietly “Any trouble. One stays with the car, the other goes in and gets me.” he said cocking his thumb at the diner as he opened his door and stepped out.

It was priceless to see the kids expression as this mountain of a man rose out of the small car door. They just craned their necks and stepped back... I'm not sure whether it was intimidation or they just needed to stand back to get a look at all of him without uncomfortably looking skyward.

He came around to my door and the look was repeated. Even though I was dressed down in the peasant top and brown slacks, I was still pretty towering, even in flats. I smiled wondering what they would have thought if they could have seen me the night before in my five inch stilettos.

It was the cutest thing to watch these two. It was as if a spaceship had landed on their street and these strange aliens had stepped out. I guess in a way we were.

Emile stooped down and chatted with them a bit to put them at ease. I couldn't really hear what he said, but he pointed down one street and their eyes went wide. They peppered him with questions and he mostly smiled and nodded. He put them at ease. Then he introduced us. He seemed a little uncomfortable, so I spared him the awkwardness of how to address me. “Hi, I'm Katherine. And this is Matt.” Matt waved clumsily trying to get back on his crutches.

“You're a lady?” the boy said.

The girl elbowed him hard, hissing “Stevie!”

“On occasion, I've been called a lady” I tried for humour to hide my surprise. “Not looking too ladylike dressed like this” I forced a laugh and held out a corner of my peasant top, twisting my torso.

“I've just never seen a girl so TALL!” he blustered. The girl elbowed him again.

“Eva! Quit it!” he glared at her. She just rolled her eyes and glared back.

“Have you ever seen a BOY that tall either? God, that was so RUDE!”

She turned to me and said “I'm SO sorry about my little brother.... he's just....” she was floundering.

“...a little brother.” I smiled. She let out a big relaxed breath and nodded, smiling.

“No problem.” I dismissed it with a smile. Matt had manouvered himself to the curb and Emile turned to the kids.

“We won't be long. You need anything, we're right inside. OK?” Emile addressed them.

They nodded. Emile nodded back then turned to us and cocked his neck in the direction of the diner. We made our way up the small concrete steps to the door, Emile leading the way.

It was one of those doors with a bell on it, so anyone in back could hear we arrived. The place was empty. It was neat and modest, but deserted. Emile looked around, taking it all in. I could tell by his gaze that he had not been here in a long time. We waited awkwardly for a while. Emile reopened and shook the door, the clattering bell echoing off the walls of the empty place.

Emile walked inside, past the register by the door.

“Ay!” he bellowed. “Est ce que tout dormir???”

“Yeah yeah yeah...” a voice grumbled from the back. A grizzled old guy in white workshirt and pants wiping his hands on a towel pushed open the kitchen door muttering “..keep your damn...” and stopped cold when he saw us.

He just stood there, squinting. I could see out of the corner of my eye the broad smile growing on Emile's face.

“Milo?” The guy finally muttered. I felt Emile nodding beside me. Then they both began walking toward each other with increasing speed as Emile swept the old guy up in a bear hug. “Too long old man. Too long!”

After a while, the two guys broke the clench, and seemed a bit embarrassed about the PDA. The old guy looked him up and down.

“Sharp suit. You're doing good.”

Emile nodded, trying to hide his obvious pride at the old guy's approval.

“And who are your friends?” he asked jutting his chin in our direction.

“Oh! Jasper St Hillaire, this is Katherine Keller my...”

I picked up on his awkward hesitation instantly and butted in before the old guy caught it.

“We work together.”

Emile almost blew it by turning to me with a perplexed look. I just steamrolled on hoping he'd figure it out before the old guy.

“...at this media company 'Haute Shot'”

“Haute Shot, huh?” he grinned. “Sounds fancy. What do they do?” He addressed Emile, but Emile turned to me, obviously uncertain how to answer.

“Oh, entertainment and fashion. Working with designers, fashion industry publications, media outlets. Basically if a designer has a creation to show off. Haute Shot acts as a liaison between the industry and media outlets... magazines, tv, film placement, outdoor advertising. We also connect designers and manufacturers with talent... photographers, media buyers, models.” I did not mention that Haute Shot's only real product was Katherine Keller.

The old man's eyebrow rose. “Models huh?” He grinned at Emile.

