Read Online T. Lynn Ocean - Jersey Barnes 03 - Southern Peril by T. Lynn Ocean - Free Book Online Page B

probably always too busy berating the kid, just like Garland used to ride Morgan’s ass when he was a teenager. Some people are effervescent, others aren’t. But an outgoing or shy personality had absolutely nothing to do with ambition, he knew. Morgan would have bet money that the kid had ambition, and plenty of it. He could tell by Brent’s work ethic, even if it was only a part-time job bussing tables. The boy was never late, did his job well, and never complained.
    Compelled to intervene, Morgan pulled on his suit jacket and left the tiny office. The door’s lock was designed to engage automatically any time the door was closed, and he was careful to check his pocket for the key before pulling it tight. He found Brent unloading one of the commercial dishwashers. The boy was tall and stringy, with reddish hair and long bangs that almost concealed an acne-riddled forehead. Once his skin cleared up and his body had a chance to fill out, Morgan thought, Brent would be a fine-looking man. He motioned the employee over, and they walked outside through a rear delivery door. Startled by the appearance of her boss, a server stubbed out a cigarette, popped a mint in her mouth, and hustled back inside. A small piece of wood was wedged into the frame of the door to prevent it from shutting fully. The air was refreshingly cooler than that in the kitchen, and the night sky held an early moon. Much more pleasant than the confines of his office, Morgan thought. Although not nearly as interesting.
    “Yes, sir?” the kid said once they’d positioned themselves against the metal railing that lined the loading ramp.
    Morgan looked into the kid’s face. “What exactly is it that you want to do in life, Brent? Or, at least, what would you like to do for a career after college?”
    “Uh, I’m not really, uh, into the restaurant scene,” Brent said. “I’m working here to save money. With the tip share and all, it’s more than a lot of my friends make, you know what I mean?”
    Morgan knew he’d caught the kid off guard and Brent had over-thought the question. He tried again. “I’m not asking because Iwant you to move up the ranks at Argo’s. I’m curious. What do you have planned for the future?”
    Brent took a step back and squinted at his boss in the yellowish glow from the building’s security lighting. “Honestly?”
    “Honestly.”
    “I’m going to Alaska for eight months to intern for the Department of Fish and Game. They provide housing and everything.” The kid studied his shoes for a moment, shuffled his feet. “It’s a very cool deal. After that, I’ll go through a criminal justice program while I work in their wildlife conservation division. And then I’ll be set up to become a park ranger. I can stay in Alaska or apply to work at any state park in the country.”
    Morgan’s instinct had been correct. The woman sitting at the Green Table was a dolt. “That’s great. You’re going after what you want.”
    “I guess so. I’m already accepted into the program.”
    “But you haven’t told your parents?”
    Brent’s expression changed, and Morgan realized his mistake. “Just a guess. I know what it’s like to deal with a demanding parent,” Morgan explained. “I was afraid to tell my father anything when I was your age.”
    “Well, in my case, it’s my mom. She’s totally high-strung. I think I’m going to wait and tell them about Alaska, like maybe right after graduation. Or I guess I could tell my dad and let him tell her.”
    Morgan opened the loading door and food preparation noises drifted out: long-handled stainless spoons clanking against giant pots, oil sizzling, tableware being stacked, and the strange, barked sentences that constituted kitchen language.
    “Not a bad idea.” Morgan held the door for Brent and followed the employee back inside. “Maybe you should go somewhere with your father—just the two of you—and you can fill him in on yourgame plan.” He looked into the