Jameson (In the Company of Snipers #22) - Irish Winters Page 0,25
person in the chain of command counts, even logistics tails. How could we have done what needed being done, without someone behind the scenes paying our bills, buying ammo for us to shoot, stocking supplies, and making sure we had enough of those dry-as-shit MREs to choke down?”
She couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of her throat. Jameson was easy to talk with.
“But I didn’t serve,” she insisted. “Not like you. Not like I could have.” Not like I wanted to.
The elevator doors opened. His fingers on hers stopped moving. “My mom used to say nights would be mighty dark without every last one of us little stars. We shine wherever we end up, Maddie. Look at you, Protocol Officer for a bigshot like Alex Stewart. I’d say that’s a damned important job. I’ll bet he thinks so, too.”
“Well, of course, or he wouldn’t have created the job description or hired me,” she admitted. “He depends on me to organize his meetings with senators and White House staff, the press and the local police. I handle all his transportation needs, too. If he’s traveling out of state, I set up his schedule and make his reservations. I know what he likes to eat, which hotels he prefers, and which press reporter to not invite to press releases. I like what I do, and I’m good at it.” That should’ve made her feel better, yet it didn’t. No matter how good of a job she did, she could still hear her father’s disapproval.
“I’ll bet Alex is smart enough to appreciate what you do for him, too.”
“Umm, yes. He tells me all the time.” Only I’ve never believed him before now. You make it sound like I really do good work. As if I’m somebody, too.
“So which service would you have joined?”
“Marines.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I was ready to. Scored high enough on my ASVAB that I could’ve been a…” She wished she’d kept her big mouth shut.
“Been a what?”
They were paused at the vault. To distract Jameson, Maddie pressed her palm to the pad, then keyed in the double-authentication passcode until the vault hissed open.
“Never mind. Something came up,” she said lamely, remembering the day her father had put his foot down and told her not only would she not embarrass him by marching off to war, but if she thought she was so smart, it was time she moved out of his house, got a job, and stood on her own two feet. Which she’d told him she would. So there.
As if he’d needed to lash out at her worse than he already had, he’d pointed at the front door and bellowed, “Go to hell, little girl! You’re not smart enough to make it out there. It’s a big world. You’ll never amount to anything. You’re just like your mother. You don’t have the balls!”
He had that right. She hadn’t come with balls, but it’d been good to finally understand why he’d denigrated her throughout her life. He must’ve wanted a son, but got stuck with a daughter.
Instead of marching straight to the USMC recruiter, she’d panicked and applied at the local grocery store as a bagger. Her dad had ridiculed her so much growing up, that she’d never had much confidence in herself. And because living on the streets those miserable weeks after she’d been forced out of her dad’s house had been so, so scary, she’d cut herself short and settled for less. Then, when she’d met Nash, she’d settled for less again and married the first guy who came along. She knew now that the Corps would’ve snapped her up, no questions asked. But she hadn’t known that then. Hence her safe accounting degree. Her college debt. And Nash Coogan, her lying, two-timing ex.
She was one of those stupid, stupid women who married their dads. Nash was her father all over again. Condescending. Critical. Quick to point out her mistakes and flaws. Never listening, always arguing. Oblivious to the sound of her voice. Neither he nor her father had ever shut up long enough to understand that she was no idiot. That she’d always contributed more than her fair share. Not like what she’d said had ever mattered.
“Life hands us lemons sometimes, doesn’t it, junior agent?” Jameson asked, his head cocked as if he were still trying to figure her out. He shrugged. “I figured if the new guy in the office was a junior agent, you must be, too.”