I worked for the government.
They always said it that way. Never “the army.” Never “the command.” Never anything specific, serious, or important. Just “the government,” said with the same tone used for tax paperwork and lines at the DMV. Over time, it had become a family joke.
Harper works in computer science for the Army. Basically, he’s a computer scientist in camouflage. A soldier who’s an expert in spreadsheets.
It had all started out of laziness and escalated into something more petty, but I let them keep their version of events. Operational safety had something to do with it. As did the simple truth that people who underestimate you tend to be reckless.
Two minutes later, Vance Carter arrived, dressed with the kind of expensive elegance some men sport like a second tailored suit. Tall, tanned, with a flawless haircut and cufflinks that probably cost more than the rent on my first apartment. He kissed Chloe on the cheek, patted my dad on the shoulder, and picked up the phone as if he were on his way to a board meeting rather than a family vacation.