I shrugged. “All part of the package. Emile is corporate transportation and security chief. He makes sure the talent gets where they're needed and keeps them safe.” I smiled. Emile shot me a look. I think I just gave him a really big promotion. I just pulled the title out of thin air, but I thought it would impress the old guy. It seemed to have worked. He smiled at Emile.

“I'm sure he does. ...I mean Emile does.” he grinned.

Emile cleared his throat. “It is my name.” He muttered to the old guy, who just shrugged, still grinning.

“I know your name boy!” he smiled, enjoying Emile's discomfort. “...just seems so... formal.” Then he peered out the window to the kids sitting on the town car with a group of gawkers gathering around. And he did another conspicuous toe to top scan of Emile, looking dapper and imposing in his tailored suit. “Yeah. Emile suits the chief of corporate security.”

“And transportation..” I added in with a raised finger. Emile was getting embarrassed and I was enjoying this too much.

The old guy turned to Matt. “And you are?”

“Matt Cutler sir.” Matt reached out to shake hands and nearly toppled off his crutches. Emile shot to his side and steadied him.

“THOSE are the reflexes we pay him for!” I laughed. I think Emile was about to blush.

“And what do you do son?” the old guy asked Matt.

Matt stammered a bit. He was not prepared for the question.

“Well, until recently I was pre-med at UCLA on a full track scholarship.... but now...” he hung his head and stared at the cast on his leg.

“It's an intervention. Emi.... Milo and I...” I glanced to see if he was OK with me using that name, he seemed surprised but not terribly bothered. “We're trying to convince our friend here to stay in school and not give up on his dream.”

The old man nodded. “School's important.” He turned to Emile “Right?”

Emile fidgeted a bit and nodded.

“Right?” the old guy asked again more forcefully.

“Right.” Emile answered.

“You listen to him boy” he said to Matt cocking his thumb at Emile. “He knows a thing or two about not giving up.”

Matt nodded. The old guy, Jasper nodded too, with a 'that's settled' look. Then he turned back to Emile.

“So what on earth brings you back here after so many years boy?”

Emile scrunched up his face and looked at me. At that instant he looked like the 12 year old he once was, and not like the towering man he grew to be. I interrupted yet again.

“I asked Emi... Milo... if he had one last meal in L.A. and he was never going to be back, where would he go. And he took us here.” I smiled.

“Last meal?” Jasper looked a little confused. He turned to Matt “Looks like you just got a lame leg, and you're not a racehorse, so it can't be that serious.” He turned to me. “And you're thin as a stick, but you don't look sick.” Then he started to turn to Emile, his face clouding with concern.

I blurted out “It was my way of getting the truth out of him. If I asked for 'the best restaurant' or something, I knew he would go someplace he thought I would like. I wanted to find the place HE most wanted to go... so... 'Last Meal'...” then I held up a finger “IN L.A.....”

The old guy nodded and smiled. He walked over to the register and grabbed some menus.

“Well then, I guess the pressure's on ME.” he laughed. Then he turned to Emile with a look of pride and admiration, and I knew that he had been huge role model to young Milo.

We sat at a booth, Matt beside me and Emile opposite. Jasper set the menus out in front of us and looked apologetic.

“We're in a gray area. Lunch is done, and supper's not really started, but you folks let me know what you'd like and we'll see what we can do.”

I didn't even look at a menu. I just stared up at him and asked. “What's good?”

“Everything.” he shot back deadpan. I really liked this old guy.

I turned to Matt who was studying the menu, then to Emile, who was just eyeing me appraisingly.

“What do YOU recommend?” At this, Jasper folded his arms and looked at Emile sternly.

“Oh, NO!” Emile laughed, holding up his hands. “Anything I say, HE's going to say 'what's wrong with....' and name something else!” he cocked a thumb at Jasper, who smirked. Clearly that's EXACTLY what he was ready to do.

“OK.” Emile began again. “Ms Kell...” I kicked him under the table and when he glanced at me in surprise I mouthed 'KATHERINE!' ...”Katherine... is a vegan, so....”

It seemed to be my day for interrupting, so again I cut him off. “Wasn't always....” Emile, Jasper and Matt all looked at me. Matt knew I wasn't really Katherine, and I could tell by the look on his face that he thought I was going to blow my cover.

