I said there was a job in the works and this is the beginning. A lot of Eliot in this one, hope you don't mind.
"Damn it, Hardison," Eliot practically yells. "All Christmas trees are dead! They've been chopped down!"
"I know that, Eliot," he replies, trying to stay calm. "My point is that I didn't want a tree that actually looks dead."
"It didn't look dead."
"It looked sad." Parker twists in the passenger seat and takes Hardison's hand. "We had to get it," she continues, her eyes winning him over. "Nobody else would have. It'd still be there, all alone on Christmas if we didn't take it home."
"Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown," he mutters in defeat.
After the tree lot, the next stop is a nearby hardware store for decorations. As Parker and Hardison debate whether to get an angel or a star for the tree, Eliot veers off on his own. He's almost on autopilot, adding basic supplies to his cart without much thought.
"Excuse me, could you help me?"
It takes him a second to realize that the woman is talking to him.
"I'm sorry, I don't work here…" he trails off when he turns toward her. She's cute and just his type.
"I know, but you look a lot more reliable than him," she motions toward the seventeen year old store clerk. "I mean you're wearing plaid and boots. They're all scuffed up and everything." She sounds tired, but Eliot knows better than to point that out to any woman. "Look at him. He's wearing Pumas and they're still shiny." She makes a valid argument.
"So, what's your question?"
"Somebody smashed my window, and it's twelve degrees outside so I can't just have a hole in my house." Judging by her body language, the situation isn't as simple as she's making it sound. "What do I do?"
"I would suggest buying a new window and hiring someone to install it," Eliot states as kindly as possible.
"That sounds great, but I can't. In addition to not being able to afford a security system, new windows and their installation aren't in the budget." Her voice is getting more and more strained. "All that junk about glass houses is bullshit. It doesn't matter if you throw stones or not. It still comes back to money." She stops after hearing how harsh she sounds and rushes to apologize. "I'm sorry. That was so much more information than you needed."
"That's okay," Eliot says, amplifying the southern charm. "I can tell you're really upset."
"I run a shelter for abused women, and somebody broke in today. We're all on edge."
"Was anyone hurt?" He's already steering them toward what she'll need.
"No, they just trashed my office."
"Was anything taken?" he asks tossing a box of nails into the cart.
"I haven't really had the chance to take inventory. I'm focusing on patching up the stupid hole." Again, Eliot can sense there's much more below the surface, but chooses not to press her.
"Do you have a circular saw?" he asks instead.
"Circular saw?"
"Yeah, you'll need it to cut the plywood to size," Eliot explains.
"I have a hammer and a screwdriver…and they both have pink handles."
"It's okay, I have one I can lend you."
"Thanks," she says starting you relax a bit.
"Don't worry about it," he says laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. When she flinches slightly he quickly apologizes and takes half a step back.
"No, I'm sorry. I'm a little jumpy today."
"That's understandable."
"I just can't figure out why anyone would do this. We don't have any money, it's a non-profit. I work part-time doing hair just to keep the lights on." Her emotions are getting closer and closer to the front. "These women, some of them leave everything behind. They come to me to feel safe."
Her voice cracks slightly as her eyes well with tears. "Now I can't even give them that." The girl blinks rapidly and straightens up. "Sorry. We haven't been properly introduced. I'm Jordan Schulz," she says glossing over the tension of the previous moments. "I'm the crazy girl the harasses strangers and breaks down in the middle of Menard's."
"Eliot Spencer," he says shaking her hand. "I think I can help."
"I knew it," Jordan replies with false optimism. "Those boots are a dead giveaway."
"Here he is!" exclaims Parker bounding around a corner. Hardison is close behind, arms full of lights, tinsel and ornaments. "We need your vote to break the tie," she says holding up an angel in one hand and a star in the other.
"Do I look like I care?" Eliot asks gruffly.
"Not really," Hardison states the obvious before dumping everything into the cart. "Who might this be?" he asks finally noticing the stranger.
"And, how does she feel about tree toppers?" Parker adds.
"Guys, meet Jordan Schulz. This is Alec Hardison and Parker," he points to each of them in turn.
"Nice to meet you," she responds politely. "And, I vote for the angel."
"Yes!" Parker hisses. She puts the angel in the cart and strolls victoriously down the aisle to return the rejected star.
"Were you dropped on your head or were you just born stupid?" Eliot asks, smacking the back of his friend's head. "Don't you want her to say yes when you propose?" Hardison shushes him violently and nervously surveys the area. "Until that ring is on her finger, you agree with her. Any discussion, any debate, Parker wins. Got it?"
"Fine, as long as you stop telling random strangers about it!" Hardison whispers harshly. "No offense," he adds, nodding at Jordan. She shrugs in acceptance, clearly unbothered.
"She's not a stranger. She's a client," Eliot corrects.
"Nate said no jobs. He said it about twelve times."
"It's not really a job," he explains further. "I'm fixing a window and you're installing a security system."
"No! I can't ask you to do that," Jordan interjects. "I was venting before. It's not that big of a deal. I just need a circular saw." Seeing that they are completely unconvinced, she quickly loses steam. "And, someone to show me how to use it…" she trails off. "It's going to be fine."
The guys ignore her protests and start discussing details. Motion activated flood lights, security cameras, new dead bolts, the works.
"We'll need to make two extra stops," Hardison announces, eyes glued to his phone's screen. "But they're both pretty close. We should be able to get most of this done tonight."
"Good. Let's get going. Where's Parker?"
"Uh-Oh," Hardison mutters, seeing her wide grin as she returns.
"Parker, what is that?" Eliot asks slowly.
"A snowman," she says innocently.
"What does it do?" He's already dreading the answer.
"Sings…dances a little."
"Why is it dressed like Elvis?"
"I like it," Jordan chimes in.
"Nate's going to hate it," Hardison realizes.
"He's not the only one…" Eliot grumbles.
"So, maybe he won't notice that we're doing a little side job."
"We're doing a side job?" Parker asks excitedly.
"Not we. Us," Eliot states certainly. "You and the snowman are staying home." Parker pouts a bit when he relays the plan and Jordan tries to object again.
"It's okay," Parker cuts her off. "This is what we do."
"Are you guys like the A-Team or something?" she asks, only half kidding.
"You know it!" Hardison beams. He takes the two foot tall Elvis Snowman off Parker's hands and throws and arm across her shoulders. They stroll toward the checkout, leaving Eliot and Jordan behind.
"I'm sorry to dump all this on you."
"She's right. This is what we do. Everyone deserves to feel safe, and we can help."