The distinct "crack" of a wooden bar echoed through the stands at Comiskey field. Another line-drive for the White Sox sent a runner to first and another sliding over home plate. The crowd roared their approval, on their feet and wildly cheering. 

In a corner seat near the third base line, a woman sat by herself. She didn't seem to hear the crowd, or see the double play. Her eyes were hidden by a large pair of sunglasses, and her face somewhat obscured by a large brimmed straw hat. She didn't look like the other fans. While most were blue collar men, women in home sewed dresses, and small children in hand-me-downs and dirty faces, Emily Renfroe's presence was a stark contrast to the crowd. It's why she preferred a seat further away. She only brought one guard with her when she sneaked off to a game, and he stood a few rows behind her, never sitting. 

Today, the game was less entertainment and more of a get away. The night before had been taxing, and she needed room to breathe. Her mind was heavy with thoughts of unfamiliar alliances, the gala, Trevor, and ghosts. She thought the game would distract her. In a way, it had. There was to be a meeting in a few days where Emily would place a private bid on a contract for a major overhaul of Comiskey Park by Union Avenue Construction Inc. The bid would be unbelievably low, almost covering only materials and labor. In return for such an incredible price, Emily Renfroe would take 45% ownership in the Chicago White Sox organization. It was a bold move, especially for a woman, but it was a good one. If Emily was to maintain her growing reputation as "The Lady of Chicago," she needed to have her hand in a little bit of everything. Baseball was her connection to the people. 

The pipe organ struck up a lively tune as the Sox headed toward the outfield. Taking the opportunity for a stretch, Emily stood and started toward the nearest concession stand. Like a shadow, her guard stayed a few paces behind. When she had taken her place in line, she started digging through her handbag for a few dollars. 

She wasn't hiding, that was sure. Most of the people in Comiskey bled into the background, and the woman in the sunglasses and hat stood out like a sore thumb- or a flower in a dirt lot. Most people in this section of he field didn't dress like her, and the presence of the bodyguard seemed to confirm her identity, even though he couldn't see her face.

John had bounced around in Vegas, Philly, and Boston doing odd jobs and getting mentioned to the bigwigs by an associate. He wasn't a famous name, and he doubted anyone would have heard about him, but  if people asked around in the underworld they'd learn about a few months of solid work, mostly as an enforcer or security. At this point, he had to hope that that was enough to make his introduction.

John was halfway toward Emily when she stood up. For a moment, he thought he'd been spotted and prepared a witty remark, but she seemed to be focused on getting something to eat.

How the hell do you impress a mobster who was well on her way to controlling half the city?

Make an unforgettable impression.

John's worn leather jacket, scuffed shoes, and slightly wrinkled shirt and slacks let him blend into the crowd with ease. The bodyguard standing behind Renfroe in the concessions wasn't bad, but he wasn't particularly good, either. He seemed like the sort of guy you could hire for a dime a dozen.

It'd be a risky move, perhaps. John somewhat doubted that Renfroe would only have a single bodyguard- but it was worth the risk. John took a deep breath and gripped the gun in his pocket.

As the guard looked in the other direction, John stepped forward and pressed the muzzle of gun against the guard.

"Quiet- and no one gets hurt," he whispered. The guard froze. Deftly, John reached around and plucked the gun out of the guard's shoulder holster, slipping it into his other pocket before anyone could see it. "Take a walk and you won't catch a bullet."

The guard's expression seemed to bounce between sheepishness and rage, but after a moment he trudged off toward the exit. 

Grinning, John sauntered up behind Emily Renfroe.

"'afternoon, Miss Renfroe. Name's John. I'm looking for a job, and I hear you have an opening for a bodyguard."

"What?"

Emily looked over her shoulder, past the voice that spoke to her toward where Raymond should have been.

"Next!"

The concession stand attendant squawked for the next customer to step up, which happened to be Emily. She did a double-take between the concession stand clerk and the smirking man beside her. It was unusual for Emily to be flustered, but that's what she was.

"Um- popcorn, and a lemonade, please."

She pushed a $50 bill into the window, then turned around and peeled her sunglasses off as she looked up and down at the fellow. Raymond was clear out of sight. What the hell?

"Hey lady, come on, you're holdin' me up."

Without bothering to wait for change, Emily took the bag of popcorn and cup of lemonade and moved aside, tugging the sleeve of the man's leather jacket as she went. A few feet away, there was a short hallway that led presumably to some storage closet, but it was empty and out of sight.