“Well, growing up on the streets, it wasn't always easy to find vegan dumpsters” I shrugged deadpan.

Jasper's eyes went wide. “YOU grew up on the streets?”

“Long story, but ….yeah. Until I got 'discovered' by a photographer. That's one way to get a model physique.” I shrugged. “Now I just keep a strict diet and work out hard.”

Emile nodded “She really does.”

“But special occasions call for bending some rules. Keeping with the whole 'last meal' thing, I think this qualifies as a special occasion. But please, don't go overboard and try to stuff me with chicken fried bacon or anything.”

Emile and Jasper exchanged a look.

“You still do hot mash?” Emile asked.

Jasper nodded. “Of course. Just like you remember. ...No. BETTER. Tweaked the batter about 8 years back. Never had a complaint.”

“Hot mash?” I asked Emile. He broke into a wide grin and nodded vigorously.

“Deep fried Okra and Jalapenos”

“Habaneros now” Jasper cut in.

“in this chipotle lime batter that's.....” he was groping for a word.

“Indescribable?” I offered. They both grinned and nodded.

I turned to Matt who gave me an 'I'm game if you are' shrug.

“Please.” I smiled.

Jasper grinned at Emile. “She's polite too? Never would have exp...”

Emile loudly cleared his throat. The old guy did a little bow and spun toward the kitchen.

“...and lots of cornbread too!” Emile yelled after him.

“..Please!” I added loudly holding my hand beside my mouth in an overt shouting gesture. Then I grinned at Emile “..at least someone is polite.”

The food was amazing. And eclectic. It seemed that everything was actually a mash. A mix of Mexican and other Latin dishes and ingredients jumbled up with Creole cooking and Kansas City Barbecue and even a version of Manhattan Seafood Chowder that Jasper called Bronx Chowder because it had a lot more ...attitude. I learned quickly that meant 'don't leave your spoon in too long or it will corrode'!

What it felt most like to me was Spanish Tapas, because I had just a taste of everything. I was quite aware that Dennis had dressed me for comfort after our night of power-clubbing, but the elastic waistband on these slacks were a rarity in Katherine's world, and unless I could squeeze in a triathlon or two before we left for Asia, I had better watch my calories. So it was just a tasting frenzy for me, although Matt and Emile had no problem finishing everything Jasper brought out.

While they were shoveling food into their mouths, Jasper regaled me with 'Milo stories', much to Emile's discomfort. Every time he would interrupt to tell his side of things, Jasper would hand him more food.

“Shut up and eat.” he grinned. “You have all the time you want to tell your version. Though it seems you never have. But I just have our time here to tell this lady the truth!” His smirk was devilish and full of love and respect for the now-adult man he watched grow up.

I learned how Milo and his little sister moved here from Detroit after his dad was killed in Lebanon. His mom came out to live with her sister in law, who offered her work at her nail salon. But that didn't work out for a lot of reasons, and Corinne and her two rug rats were on their own. She slung hash at various diners and such and fell in with Rosalie, another waitress with big dreams. They saved and bought a food truck. Rosalie had a lot of recipes and Corinne was a hard worker with a head for business. Corinne also liked it because her schedule was flexible enough that she could see her kids off to school and be home nights. Rosalie and Corinne hired their first employee, a former sous chef from Louisiana who came to California for reasons he never quite explained. Jasper.

He handled the rowdy night crowds hungry for something to balance the evening's alcohol before finally weaving their way home.

It was just the three of them for a few years, but Rosalie and Jasper were becoming more than coworkers. Apparently they got too successful, and after considering and rejecting a buyout offer they felt was insultingly low, they found their truck in the sights of the city health inspector, the DMV over their vehicle inspection and other sudden bureaucratic complications. After months of harassment and fines, they finally decided to kill the business rather than accepting the now even lower buyout bid. They chose instead to strip the truck, sell off the kitchen gear and sell the truck to a plumber. Even though Corinne and Rosalie were sole partners, they split their cash out with Jasper, because even though he had no money invested, he was key to their success.

Corinne took a 'straight job' with a temp agency and Rosalie and Jasper pooled their resources and bought the place we were sitting in. The two became like an aunt and uncle to Corinne's kids. Although Jasper sounded more like a surrogate dad.

