“Sounds fun. I can’t wait to see it.”
“Yeah, it’s my favorite of the clubs.”
“Even over the BDSM ones?”
How did he answer this? He didn’t want to lie, but he also wasn’t sure about discussing his place in the kink community. “I love all our clubs, but I don’t play at them. It blurs too many lines for me if I work and play in the same space.”
He watched her play with the end of her braid for a moment, then let it go as if she realized it was a tell she was thinking hard.
Rather than let her dwell on it too long, he changed the subject. “Elysium is different than anything else I’ve ever seen or heard about. How Tripoli ever came up with the idea is beyond me because I know I’m not that creative. It has a huge membership base. We don’t want them to be bored, so we’re constantly reinventing what we have there. For example, every few weeks, we switch up the walls so they still have the fun of getting lost and whatnot.
“Anyway, a few months back, I was watching from above, as usual, and I caught a couple on surveillance. One of the fabricated walls didn’t get latched into the floor properly, and they discovered they could swing it the opposite direction. Created themselves a little ‘public-private’ alcove.
“We’re really tight on our security—much of that is motivated by what happened at The Library with Tilly. Given my own personal kinks, I’m definitely not one to begrudge them their harmless semipublic exhibitionism. Honestly, as well as they hid themselves, no one would have seen anything, and they weren’thurting anyone. No different than a couple hooking up in a bar restroom, I guess, but we aren’t licensed for that sort of thing in San Antonio. And I wanted to make sure she wasn’t being taken advantage of if she’d imbibed too much. By the way she was giggling and stumbling around prior, the woman had clearly had a few drinks.
“So, I went down and did my due diligence. Talked to them through the wall. But before I did that, some noises were coming from within that little alcove they’d created that were… well, let’s just say it sounded a lot like your soup reaction.”
“All righty, then” was all she said.
Several minutes passed. He realized that this time here with her was different. They were alone in a small space where no one could look over their shoulder to see how they were doing. No bumpy roads to jostle them around. Yes, they were still on the run, but the little apartment gave them the illusion of safety that the truck did not.
She seemed to be feeling it as well because she gently rolled over to her other side. His arm still pillowed her head, but one of her hands rested on his chest, and her top knee slightly overlaid his.
He didn’t want to move. He told himself it was because he didn’t want to draw attention to where she’d positioned herself, just in case it was subconscious. But the truth was, he just didn’t want her to stop touching him.
The arm under her head curled slightly so his fingers could touch her hair, and he absentmindedly wound a tendril around his finger, then unwound it. Still slightly damp from her shower, it smelled flowery, like the shampoo she’d used. “Can I ask you a question?”
“I think you just did.”
“Ha ha,” he quipped. “That joke is older than my repertoire.”
“Ask away, Mr. Dad Joke.”
“Pfft. You think they’re hilarious, and you know it.” His fingers continued to play with her hair. “But seriously. I know you were recruited in college, but what made you accept the CIA’s job offer?”
She was silent for a long time. Her eyes studied the material of his shirt, where her fingers alternately plucked and smoothed it. He could tell she’d gone somewhere deep inside her head. While he wouldn’t force her to talk about it, it didn’t take a genius to understand that this choice had forever changed her life. Whatever had motivated her might well be as bad as what she’d endured as an operative.
When she finally spoke, the room was dark, the only light coming from a weak ceiling light a few feet down the balcony walkway. “For five years, I was an only child. My parents wanted a large family, but my mother struggled to get pregnant a second time. When she finally did, both my parents were ecstatic. Even I was thrilled I was going to have a little brother or sister.
“Unfortunately, the pregnancy became fraught with medical issues, to the point my mother was bedridden for most of it. She convinced herself the baby would die before she gave birth, and she obsessed over its arrival. Her worry spread to my father, and all their energy went into making sure she and the baby were healthy. Their daughter became an afterthought.”
Not the first time he’d heard this type of story. Concern for the impending child often left others born previously to feel neglected.
“When Joey arrived, all that concern transferred to surviving every day, even though he was as healthy as could be. My mother’s paranoia knew no bounds, and my father did whatever was necessary to reassure her. From the day he was born, he was the favorite child in every way. Their love for him consumed them, and that left very little for me.”
There was no bitterness in her response, only fact.
“So while he became the center of their world, the expectation was that he would be the center of mine as well. When we were little, and he was naughty, whatever he did, I was blamed for it. They never questioned what he told them. If he got hurt, it was my fault because I wasn’t paying attention. If I got something and he didn’t, I was forced to give it up for him. It didn't matter what it was, even for something like receiving an invitation to another little girl’s birthday party. The fact that I wanted to go despite my brother not being invited meant I was being selfish. And because I was too young to know differently, I believed what they said.
“It got worse as we got older. When he had homework he didn’t do, I was expected to complete it so he wouldn’t get in trouble. Then it was my fault when he got bad grades because I didn’t help him learn the material. If he needed to go somewhere, I was expected to drop everything, no matter how important it was, and take him.”
So far, nothing she’d said warranted joining an international spy organization, but he sensed the worst was yet to come. “That had to be frustrating.”
“Yes, it was. I bailed him out of more trouble, gave up more of my personal time, and basically was his real parent. Not that he listened to me any better than our actual parents, but the fact remains. I was essentially the mom and dad in one.
“By the time I got through my undergrad program in college, I’d had enough. I set down simple rules. If they called while I was working or in class, I wouldn’t answer the phone. I love my parents, despite their neglect. I loved my brother.”
Her voice cracked, and it wasn’t lost on him that she spoke of him in the past tense. Now he knew something bad was coming, and there was really only one possible conclusion for how her life got on this track.