"Alright, John, you certainly know how to get a woman's attention. And, it would seem that you're right- walking off the job like that isn't something I tolerate in my security detail. The important thing right now is, just how do you know my name?"

Despite having been established in Chicago for nearly 6 months, it hadn't yet sunk in that she might be well-known. On top of that, it was extremely unusual for anyone to approach her at the ballpark. 

Waiting for his answer, Emily remained extremely cool and collected, but her right hand was ready to go for the stiletto in her garter if needed.

John shifted slowly toward the hallway, moving further inside himself and leaving Emily at the outside so she'd feel less threatened. Her body blocked the crowd as John gently removed the gun and offered it to Emily, with the safety on and the barrel pointing at himself.

"He didn't exactly walk off; I'm afraid I dismissed him after taking this."

John leaned against the wall, focusing as much on the crowd over her shoulder as Emily herself.

"As for how I know your name, I've made a few small connections in the life, and I knew that I'd be making my way toward Chicago. Your name came up in conversation as one of the big time players in the city. Even bigger than Al Simmons out there."

He smiled, appearing relaxed and confident.

As he offered the gun, she eyed him carefully, then took the gun and handed him the popcorn and the drink. Listening, she checked the chamber, then secured the weapon in her bag, at least for now. 

She should have been annoyed by his play, but there was something she liked about the boldness. She wasn't ready to hire him just yet, but she couldn't be without security for the rest of the game. Raine would kill her himself. 

"Well, come on then. You can tell me more about yourself during the game. Do you have your own weapon?" 

She took the snacks back from him and started back toward her isolated corner of section 12.

He spoke under his breath, so they wouldn't be overheard.

"I do have my own, yes. I wouldn't have gotten rid of your pal back there and left you unguarded- although I do suspect you've got at least one other person keeping an eye on you tonight. And I'm happy to tell you whatever you'd like to know. You're the boss, after all. Hopefully."

He shrugged as he sat down in the seat next to her. As they talked, Emily noticed the way he continually scanned the area around them, seemingly as a second nature. 

"Do you want the long, tragic tale of my life? Or did you have specific questions?"

He smiled.

​​​​​​There was a funny little smirk on Emily's face as she gave her answer. 

"Oh, I have several specific questions. Should I decide to keep you on, we'll have plenty of time for the back stories."

In truth, Emily was rather amused by the whole situation. Likely, Raine would be utterly unamused, and God help Ray if he was found. John's little stunt was refreshing, in the same way leaving the hotel for a ballgame was refreshing. Settling back in her seat, she took a sip of lemonade before beginning. 

​​​​​​"I can tell you have all the mannerisms of a man with either security detail or military experience. Which one is it?" 

​​​​

John leaned back in the chair, resting his right ankle on his left knee as he tried to balance watching the game, watching Emily, and watching the crowd. Several specific questions? Seemed like a good sign.

"Both, actually. I spent some time in the army before I got kicked out. It was a miserable life, really. When I got out, I did odd jobs for people who needed protection. Bodyguard. Bouncer. Nothing fancy; I did good work, but it was only for small fries, so there wasn't anywhere to go with it. I figured the best thing I could do would be to ask around, find someone up and coming in a big city, and show them that they'd be better off with me as their security."

​​​​

Nodding, Emily seemed to have turned her attention away from the game while continuing her line of questioning. 

"Well, you certainly got a strong start there. Should this become an arrangement, you'll meet the head of my personal security detail, Raine O'Fallon. He has my team split into two when I'm on the move - which is often. Frankly, I think it's all a bit much, but I trust Raine implicitly. Where do you think you'd be best placed between the advance team and the...entourage...for lack of a better term."

From the field, a batter for the visiting team gave a mighty swing that popped off the side of his bat and came flying at a whizzing speed toward the stands. 

John smiled as he looked out at the game, then his eyes flicked back towards Emily.

"Frankly, I think it'd be good for my morale to be as close to you as possible."

As the ball blasted toward the stands, John watched intently as a father stepped in front of the ball to protect his child from getting hit. He was silent for a moment, longer than Emily expected. Nodding, he eventually continued.

"I've heard good things about you, Miss Renfroe. No details, of course, but I've heard talk about how involved you are in the business district. That's the sort of person I want to work for. It's motivation. That was my problem as a soldier; no one told me why we were doing anything, and I felt like the people making the decisions were on the other end of the world. I'd like to get some money in my pocket, and I'd prefer to do it working to build something."

With that sentiment, Emily had already made up her mind. He had successfully gotten her attention without being pandering, demonstrated skill and presence of natural instinct, and clearly had goals for himself. She was sold, but there were a few other specifics that she needed to know before she would sew up the deal. 

