Chapter Twenty-Two

Macs

I exhale, filling the air around me with a cloud of smoke. It’s a nice bar and a really fucking expensive bar. The suit encasing my body cost five thousand dollars. When I leave here for the night, it will smell like I crawled out of a sewer. She watches my lips and licks her own. Grinning, I inhale another drag.

“You’re playing tennis tomorrow?” I ask. Casually, I lean back and place my elbows on the bar, praying the bartender wiped down this section.

She nods, eyes rimmed in thick kohl open wide. She’s fucking putty in my hands.

“What time?” I ask, leaning toward her on the barstool. “Who are you playing with?” Please fucking answer honestly. Please. I’ve been after this information all week. I ruined my suit for this. Please, Christ, give me what I need.

I let the scruff on my face brush against her cheek. “I love tennis,” I whisper. “You know that.” Completely in line with my character, I motion for the bartender to bring another round.

She flutters her eyelashes when I lean away. She’s pretty. In the normal sort of way. Lots of makeup and lots of plastic surgery to make her lips look like they can suck a mean dick. “Doubles,” she says. “My husband and his partner Pierre St. Croix and his wife,” she adds.

Thank you, Jesus. I could kiss this bitch. The bartender slides us the drinks. Her a martini dirty, me a brown tinged water in a lowball. The bartender knows me. He’s also being paid well to keep his trap shut. I can’t drink while I’m working. On something this important, I wouldn’t dare. She crosses and uncrosses her legs.

“I wish I could play with you instead,” she says.

I lick my lips because I know she’s watching. Indifferently, I take out my phone and send the text.

“Do you want to get out of here?” she asks, running her long nails through her fake blond hair.

We could fuck right here on the bar and no one would say a thing. It’s one of those places everyone rich and famous goes to have an affair. I saw her damn husband in here last week when she was out with her friends. It’s taken two full months of wining and dining and playing interested to get Pierre’s name from her lips and into my hidden mic. It’s all we need to peg her husband and the dominos will fall perfectly from there.

He financed the terror attacks—a very large portion of the attacks. He’s big into gun smuggling. The law enforcement have been trying to take him down for years. Dirty money always stays dirty money.

“I should get going, actually,” I reply, looking at my watch.

She knits her brows together, and I understand the look. Even though she has so many injectable fillers in her face, it shows no emotion. She’s wary. I might have to fuck her after all. Take one for the goddamn team. Hell, celebrate this victory by fucking his wife. That would have a nice aftertaste, I think.

“I could probably push the meeting if you really need me,” I say, tilting my head in question.

She stands from her stool and pulls me to her by jerking the lapels of my jacket. I go. She kisses me, and it tastes awful. Like drunk breath mated with vodka and plaque. I use the least amount of effort when I kiss her back. It’s just enough. She moans into my mouth like a porn star. I roll my eyes. They’re shut, so no one knows. If you’d told me I would be required to act when I became a Navy SEAL, I would have called you a liar.

Other people may be up for this particular job skills wise, but the people we’re after are dangerous and those same people aren’t up for that aspect of this game. SEALs are. So, here we are, sniffing around suburban housewives with nefarious husbands spread across America.

I haven’t heard from Teala. Not that it surprises me. Her mom gives me small updates every once in a while and I try not to let them affect me or cloud my judgment. I’ve made the right decision in staying away. She’s getting better, and I can focus on my career. I even tried dating a girl a month or so ago. It got messy because I was also trying to date stank-breath-bomber-husband at the same time and even I have to admit, one chick is more than enough work. It was always going to be halfhearted, because try as I might, my heart beats for Teala. I don’t remember the last time I saw the walls of my own house or felt like myself, or wanted to do anything besides work. It’s in the quiet moments that the fear slips in. It’s terror because I might have made a huge mistake. Fear that I’ll never have that feeling in my chest again.

I lost myself for a bit there after we broke up. The missions got weirder and my head wasn’t right to begin with, and I was too sad to realize I was better at acting than I was at real life. Obviously I hid my pain well and no one suspects a thing. My parents asked about Teala and it’s the first time I had an honest conversation about what happened. They were concerned for her, and my feelings were pushed to the wayside. It’s all so tedious. If she reached out at all, I know I would run with that shit and I don’t do second chances for anyone or anything.

“Want me to suck your dick? Let’s go in the back,” Alligator breath rasps into my mouth.

