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“I was not hostile. I was merely skeptical as to whether you would be a good fit for Pierce’s surrogate. Now, I can see that you are indeed perfect.”
He held my gaze a few seconds longer, then picked up his bags and walked inside. I stared after him for a while, thinking about what he’d said. I wasn’t used to putting my trust in people. Not after what happened with the Bobs.
It was… relieving. It made me feel like I belonged.
24
Melinda
With plenty of time to ourselves, Andrew and I finished reading each other’s book quickly. We met one evening in the parlor to exchange opinions. I made a big bowl of popcorn, and the bartender prepared us a big pitcher of margaritas.
“Have you heard from Pierce?” I asked while flopping down onto the couch next to Andrew. “I texted him, but he hasn’t responded.”
“I heard that they had to change camps this evening because of an issue with flooding,” he replied, grabbing a handful of popcorn. “I guess there’s no signal at the new campsite.”
“He’s alive, at least,” I said with a nervous laugh. “He finished seventh today.”
“He’s over the hump. Two more days and he’ll be done. He could limp the rest of the way and still finish.”
“How many people don’t finish the race?” I asked.
“Last year, about half had to drop out. This year, it’s already worse than that because of the heat.”
“Ouch. Glad I’m sitting in an air conditioned mansion.” I took a long sip of my margarita to emphasize the point.
Andrew grinned. “Cheers to that.” He took a gulp of his own, put down the glass, and then pulled out a notepad covered with scribbles.
“What is that? A book report?”
“I took some notes,” he said defensively. “I wanted to give your book the seriousness it deserved.”
“Well now I feel bad. I kept all my opinions in my head.”
“I like to write things down. You should see the notes I keep on all the people Pierce meets with.”
“Who goes first?” I asked.
Andrew scratched his chin, then said, “Guess a number between one and ten.”
After a moment, I said, “Seven.”
Andrew blinked. “Shit. I forgot to think of a number.”
Laughing, I said, “You should have written one down. I’ll go first.”
He put his notepad down on the table and leaned back into the couch cushions with his drink. “Okay, let’s hear it. Don’t hold anything back.”
“I actually liked it!” I admitted. “Red Storm Rising wasn’t like anything I’ve ever read before, but it was pretty good. There was lots of action. It was fast-paced; I can see why you like it. The parts about sabotaging oil production felt relevant even today. I probably wouldn’t read anything else by Tom Clancy, but I’m glad I tried this one.”
Andrew looked shocked. “You don’t have any criticisms?”
“Um. It was kind of silly how the Soviets attacked Iceland first. That didn’t make any sense to me.”
“Because it gave the Soviet Union control of the GIUK gap,” Andrew explained. “That’s the waterway between Greenland, Iceland, and the UK.”
“Okay,” I said, “but that still seems irrelevant. The USSR didn’t have a strong Navy. I looked it up: at their height, the Russian navy was less than half the size of the American navy. We had a lot more aircraft carriers, too, which is what really matters. At least, according to what I read online.”
Andrew smiled and spread his hands. “I guess that’s why it’s fiction. They took some liberties. Any other complaints?”