"I take it, by your travel, you don't have any immediate family? I am because, well, you know the way of this life. It's unpredictable. Most of the time, we'll be in Chicago, but we may have to fly at a moments notice. It's dangerous at times. Not a life that wives or girlfriends tend to appreciate."

The question was, admittedly, less about the job and more a curiosity for Emily. Still, a valid question for anyone taking up a job in personal security. 

"No family, no. Not alive, at least. No wife, no girlfriend. I've been too busy trying to make a name for myself and get some references to have time for any sort of serious relationship."

As a man approached behind Emily, she could see the way his eyes focused and his hand moved slowly toward his pocket, but when the approaching man pulled out a handkerchief instead of a gun, John relaxed. 

Satisfied with the answer and with his performance as a whole, Emily stood rather unexpectedly. She gathered her handbag, the popcorn, and the empty cup of lemonade and looked to her new bodyguard.

"It's time to take this conversation somewhere more private. You've got a lot to catch up on, and some paperwork to sign."

The Sox were going to win- they were three runs ahead and looked like they were still on fire. The game had been a good idea, even more than she'd bargained for. 

Once she tossed the last of the popcorn and the empty cup, she dug in her purse as she walked, taking a set of keys from it and tossing it toward John with no forewarning.

"We'll go to my office at the hotel. You drive, though. Embarrassingly, I never learned."

She picked up her pace as she made her way to the front gate, but then stopped suddenly.

"I just realized, I never asked your last name."

John raised his eyebrow and seemed amused at the idea of paperwork. He followed behind her, carefully watching the crowd as they made their way to the car. He was surprised to see the keys flying at him, but managed to catch them.

"Keats. When you show up at an orphanage without a last name, you've got to pick your own. Mine was from a book from someone important to me."

He shrugged before climbing into the car. As he pulled out of the parking lot and into traffic, he glanced at Emily.

"No interest in learning how to drive? I could show you, if you'd like. It's not too hard. Of course, you're in a position now where you can have people do it for you, so I suppose there's no need."

Emily's answer was quicker than she intended it to be; more high-pitched. 

"No...."

Realizing how strange that must have sounded, she smiled sheepishly and laced her fingers together in her lap. 

"I mean, thank you for offering. I keep meaning to learn, but things always seem to...get in the way. One day, I'll get there."

The truth of the matter was that she wouldn't let anyone she knew teach her. Gavin had offered to teach her, then he died. Alucard had offered to teach her, then he died. Emily was intelligent enough to know that one had nothing to do with the other, but there was a part of her memory, nonetheless, that kept her away.

Trying to think quickly, Emily dipped back into his employment. 

"Do you have a place to stay in Chicago? I'm not sure how long you've been here, but most of my guards live at the hotel. Two floors of the west tower are reserved for my staff, along with two apartments directly below mine. Raine lives in one of them. If you need accommodations, that would be part of your compensation package."

The streets of Chicago weren't hard to figure out. Some of the Eastern cities like Boston and Philadelphia were nightmares: cities that had grown so organically that no one had ever sat down and planned it. Chicago, on the other hand, had a good number of grids. As he followed Emily's directions, he kept an eye on the traffic as well.

"I'm in a rattrap of a motel at the moment, so I'm sure anything you could offer would be an upgrade. Is there anything else I'd need to know about the job? Like I said, I know it's the right move for me- just wondering if there's anything else I should be aware of? Or other people I need to know? And are there any other prizes in this compensation package?"

He grinned as they approached their destination.

As the car came to a stop at the covered front door of the Whitman Continental, Emily cut her eyes toward him with a little grin.

"What, you mean other than nearly 24 hours a day looking at my ugly mug?"

The bellman opened the door for her, then glanced at the unfamiliar driver with a puzzled stare. 

"Martin, this is Mr. Keats. He's just been hired to take Raymond's place. Would you please see that the car is parked? Thank you."

She slipped the porky bellman a twenty, then motioned for John to follow her inside. 

The bustling lobby was even more dazzling in the dim evening. Inset lights around the base of the dome took the place of the darkened skylight, and electric carriage lamps affixed at the top of the granite columns gave an elegant glow to the entire lobby. Nicole greeted Emily cheerfully, and offered an equally enthusiastic "good evening, sir" to John. 

Emily led him past the grand staircase to her office suite- still void of a secretary. A guard at the door nodded to Emily. Before he even had a chance to say anything, Emily stopped him.