Both kids had 'after school jobs' at the restaurant, although Emile butted in that they weren't really 'job jobs' - it was just a way for the grownups to keep the youngsters closely watched. Jasper laughingly conceded as much, but challenged Emile.

“It worked dinnit?”

Emile laughed and agreed. The neighborhood was kind of rough. There were a lot of distractions and temptations for young people with too much energy and ambition and too few opportunities.

“They hated this place” Jasper laughed. “But it kept 'em off the pipe, and off the streets.” then his face fell and he shot Emile a guilty look. He quickly moved on. “This guy ever tell you he was going to be a football star?” he grinned.

“So how did you end up slumming with supermodels?” I teased.

“Shattered hip.” he scowled. “Drunk driver while I was coming home from a varsity game. So long NFL.”

Matt nodded sullenly. I imagined his leg cast didn't seem so bad anymore.

“So I chilled out, healed up and got work doing security. It was good. Not too much physical activity, I just had to stand around and glare at anyone I thought might start trouble.” Emile laughed. “Good thing it always worked, because I moved like an old man.” Then he gulped and shot Jasper a nervous look.

The old guy just laughed. “You wished you could move like an old man! You moved like one a them zombie movies!”

Emile nodded. “Yeah. Took a long time to bounce back. But I did. And then I enlisted.”

“Enlisted?” I asked.

“Marines.” Jasper said. “Just like the old man. His mom was NOT pleased.”

Emile shrugged. “Wasn't a marine for long.”

Jasper laughed. “Yeah, you had to go and try to be a SEAL!”

“Would have been too....” Emile muttered.

“What happened?” Matt asked. I was relieved to see he was as wrapped up in this story as I was.

“Mom got sick.” Emile explained quietly. Jasper just shot him a look that said 'if you don't tell them, I will'.

“Glioblastoma. Uh, brain cancer. She was having headaches and dizzy spells but didn't tell anyone. Then one day she passed out at work and had a seizure. They rushed her to ER. Gwen - uh, my sister called me that night. They gave her only weeks. I got emergency leave and got home just in time. It wasn't weeks. It was days. ….it was...rough. I got a discharge, because my sister was still a minor and I was her only surviving family. It did not go well.”

“Well you threatened her friends.” Jasper smiled.

Emile barked. “Friends! Losers, gangbangers, thug wannabes, crackheads....” He shifted in his seat stiffening his back. “Damned right I threatened them.” then he sank down, deflated “...for all the good it did.”

Jasper patted him on the back. “You kept her off the streets and you kept her off the pipe. That was more than I thought anyone could do.”

“But I couldn't keep her safe.” he whispered, almost to himself.

“What happened?” I blurted. Emile just hung his head.

“I don't want to talk about it.”

“If you don't I will. Needs to be said.” Jasper said sternly.

“No! What's past is passed. Old wounds.” he glared at the old guy with some heat.

“Still festering.” Jasper glared back. “Air them out” he nearly ordered Emile, who still stared down at the table.

“That's why I never came back.” he kind of growled.

“Fine. That's the way you want it.” Jasper said firmly. “I'll do it.”

Emile shot him a look that would make anyone back off, but the old guy glared back just as hard and took a deep breath. As his chest filled, I noticed Emile's deflate.

“Gwen was a sweet girl. Bright, bubbly even. But she was always seeking approval from everyone around her, seemed she would do anything to fit in. Mostly these were foolish, harmless things. But then she started hanging out with the wrong crowd.”

“Losers.” Emile muttered. Jasper nodded.

“Pretty much” he sighed. “Her mom didn't know what to do with her. They fought like cats and dogs. She even got Rosa and me to try and talk with her.” he shook his head. “Of course, the only ones she was gonna listen to at her age were her friends.”

Emile snorted.

“When Corinne got sick, Gwen stepped up. She stayed home and took care of her moms until Milo got home.”

“Even then.” Emile muttered.

Jasper nodded. “But that was only a few days. Then she passed and Gwen took it hard.”

“We both did.” Emile said quietly.

“I know.” Jasper patted him on the shoulder again. “So the fights she always had with her mom, she now had with her big brother.”

“Yeah. But her friends were never scared of moms. I was ….more effective.”

“So she started sneaking around. Then she hooked up with this gang banger..”

