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Series 2:

7 years later.

{Lincoln's Pride}

Chapter 1

*****

"Leenk-un," He said it slowly, showing his gleaming white teeth as he enunciated, scrunching his large nose as though deciding if it really should be my name or not. It made his trimmed, black beard form a square around his full, reddish-brown lips. "Lincoln, why the second L? You don't pronounce it do you? English is so wasteful with letters... Lincoln Karsten, a very blonde boy name. Why were you named after a president?" He lifted his eyes from my wrinkled, hand-written resume to meet my gaze momentarily to indicate I should respond.

I cleared my throat. "I don't know, sir. I could ask my father if you like."

He waved a dismissive hand towards me with a smile to indicate he was joking and went back to reading the paper I had painstakingly written with a ruler and my best handwriting. I fidgeted with my new shirt. I had no interview clothes.

---

My friend Bridget had found this royal blue, barely worn polo from the donation pile at the thrift store on main street. She saved it for me. It fit a little snuggly on my small, but somewhat muscular frame. Rarely, one of our town's better families threw out stuff they had purchased rather than drive back down into Los Angeles to return it. In my town, you either got your clothes from there or the Walmart if you could afford it. Leaving town took gas and ambition, something most families in our poor little mountain town lacked.

---

"You've played baseball since you were a kid. Are you any good, little president?" He looked up at me with a smirk, again mocking my name somewhat.

---

I'd never been around Arab people. It was something strange to me. His voice; deep, thoughtful, but also relaxed and completely in power. It was an accent I'd never heard and it had a lulling rhythm to it that made me sleepy. He was easy enough to understand, comfortable with English tones and phrasing. But something about it let me know he was a man used to people complying to whatever he willed. He pronounced my name like it was exotic to the taste, but bitter going down.

He was handsome enough but foreign, dark, and I had a hard time reading his expressions. He was a hulk of a man probably brought on through hard work with expensive gym equipment rather than actual sports or labor. His coffee colored face showed flawless skin and a powerful jaw. Large, almost black eyes peered into me from below heavy black eyebrows. A prominent brown nose, though large, added an air of importance to him. It suited him and accentuated his looks. His lips, reddish-brown, were framed by a neatly trimmed black beard and opened to perfect white teeth. For all his expensive trappings and trimmed beard, he still very much had an air of youth to him. He couldn't have been that much older than I am.

"Yes... yes sir. We won north county pennant my Junior and Senior years," I smiled as my chest puffed out, excited to talk about something where I excelled. I pushed back my blonde hair. My sister had cut it this morning. It was shaved on the sides and had about two inches on top. His was a similar cut, but he had it slicked back with gel. I thought I noticed it thinning slightly on top. I smiled to myself.

His office was on the top floor in downtown LA. This wasn't a place I'd ever been. Glass, steel, corporate, I was far from home.

I'd awoken at 5 this morning and my family helped me get ready. Getting this internship would mean a new life for me, far from anything I'd ever known. After my haircut, I'd showered and put on the tight, new-to-me polo shirt tucked into khaki pants a size too small. I'd made a PB