Loch shrugged. “I’m visiting the area and don’t have many friends around. Wanted some company, that’s all. Figured you might have a good story.”
“I’ve got the same story as every other bum out on the street.” He took another long drink of coffee and then raised his mug into the air for the waitress. “Had some hard times, and then had some more hard times on top of that. Now I’m here.”
“What did you do for a living? Before the hard times?”
Rex scratched at his scraggly beard. “Been a lot of things. Security guard, mall cop, door-to-door salesman, soldier . . .”
“Soldier? Were you in a war?” The two plates of burgers were set down in front of them and Loch obediently took a bite because Rex did.
Between quick mouthfuls of food, Rex nodded. “Iraq. Two tours. Fucked me up in the head but good. Had trouble keeping a job down after that.”
“Because of post-traumatic stress?”
“No, because I missed Iraq so much.” Rex scowled at him. “What do you think?”
“Sorry. Stupid question.” He felt like an ass. Of course it was something along those lines. Bellissime had a very small militia that they never sent out to war, but he’d visited foreign hospitals as a visiting dignitary and there had always been more soldiers there than made him comfortable. Living in Bellissime had meant living in a protected bubble, and he was just now starting to realize how lucky he was. He took another bite of the terrible burger, thoughtful.
“So what is it you do, then?”
Loch made a rueful face. “It’s going to sound ridiculous, but I’m a baron.”
“A baron?” Rex’s thick brows drew down. “Like from England?”
“Actually I’m from Bellissime. It’s close to Monaco. Very small, tucked into the Alps.”
“So what is it that barons do?”
That was a good question. “Photo opportunities, visiting foreign dignitaries, things like that. Back home I played a lot of polo and rugby.”
He grunted and mopped his plate with a French fry. “And here?”
“Here? Not a lot.” Loch set his burger down. “I go running, and I spend time with my . . . girlfriend.” The word was strange on his tongue, but he could grow to like it. “Other than that, not much.”
“No wonder you’re bored and talking to the likes of me.” Rex grunted and polished off his burger.
“I’m talking to you because I thought you might be interesting.”
“Because I’m homeless? Didn’t see you grabbing anyone else off the streets.” The man gave Loch a shrewd look. “Bet any of those people would love to have lunch, too.”
He was ashamed to realize that Rex was right. He had been fascinated—appalled, too—by the fact that he was homeless. He said nothing.
Rex nodded at Loch’s plate. “You gonna finish that?”
Loch pushed the plate toward him. “Be my guest.”
They were both quiet as Rex ate the remains of Loch’s lunch. “So what’s your goal here?” Rex said after a while.
“Goal?”
“With being my best buddy all of a sudden? Do you know how much you’ve given me in the last three days?”
Loch paused. He never paid attention. “No.”
“Two hundred and twenty-six dollars.” Rex pointed at their plates. “You know how much this cost? This lunch?”
“No?” Why did that matter?
Rex shook his head, wiped his hands with a napkin, and then pocketed a stack of them. “You keep giving me wads of money every day, and while I appreciate it, between that and the lunches, I’m just trying to figure out your angle.”
Loch stiffened. “I’m just trying to help out. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“No, I wanted money. You trying to help me or help yourself?”
That was . . . a very good question, and one Loch had no answer for.
***
The conversation with Rex was still bothering him when he returned to the hotel a short time later. Taylor waved at him and made a phone gesture with her hand, then murmured something into her headset as she typed furiously. He headed for the bathroom and took a long shower, but even after he dried off, he was still troubled.
Talking to the homeless man had been an eye-opener. Here he was, thinking he was doing some sort of great favor for the man, when Rex had totally turned it around on him. He wasn’t doing a favor for Rex, he was doing something that would make himself feel better about Rex’s situation. The realization was both astute and shameful. And when Rex had pointed out that Loch had no concept of money? It had just made him feel worse, like a spoiled child.
How was it that he didn’t know the basic values of things? Was the bubble he lived in back home greater than he’d imagined? Was that why he was so fascinated and also horrified by Rex and his situation? Because it shone a light on his own flaws?
Loch dressed in a pair of casual slacks and a polo shirt, but couldn’t find socks. He dug through his drawers of clothing, and then another when no socks turned up. Barefooted, he padded out into the living room, where Taylor was removing her headset. “Have you seen my socks?”
“No. Should I be aware of your sock location?” she teased. “Perhaps they’ve been taken by rabid sock monkeys?”
He frowned and headed for the coat closet at the front of the hotel room where his freshly laundered clothing was normally deposited. No socks. “Did anyone come by to get my socks?”
“I don’t know.” She was watching him curiously, amusement on her face. “Are they that important?”