“Wannabee” Emile spat.

Jasper nodded. “Yeah. I don't think even the gang bangers took him seriously. Still he was bad news. He used to hit Gwen but he was smart enough to never do it where Milo would see. We only saw the bruises after... I'm getting ahead of myself. Well, he treated her bad and the worse he got, the more she went back. He even got cocky enough to tell Milo off, although he had 20 guys with him at the time. Milo still chased him while the other guys laughed. But he got away. A few days later he was doing something stupid on the wrong block in a stolen ride when some guys pulled up beside them and unloaded on the SUV. He was just bloodied, but Gwen took it right through the windshield. The coward dumped her outside the ER and took off. She hung on for a few days until Milo gave them permission to pull the plug. He kind of snapped. Went to the gang bangers and told them that this boy was HIS and they were to stay out of it. The kid was never really one of them anyway, and they weren't crazy about the coward way he dumped the girl. They offered to help. He said he wanted to do it himself.”

“I said 'With my own hands'.” Emile muttered. I could see the pain and rage on his face. He was still not over this.

“I really thought he was going to piss away everything and end up in prison for murder one” Jasper said. “Lucky for everyone, the other gang got to him first. Milo stayed out of trouble.”

“Almost” he laughed bitterly.

Jasper grinned. “Yeah. There was that contempt of court when you thanked the defendants.” he turned to us smiling. “But the judge was disgusted by what came out in that trial too, so she let him off with a scolding. After that, he packed up and left.”

“I had no ties here anymore. Just bad memories.”

Jasper cleared his throat. Emile frowned.

“OK. FEW ties. I needed a change. So I knocked around. Ended up in Vegas. Worked security.... shuttling visiting celebs... well you know the rest.” He cracked a bashful smile.

I didn't know the rest, but obviously that was when he crossed paths with Katherine.

Jasper made small talk with Matt and myself. It was only when he told Jasper that I realized that Matt had lost his scholarship and was heading home not for a while but for good. That's when I started mentally scrambling for a way to keep him from giving up on his dreams.

A few customers drifted into the restaurant and Jasper excused himself to attend to them.

“So when exactly were you going to tell me you were dropping out of school?” I asked with some heat.

Matt fidgeted and muttered “I did sort of mention it.”

I scowled at him. He was not getting off that easily.

“Well, I explained about the injury and losing the scholarship and mentioned that I bought a bus ticket home.”

I continued to stare, giving him the unblinking 'Katherine eye'. This really was every bit as effective as Wonder Woman's Lasso of Truth ...if much slower.

“...I just never mentioned that I wasn't coming back.”

I really wanted to lash out at him for his epicly bad choice, but I fought the urge and remained still and staring.

“...I mean... it's not like I want to give up on my dream.... it's just that.... I can't do it without the scholarship... and I....” he lowered his eyes and spoke quietly at the table top “...I have nowhere else to go....”

Emile shot me a look of great discomfort. I realized this was the wrong place to be having a heart to heart with Matt.

“We'll talk in the car.” I said sternly to Matt. He glanced up at me and nodded. I think he was expecting me to tear into him and was relieved that it would be in the privacy of the car.

Jasper noticed that our little soap opera moment was over and quietly returned, trying to tempt us with desert. I agreed – after Emile's insistence, on a house special coffee but no desert.

When Jasper gleefully went off to prepare it, Emile warned me what I was in for. Jasper came up with it years ago and jokingly called it 'Cafe Ole'. It was a little New Orleans, a little Cuban, a touch Thai and very, very Jasper. It was strong and thick and sweet. Hotter than the sun with a bite of cinnamon and smooth as suede with a dollop of honey and rich brown sugar. This thimble full of coffee was richer than any desert I ever had. Thank God it was served in a tiny espresso cup. A diner sized mug could probably kill someone. I insisted that the three of us indulge. Emile was eager, Matt wasn't thrilled at the concept but seemed resigned to his fate. By the second sip, he was sold. I got the feeling that the caffeine and sugar buzz quickly dispelled any self pity he was having over his school situation.

As we were preparing to leave, I asked Jasper for the check. He shook his head and said “Gratis”.

