in a relationship?” Johnson asked.
“No,” Lucky replied, trying not to flick his gaze to Bo.
Bo took a turn at questioning next. “What’s your favorite food?”
“Broccoli,” Lucky lied. Green stuff. Brrr.
When at last came time for him to step down, he carefully controlled his footsteps back to his seat. Torture. A tongue-lashing from Walter. Ten minutes
trapped in a car with Keith. He’d take any of those horrors over the ordeal he’d just endured. It’d been a long time since
his last interrogation. Except for his name, he’d lied to every question except the relationship thing, which he didn’t have an answer
to at this point. And his name boiled down to perspective.
The class chorused “Truth!” for each one.
Bo’s questioning gaze met Lucky’s during the relationship question. The corner of his mouth twitched.
Next came Bo’s turn. For a time, Lucky feared the woman wouldn’t ask again, leaving him to broach the relationship issue. In the end
she asked, and Lucky offered, “How do you like your steak?” to which Bo answered, “Extremely rare.”
Not a single class member detected a lie in Bo’s answers, though he’d never once told the truth. Lucky studied the man hard, feeling
let down when Bo offered a “No” about a relationship without fidgeting. Heaviness gathered in Lucky’s heart until he
witnessed the same reaction to the question about steak.
Lucky stopped Bo in the hallway after class. “How the hell did you pull that off in there?” He hiked a thumb toward the classroom door.
“You lied through your teeth.”
“Easy,” Bo replied, adding a sheepish grin. “Before we started I told myself that for the next ten minutes my name was Dennis
Michael Schollenberger, my cousin, and I did something similar with each of the other questions. It helped that the class asked the same things every time.
Gave me time to prepare.”
Lucky wasn’t going to ask about the relationship thing. He really wasn’t. Instead he tried, “What’s this about
liking your steaks rare?”
Bo snickered. “My exact words were ‘extremely rare’ as in ‘still on the cow’.”
They shared a moment of eye contact. As Lucky turned to leave, Bo called, “Simon?”
Lucky stopped in the middle of hallway.
“When asked about a relationship, I mentally added ‘with a woman’ to the end of the question.”
Bo winked and hurried down the corridor. Lucky remained in place, mouth hanging open. “Oh, he’s good, very good.”
***
O’Donoghue entered the room for the last class, his steps somewhat hesitant. Only six people remained besides the teacher and Walter,
who’d stopped by for a visit: Lucky, Bo, Johnson, a computer geek from SNB, Landry, earmarked for the DEA, and an Atlanta PD lieutenant who
reminded Lucky of a younger version of his landlady.
“And now the moment you’ve been waiting for,” O’Donoghue quipped, “for me to shut up, get the hell out of
here, and let you folks get back to work.
“I’m happy to say that you’ve all passed, and certificates have been forwarded to your regional bureaus for inclusion in your
personnel files. In a few days you’ll get an e-mail survey of the course, and I want you to be honest with your answers. While I’d love
nothing but glowing reports, flattery won’t help us improve the curriculum. Any final questions?”
A few students took the time to complement O’Donoghue or chitchat. Walter inclined his head to speak to Lucky. “I need to see you in my
office.”
While the others milled around munching a cake Walter had brought in, Lucky made his way to his boss’s office. Walter didn’t snag a
slice of confection to go. Oh shit. Walter passing up sweets? Not good.
“I’d hoped to put this off, but we simply can’t wait any longer,” he said the moment he’d closed his
office door.
Lucky took his usual chair in front of Walter’s desk. “What’s up?” Walter wasn’t one to rush anything.
“The
“No,” Lucky replied, trying not to flick his gaze to Bo.
Bo took a turn at questioning next. “What’s your favorite food?”
“Broccoli,” Lucky lied. Green stuff. Brrr.
When at last came time for him to step down, he carefully controlled his footsteps back to his seat. Torture. A tongue-lashing from Walter. Ten minutes
trapped in a car with Keith. He’d take any of those horrors over the ordeal he’d just endured. It’d been a long time since
his last interrogation. Except for his name, he’d lied to every question except the relationship thing, which he didn’t have an answer
to at this point. And his name boiled down to perspective.
The class chorused “Truth!” for each one.
Bo’s questioning gaze met Lucky’s during the relationship question. The corner of his mouth twitched.
Next came Bo’s turn. For a time, Lucky feared the woman wouldn’t ask again, leaving him to broach the relationship issue. In the end
she asked, and Lucky offered, “How do you like your steak?” to which Bo answered, “Extremely rare.”
Not a single class member detected a lie in Bo’s answers, though he’d never once told the truth. Lucky studied the man hard, feeling
let down when Bo offered a “No” about a relationship without fidgeting. Heaviness gathered in Lucky’s heart until he
witnessed the same reaction to the question about steak.
Lucky stopped Bo in the hallway after class. “How the hell did you pull that off in there?” He hiked a thumb toward the classroom door.
“You lied through your teeth.”
“Easy,” Bo replied, adding a sheepish grin. “Before we started I told myself that for the next ten minutes my name was Dennis
Michael Schollenberger, my cousin, and I did something similar with each of the other questions. It helped that the class asked the same things every time.
Gave me time to prepare.”
Lucky wasn’t going to ask about the relationship thing. He really wasn’t. Instead he tried, “What’s this about
liking your steaks rare?”
Bo snickered. “My exact words were ‘extremely rare’ as in ‘still on the cow’.”
They shared a moment of eye contact. As Lucky turned to leave, Bo called, “Simon?”
Lucky stopped in the middle of hallway.
“When asked about a relationship, I mentally added ‘with a woman’ to the end of the question.”
Bo winked and hurried down the corridor. Lucky remained in place, mouth hanging open. “Oh, he’s good, very good.”
***
O’Donoghue entered the room for the last class, his steps somewhat hesitant. Only six people remained besides the teacher and Walter,
who’d stopped by for a visit: Lucky, Bo, Johnson, a computer geek from SNB, Landry, earmarked for the DEA, and an Atlanta PD lieutenant who
reminded Lucky of a younger version of his landlady.
“And now the moment you’ve been waiting for,” O’Donoghue quipped, “for me to shut up, get the hell out of
here, and let you folks get back to work.
“I’m happy to say that you’ve all passed, and certificates have been forwarded to your regional bureaus for inclusion in your
personnel files. In a few days you’ll get an e-mail survey of the course, and I want you to be honest with your answers. While I’d love
nothing but glowing reports, flattery won’t help us improve the curriculum. Any final questions?”
A few students took the time to complement O’Donoghue or chitchat. Walter inclined his head to speak to Lucky. “I need to see you in my
office.”
While the others milled around munching a cake Walter had brought in, Lucky made his way to his boss’s office. Walter didn’t snag a
slice of confection to go. Oh shit. Walter passing up sweets? Not good.
“I’d hoped to put this off, but we simply can’t wait any longer,” he said the moment he’d closed his
office door.
Lucky took his usual chair in front of Walter’s desk. “What’s up?” Walter wasn’t one to rush anything.
“The
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