Vintage Rob

Chapter 1 - Trigger Boy

Robert Pirone slipped into Jennifer's cozy office and onto the heavy wooden chair by her door. She jerked away from her computer with a tense smile. "Oh, hi." She stuck her head into the hall and closed the door. On the way back to her desk, she pulled off his black winter cap and dropped it into his lap. "Thanks for clearing your schedule, Rob."

She dated Rob's older brother, Gene, and knew his schedule was wide open. "Good one. Ha, ha." Until last month, Rob freelanced in Afghanistan as a photographer. He uncrossed his arms. Jennifer had never asked for favors before. Her request did make him feel kind of useful. Maybe it was nothing though, and she just wanted to get him moving again. "So, how may I be of service, madam?"

Jennifer sipped water from the clear plastic thermos on her desk. "That grad student I told you about? He retired from the Navy, not the Marines."

Whatever it was, the guy made her nervous. Rob knew that much. "Not a former SEAL, I hope."

"Maybe." Jennifer lifted her arms like a strongman. "Mark works out." She opened a drawer and placed papers from her desk into it. "I bet he'll be easier to handle than Makiko," she said.

Makiko was Rob's estranged, 16 year old daughter. Japanese courts don't grant joint custody, and Makiko's mother refused to let him visit or even communicate with her, but a near death scare last month cemented a conviction into his head - he would see Makiko, no matter what.

"So about Mark? What's the problem?"

Instead of answering, Jennifer stared out the window at the white, winter sky. While crossing the campus, Rob had stared at it too. If he wasn't careful, anything, even the blank sky, triggered memories of the IED, the explosion, that killed his friend Katsutoshi and a bunch of others last month.

"You okay?" Jennifer pushed one of Rob's outstretched legs lightly with her shiny, blue shoe.

"Yeah, but you spaced out too! I saw you."

"You're right, I did." Her laughter took off in the office like a small bird. "About Mark... I... He... I don't like his style. He's more your type."

Everyone needed a Jennifer to mess with them. "How so?"

"Very pushy." She raised her eyebrows. "About you."

"Me?"

"Yeah, you. Groups of students come to the house sometimes. Mark came and obsessed over your photographs on the wall. He remembered them last month... when you died."

Reports of Rob's death had been premature, obviously. When the world learned a Pulitzer Prize winning photojournalist survived, few people knew his name or face. He pulled his black hat over his head. "Well, dealing with Mark might be good for me." He put his hands on his thighs to stand up.

Jennifer pulled a stiff, dark handbag from a shelf. "If not, that Gears CD will be. That band is getting loads of hype. Girls galore, Rob. You'll tire of them."

"Hey, don't talk like that when I bring Makiko around." He held the door for her.

Jennifer studied him. They teased each other all the time, maybe too much. "Leave your coat. We're staying in this building."

Rob tossed the coat back onto the chair. The Gears bassist, a friend's daughter, had asked him to photograph them, and the band ended up writing a song about him. Hopefully, Makiko was their biggest fan. "Maybe Mark's not really interested in me. Maybe it's about the Gears."

Jennifer shook her head. "I don't think so."

***

Winter break started the next day, and the Campus Center cafeteria was nearly deserted. From an empty group of tables, Rob scouted the two entrances for Mark, a short, muscular man with green cowboy boots.