"This is Mr. John Keats. He'll be joining my personal detail effective immediately. Raymond...took a more tempting offer."

She shot John a smirk then led him into her office. 

"Have a seat- I just need a minute to find something. Oh, are you hungry? I can have something brought in."

Shuffling a few things around on her desk, she found the file folder she was looking for. 

"Here it is. Anthony! Come in here and take the address of Mr. Keats' former residence then have Joey and the boys get his things. He'll be taking Suite 2."

Finally, she took a pen from an ornately carved sterling silver cup on her desk and handed it to him, along with a few papers stapled together.

"This is just standard employment information- same you'd get at any job. It's not entirely necessary for your actual position, but on the books you are an employee of the Whitman. Must keep the cover in tact, you know."

As he began, she took her seat behind the desk and started jotting a few things down herself.

"Once that is finished and I brief you on the current climate of things, we'll get you down for a physical, then I'll show you to your new quarters. Does that work for you?  Any affairs you need to get in order before you officially start?"

Emily didn't notice, but she was smiling. She'd arrived at the ballpark in a somber mood, but after meeting John Keats, she somehow felt less burdened than she had earlier. 

John tried to act like walking into this sort of building was normal for him, and he was mostly successful. Emily, however, did catch his eyes lingering on some of the more opulent features of the lobby. He flashed an easy grin as he sat across from his new boss.

"I'm fine, thank you. I had a hot dog at the game while I was appraising your security. Oh, and you probably don't want your boys picking up my things. There's, uh, some security measures in place that could result in some lost fingers. Or faces. I can handle it later, although I appreciate the offer."

As the talk turned to paperwork, he nodded.

"What's my 'official' job, then?"

He grinned.

"And a physical? Is that standard for all employs as well?"

Emily blinked a few times, caught just a bit off guard by the "security measures" crack. For a split second, she thought he might have been joking, but then again, maybe not.

"I like you. You've got a sense of humor that fits our organization nicely."

She returned a matching grin and stood from the desk, reaching across to shake his hand.

"Congratulations, you're the new Director of Facilities & Maintenance for the Whitman Continental Hotel. Comes with a salary of $70,000 a year, business expense account, an apartment, and full access to hotel services comped by the company. You have an office, a secretary, and and Assistant Director named Max who already does the actual hotel work."

Even for Emily, who had been in 'the life' for almost 12 years now, the job description she just gave this man seemed out of this world. Just over a decade ago, she was a newly graduated nurse, eating canned soup and working as an escort to make ends meet. The thought nearly forced a giggle from her.

"Off the books, you're going to be part of my private staff; second in command to my Sergeant at Arms, Raine. O'Fallon. You will be one of four on the personal detail. There are four on the immediate detail and six on advance. You'll meet them all tomorrow."

She took the completed papers from him, signed them quickly, then placed them back into the file folder to be processed later. 

"And yes, I require physicals and regular health exams for all of my private staff. Come on, I'll show you the clinic, and we can talk more about the non-hotel business there."

The pair walked back out of the office, pausing only for Emily to have a message sent to Raine. They left the office suite, rounded the corner from beneath the staircase, and came to the elevator lobby. While they waited for the elevator car, Emily explained the layout of the hotel- the East and West Towers, the ballroom and meeting rooms on the second floor of the lobby, and the general information about the hotel.

Once they were in the elevator, Emily pressed the button for the basement, but then gestured to the sub-basement button, which had a lock beside it.

"Raine will complete your tour down there tomorrow. I try to avoid going down there if at all possible."

The floor probably still smelled of fresh bleach from the previous evening. She hadn't seen it for herself, but she knew Raine and Devlin had done the job that needed done.

They exited the elevator and walked through a door into the very nicely equipped hotel clinic. Emily pointed to a chair beside a small desk.

"Have a seat there, and if you wouldn't mind slipping your shirt off."

To give him some privacy, Emily disappeared behind a screen. 

"This won't take a minute, promise." she called as she pulled off her suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of her blouse.

"Thanks," he grinned, "I try to keep it light when I can. But I wasn't joking about the traps. I'll head over and grab my stuff later."

He listened to the $70,000 with a raised eyebrow. John was either a bad poker player or not bothering to hide his reaction.

"That's... a lot of confidence in me. I'll try to live up to it. Not sure I need a secretary or an office, but I appreciate everything you're offering me here."

As they walked out of the office, John still seemed surprised, but very pleased. As they walked into the basement room, he shrugged off his shirt before she could make it to the screen. When Emily returned in view, John was looking at her with an amused, curious look.

"When do I meet Mr. O'Fallon?"