I shrug, noncommittally. With a quick glance around the room and a nod to the bartender I let her lead me to the back rooms. It’s like a baby whore house. I finish off the cigarette right before she pulls me into the blue room. I started smoking to hide the fact that my breath never tasted like alcohol. I was surprised by how well it worked, if not completely appalled by how quickly I got used to it.

“Suck it while I’m standing this time,” I command.

Dropping to her knees, she glances up at me. I hand her a condom, because there is no way I want her tongue anywhere near my actual dick. She rolls it on like a champ and swallows my cock whole. It’s a fumbling mess. I feign disinterest, because that’s her thing and scroll on my phone.

I’m checking my personal email account when it finally starts to feel good. Delete a few messages. “Ahhhh, yes. Like that.” Junk mail folder. Tap. Teala Smart, Subject: I’m sorry. Another one from Teala, Subject: Disregard my last message, and then another, Subject: You are a cruel man. “FUCK!” I roar. I tap to open the first email so quickly the phone falls out of my hands and lands on the bimbo with a solid thwack.

She falls back, clutching her forehead.

“I’m so sorry! I’m sorry!” I say. I have visions of singing drop it down low, but that would be too much like my real self and right now I have to read the messages. They were from months ago. What have I done? Why didn’t the message hit my inbox? My stomach turns and my head gets light. I zip my pants up and rip the condom off. Grabbing a tissue, I wad the condom up and pocket it.

“Jesus, Will, what’s up with you tonight?” she asks. Tears of pain fill her eyes and her black makeup starts smearing down her cheeks.

No. This isn’t good. I stoop to collect my phone.

“Disinterest is one thing. Being so tied up in whatever is on your phone is offensive.”

Fuck. I slipped up. Literally and figuratively.

I cup her cheeks and try to wipe away the black streaks. Her head will have a large knot on it. There’s no way around it. She must realize I’m panicked. “I’m clumsy. I fall all the time. Don’t worry. He won’t even notice. Kind of like you not noticing I was giving you the best blowjob of your life.”

I laugh. “That was not the best blowjob of my life, sweetie. Nice try, though.”

Her brows knit together. “You’re a dick. Maybe I will tell my husband.”

I don’t have the heart to tell her a mass of people are heading to his business right now to lock him away…forever. Her too, if they find she had any intel of it. At this point I highly doubt it, but she knows her husband has been up to no good. I just don’t think she knows how destructive he’s been.

“I have to go.” With the swift goodbye, I leave her on her knees in the blue room.

I nod at Moose in the corner of the bar as I enter the large smoky space. He smiles widely and stands to join me. We walk outside together and hop into the large white SUV. The teammates in the vehicle cheer and slap our backs as we get in.

“It was mostly me,” I say, correcting the raucous bunch, flashing a vain grin.

Moose disagrees and the tone of the vehicle stays elated as we drive away. We’re finished. This job is complete. No knife fights like last time either. Success.

I sit in the back seat and read the emails from Teala labeled as junk. The first email makes my chest hurt, because I know what comes next.

Subject: Disregard my last message

I’m not sure what came over me. I never should have sent the last message. You obviously have no need for my forgiveness, so I never should have offered it. I’m mad at you. Now that I’m far enough away from the situation to see things clearly, I’m pissed as hell. You can’t tell someone you love them and then never come back around regardless of their crazy status. I’ve decided you must have been mistaken. It wasn’t love. It was something else. He’s made me realize no one is irreplaceable. Consider yourself aware of my feelings on the matter.

Peace,

Teala too Smart to waste any more time on you.

My hands are sweaty and I have to wipe them down my suit pants to get the slickness away. Who is he? Who made her realize? I grit my teeth and open the last message.

Subject: You are a cruel man

Not that I thought you would deign to respond to my lowly emails, but at least write back and tell me you got them. Are you dead? Or alive and cruel? I’m not sure which fate I prefer. Carina tells me I’ll have to see you at her wedding. I’m not sure if I want to go. If it’s worth the heartache I’m sure will arrive at the sight of your fucking dimples. You aren’t mine anymore. And that fact hurts more than admitting I’m not yours either. Do us both a favor and don’t show up. We know it would only end in a pity fuck. I don’t need that kind of bad karma in my life. Charlotte says there’s a special place in hell for men like you and for once I believe something she says.

Teala

I write out at least ten responses but end up deleting them. Which email would I reply to? I have the thought to reply to the first one and pretend I didn’t get the other two. Yes. It’s the only logical plan.

