Trevor stood in line at his favorite coffee shop, trying very hard not to engage with anyone. He held his book in such a way as to make it clear he was not looking for conversation.
The man in front of him was having none of that distance, and the line was moving slower by the minute.
"You're reading Shakespeare?" the young blond asked. He seemed genuinely curious, so Trevor took a chance and answered.
"Yes." Okay, it wasn't much of a response, but it was as close to polite as he felt like being.
"Which play?" The man was clearly bored. It felt like he was sizing him up, but then maybe that was just what Trevor expected them to do, because pretty much everyone did.
He looked down so he could meet the man's eyes. "Not a play. I'm reading the sonnets."
"I could never get into those. I guess I haven't been in love enough to fully understand." The man shrugged.
"You read Shakespeare?" Trevor was intrigued. Not many did these days, at least not outside of school. But this guy seemed genuinely interested, and the line was moving slowly. Some intelligent conversation would help pass the time.
"I do. Sometimes. But I'll tell you straight, I prefer science fiction. Classics, though."
Trevor let a smile pass over his lips. "Me, too. Niven, even Lewis. Have you read Octavia Butler?"
"You should. You'd probably like her work."
Trevor was surprised to see the young man take out a notepad and write the name down. "I'll look her up when I get back to the office." He put the notepad away, and then looked up into Trevor's eyes. "So, I have to ask. What's with the contacts?"
That was a question he was used to. "I need them to see, and I wanted them to reflect what's going on inside of me. So many people only see the outside."
"What do you do when you're not reading or stuck in this line?"
"I've just finished college. I'm not sure what I'm going to do next. You know? It feels like there's something I'm supposed to be doing, but I haven't found it yet."
The man reached into his pocket, pulled out a card, and handed it to Trevor. CEO of the Spaceport - that bizarre science fiction place that just opened up.
"I've been meaning to swing by and check that place out. You think you can make a go of it?" He looked at the name on the card. "Cordell?"
The man offered his hand to shake. "Friends call me Cord and the place is growing."
"This may sound ridiculous, or forward, or something, but I'm looking for someone smart and strong. You ever thought about working security?"
Trevor laughed. "Usually when people ask me if I've thought about working security, they are looking for big and dumb."
Cordell shook his head. "Not at the 'port. I need smart. But I won't lie. Big is definitely a plus. Please tell me you work out. "
"Yeah." He shrugged. "When you're big, there's always someone who wants to test themself against you."
"And the hair and the eyes?"
"Keep people from making too many assumptions."
"I think our meeting today was lucky. If you're interested, I think you should visit the 'port. Let me give you a tour. Let's see if our little adventure feels like something you're supposed to be doing."
"You offer a job to everyone you meet in a coffee shop?"
"Nope. You're the first. But you're also the only one I've ever met who won't need much of a costume to fit right in."
If someone else had said that, it would have felt like an insult, but Cordell seemed to genuinely like him. Trevor looked at the card. Stuck it in his book as a bookmark. "Maybe I will come by and check out your place."
Cordell would later say that it was fate that led him to be in the right spot at the right time to meet Trevor, because he couldn't have imagined anyone better suited to protect the 'port.
After Trevor recovered from being shot by the first alien visitor to the 'port, he knew he was right where he belonged.
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