I shook my head back. “Absolutely not. This is a business lunch and on the company.” I stared him down. He was a stubborn old guy. I pulled the Haute Shot Amex card out of my purse and handed it to him. “We need every expense we can deduct. Do you know how much this company pays in taxes?”

He laughed. “OK. Now I want to take your money... but I still can't.” He shrugged at Emile.

“You STILL don't take plastic?” Emile was shaking his head with a mixture of disbelief and bemusement. The old guy just shot him a grin and a look that said 'what are you gonna do?'.

I grabbed the check and looked at Jasper. “OK. What if I send ...Milo...” I suppressed my smile at noticing out of the corner of my eye, Emile's discomfort at my use of his childhood name. “...back with cash? I don't want to spend all day washing dishes to pay off our meal. ….and if you don't trust us, we can leave collateral.” I grabbed and rattled Matt's crutches.

“Hey! I can't get around without those!” He cried out.

I shrugged, looking back to Jasper and crooking a thumb toward Matt. “....fine....” I said with a melodramatic sigh “...we'll leave him behind too.... as a hostage.” I barely managed to keep my poker face and I could see Jasper was having trouble too.

“Oh no you don't. You're not pawning him off on me.” he warned mightily fighting off a grin. “A school dropout with a game leg? Not a chance. You take him back where you found him. And if Milo doesn't come back with the cash, I'll come looking for HIM.”

We headed back out to the town car, where a small crowd had gathered. Emile, back in full security-guy mode, parted them like Moses. Matt and I followed in his wake. I went to help Matt, but he quickly and skillfully swung himself into the car as if he'd been doing this for years. He was a quick learner.

As I made my way around to my side and Emile holding my open door, I was barraged with questions. 'Who are you, lady?' 'What are you doing here?' that sort of thing, I smiled and replied 'having lunch' and cocked my thumb back at the diner towards Jasper looking out the window with amusement. The questions didn't stop, and they weren't all for me. A few recognized Emile and seemed contemptuous, making snide comments about him being too good for the neighborhood now and then the 'driving miss Daisy' comments started and began to snowball. I had to shut this down fast.

“He's not a driver. He's corporate security.” I got blank stares. “...bodyguard” I shrugged. THAT they got. I quickly added “please don't make him have to show anyone.” and flashed an awkward smile as the crowd backed off for just a moment, which we used to get in the car and began to pull out.

I couldn't resist. I rolled down the window. “Any further questions will be handled by my local public relations team...” and I shot a big smile to the two kids, who puffed up a bit and beamed back.

Emile was still chuckling as we pulled back onto the freeway.

“I suppose now I'm going to have to put them on the payroll” I mock sighed.

“Well, at least send them a company Christmas Card” he grinned into the rear view mirror.

Once we were on the freeway, I turned my attention back to Matt.

“Where can we drop you?” I asked.

He shrugged. “My dorm if it's not too much trouble.”

Emile nodded and changed lanes to head to UCLA.

“You're still living on campus?” I was surprised, thinking he was through with school.

“Till day after tomorrow. Then I catch the bus home with my tail between my legs.”

“Don't put it that way. You didn't fail.... you just caught a really bad break.” As soon as they left my mouth, I winced at my poor choice of words.

Matt snorted at the harsh pun. “All I know is that all those people who thought I was acting all superior going off and making something of myself... the ones who kept saying that I was nothing special and soon enough I'd be back, asking them for work at the stockyard or the plant... well... I'm about to prove them right.” The words were bitter in his mouth.

My mind was racing, but I wasn't sure where yet. Still, I asked. “How much stuff do you have to take home?”

Matt shrugged. “A couple duffels. My camera bag. A backpack with my laptop, ipad and stuff. I already sold my books back to the bookstore and got screwed.”

I nodded. Still thinking. “Do you have a passport?”

“...A pass.... uh.... NO....” he reacted as if I'd asked him if he owned an Emu. “Why would I have a passport?”

I wagged my head back and forth. “I don't know. Maybe a weekend in Tijuana with some pals from school.... or a trip north of the border when you lived back home?”

“Why would I want to go to Alberta or Saskatchewan? It's exactly just the same... only even colder!”

I dismissed it with a wave and a “Meh. Just asking.” As my mind recalculated.

Within a few seconds I had a revised plan. I turned to look Matt squarely in the eye.
“Is your bus ticket refundable?”