Teala,

I haven’t been checking my personal email while I’ve been working. Please forgive me. I’m glad you are feeling better. Do you want to get together when I arrive home? Coffee? Smith and Carina are getting married as I’m sure you well know. Perhaps I could accompany you to the wedding? I should be back in San Diego for a bit. I’ve been extremely busy, but you’re always on my mind.

Love,

Macs

Sweat beads on my forehead as I hit send.

“Dude, are you defusing a bomb?” Tahoe asks from the seat beside me.

My thumb taps the button to darken my screen.

I swallow hard. How to explain that emailing Teala causes my nerves to fray, and conducting a national level, dangerous mission leaves me cool and collected? “Checking mail,” I say with a shrug, turning my focus out the window. Cruisers are speeding down the street, their lights flashing in harried dismay.

“Trying to patch things up now that we’re heading back?” he asks.

It would make sense. I think it’s what he does now that the dating apps are null and void. He makes nice with one of the women from his past to make sure he has sex lined up for his free time.

I shake my head. “That’s over. You know that.”

Tahoe laughs. “I’ve seen enough of this shit over the years to know when it’s over. You haven’t bagged any chicks since her, have you?”

I don’t know anything about his history with any types of relationships. He’s so secretive. I wish I had that type of superpower. There are whispers Tahoe got his heart crushed and that’s what turned him into this monster.

I shrug again. “Trust me, it’s over.” Even if it wasn’t her last emails made it perfectly clear what her opinion on the matter is. “I can’t deal with that. Wouldn’t you agree I have enough to worry about?”

Tahoe knows what happened. After I spoke with my parents about Teala’s condition, I told him. Or better yet, he coaxed it out of me when we were drinking too much beer one night. I chance a glance his way.

He’s smiling at me like a fucking bastard. “This job is a no-brainer for you, you pretty asshole. That woman? A challenge that was too much to handle. You bit off more than you could chew.”

I narrow my brows. “Are you telling me I failed?”

His laughter is loud, his head thrown back. “I would never tell you that. You might kill me,” he says, eyes twinkling. “I’m saying she hurt you.”

“Fuck you,” I reply.

“Fuck you very much,” Tahoe sings, still laughing. Then he goes on to explain how Teala is sort of his hero for doing what he couldn’t. Fucking asshole.

He’s one hundred percent right.

Teala doesn’t reply to my email until later that night. I’m getting used to being in my house again. It feels more like a hotel than an actual hotel feels. My television is on, the news playing low in the background when my laptop pings a new message. I starred her email address as VIP so I wouldn’t have a gut-wrenching repeat occurrence.

Subject: Weddings and lies

Macs,

It’s unfortunate you weren’t checking your email. I saw they arrested people in NYC a couple days ago. I’m assuming a way to go is in order. I’m keeping busy with the usual, trying to get acclimated to life after the attacks. It’s taken me a while to feel this normal and I’m afraid that any small shift will create a toppling of emotions and more life destruction. It’s hard to believe how much was stolen from so many people, you know? I feel lucky when I think about it that way. My family and friends are okay. I’m scared a lot of the time still, but fear is just background noise instead of the headliner. Walking down the street I can forget, even for just a moment or two, that anything happened at all. Honestly, you remind me of too much bad, Macs. Falling in love turned into something villainous. Like a virus taking over my body, it stole so much away. It’s not your fault, but in the same token, there’s nothing you can do about it. I should have guarded my heart better. It was foolish for me to think it could have been a normal relationship. You didn’t respond to my emails, and those months gave me something you never could—not while my mind was twisted with love, anyways. Perspective. And mine is better without you in it. Stay safe, you fucking hero.

Best,

Teala

P.S. I’ll see you at the wedding.

I don’t mean to break my laptop. It finds its way to the floor on its own. I pace the room, focusing on random things as I go. The bright white molding. The handle on the glass doors. The clock ticking on the fucking wall, the television reporting on the same bullshit that’s been on forever now, the coffee table. Avoidance. I can’t think about her words and what they mean. It’s one thing for her to break up our relationship when she wasn’t thinking clearly. It’s quite another to make a level-headed decision and still conclude we’re not good together. The kicker is I can’t fault her. She wrapped up her well-being around being away from me.

I want her happiness even if it means my destruction. I kick the laptop on a pace back toward my front door and curse loudly, pulling on the tips of my hair. I open a beer and drain it quickly. It doesn’t erase anything, so I drink another. Then another. When Tahoe shows up with several of his friends, I open the door widely and let them pass into my space. I don’t even question it like I usually would.

Teala made the decision for me.