"So Barsky, I won the auction! I'm going to have lunch with Theon Greyjoy for $133!" I'd just received the confirmatory email from Save the North and was giddy.

"133 dollars? Are you crazy?" Barsky sounded excited too, but in a panicky do-you-have-any-idea-what-you-just-did, not an upbeat I'm-so-happy-for-you-and-even-a-tad-jealous, kind of way.

I didn't think that I was that big of a chump. Wasn't he a fan too? "I thought it was a bargain, actually. The previous bid was $34, and Jon's bids had already hit five figures, so I was feeling kind of bad for Theon – you know I have a soft spot for him, I always fast forward through his torture scenes - so I figured I'd top the previous bid by $99. My last pair of shoes cost more."

"Don't you realize that Ramsay is going to be looking for you guys? This is the perfect opportunity for him to find Theon, and you'll be in the middle of it! What were you thinking?"

"Um, that I wanted to do my part for the Save The North historic preservation fund? I mean, I know Ramsay's still holding Winterfell, but when Sansa and the rest of the Starks get it back, they're going to need money to rebuild those glass conservatories."

Silence on the other end for a bit. "I'm not even going to ask where you're having lunch."

"That's good. The email told me the location is secret and will be revealed to me only an hour before the meeting time." Now that I said it out loud, it did seem a bit extreme. I'd figured it was because they were worried about paparazzi, but maybe that wasn't the only group the Save the North people were worried about following me to lunch.

XXX

I spent the next few weeks puzzling over what I could talk about with Theon. I've never actually spoken more than a sentence to anyone famous before and was a little nervous. I couldn't joke about bad dates – my usual conversational fallback – because Theon's stories (at least his latest ones) weren't something one wants to discuss over a meal. Asking about where he grew up would open a can of worms. Family would be an even worse topic. Even the weather was a minefield with those living in the North. Maybe pets? Both of us like dogs. I decided I'd just have to make small talk about whatever we were eating (although I'd have to be careful, that might remind him of his broken teeth) and see where things went from there.

XXX

"Are you going to take any weapons?" After our initial conversation Barsky had avoided all talk about the lunch for a couple of weeks, so I was surprised when he stopped by my office and brought it up on his own.

"Why would I?"

"To defend yourself."

"I think I can defeat Theon at this point with my bare hands."

"I think Theon's the least of your worries. Did you ever wonder who put in the $34 bid you beat? And why it was such a strange dollar amount?"

"So you still think Ramsay's going to crash the lunch? Because unless I find a longsword or bow and arrows and get a heck of a lot of training that I don't have time for – I have a brief due to Lou in three days – and start taking steroids to build up the muscles to use them, I don't think I'll be able to do much damage."

He rolled his eyes. "I was thinking more of a concealed knife in case Ramsay does show up and gets too…um…close to you."

My eyes widened. I'd been so distracted about what to talk about with Theon I hadn't considered that possibility. "Maybe I'll stop by the Army-Navy store after work tomorrow."

XXX

The night before the lunch I tried on multiple outfits. I needed to wear my most comfortable knee-high boots – they seemed to be the best place to hide my new knife, plus I could run in them without getting blisters within a block – which meant I'd have to change before leaving work, because all my work trousers were cut too wide to tuck into the boots. I decided on jeans rather than leggings because they seemed more substantial and had the advantage of pockets. No dangly jewelry someone could grab. I made sure I had mace and sunglasses in my bag. I spent the rest of the night rereading Theon's chapters (although I still only skimmed the torture scenes) looking for more conversation traps to avoid and charging my phone.

XXX

Barsky seemed bent on running my phone out of charge, though.

6:32 am

Barsky: Don't forget the knife!

Me: NOT awake enough to handle sharp objects.

7:14 am

Barsky: Did you pack the knife?

Me: Still eating my toast, so NO.

8:26 am

Barsky: Anything yet?

Me: No one eats lunch at 9:30 am, so NO.

8:52 am

Barsky: Did you remember to bring the knife?

Me: It's in my bag and will go in my boot before I leave for lunch.

Barsky: It's not in your boot now?

Me: Have you ever tried walking around with a knife in your boot? It's not comfortable, so NO.

And so on.

10:14 am

"I thought I'd check on you. Anything yet?"

I looked up from my computer and glared at Barsky. "I haven't notified you, so NO." I tossed him my phone, which had been sitting next to the keyboard all morning, making me jump every time it buzzed with Barsky's less-than-helpful texts. "Check for yourself."

I'd just answered his 10:12 am text, so the phone was still unlocked. He played with it for a few minutes while I continued typing on the computer, then placed it back on my desk. "It's not too late to back out."

I didn't even look up. "NO."

"Do you want me to go with you?"

"I think I already violated the confidentiality provision by even telling you I'm having lunch with him. The last thing I want is to have gone through all this only to have them turn me away because I brought an uninvited guest, so NO."

He sighed. "Promise me you'll text when you get there."

"NO. And go away. I have to finish this research memo today. And I will NOT answer any more of your texts."

I kept typing. I watched him leave out of the corner of my eye and hoped I wasn't being stupid, but he was getting pretty annoying.

XXX

My secretary came into my office at 11:06 holding an envelope. I looked up with surprise; I couldn't remember the last time she actually walked to my office without my expressly summoning her.

"Reception called. Someone dropped this off for you and said it was important." She handed me the envelope and left before I could give her work.

The envelope was plain, business-sized. There was a folded piece of plain white paper with a handwritten message in neat printing: "542 S. Cedar at noon." Nothing else. They really were trying to keep this secret. Happily, the location was only about 10 blocks from my office, so I had plenty of time. I saved my document, turned off the screen, and pulled out my bag to get changed.

To be continued...