Page 12 of Total Exposure

Jordan eyes me, waiting to see if I’ll take that first comment any further, and decides I won’t—and he’s right. Because after the morning I’ve had, I can’t think of a single reason I need to rehash the past too. “She was famous once upon a time.”

“Child prodigy,” I say slowly, reading her bio at the same time. “Yeah, I remember this chick. She was all over the TV when she was a kid.”

“Right. And then she wasn’t. It’s your job to watch her. That’s it. Just watch her. You got it?”

“Watch her do what?” I ask, flipping through the pictures.

“Just… everything. Nothing specific.”

“Why am I watching her? Someone after her or something?”

“You don’t need to know why. You just need to take that money, buy the fucking equipment, go to that address, put up the fucking cameras, and then when she gets there, you watch her.”

“Where’s the home base?” I ask, looking at the blueprint of the house, trying to wrap my head around why he’s asking me to do this shit.

“In the basement. There’s a lock on the door and a separate entrance that leads to a gate. You do not ride that fucking bike to this job, you got me? She’ll hear you and the whole fucking point of this is that she never hears you. OK?”

“So I’m spying on her and she doesn’t know it?” My laugh is loud. Because… “That’s some creepy shit, dude.”

Jordan sucks in a breath of air. It’s cautious, that inhale. It’s long too. And it’s filled with all the things that we left unsaid between us after college. “She knows,” Jordan finally says. Carefully. Like he’s picking his way through a minefield. “Just… just fucking do what I tell you. You’ve got a week to get set up and then a few weeks of surveillance, tops. Then I’ll pay you.”

“I don’t need the money, asshole. You know that’s not why I’m here.”

I hear the unasked question. He hears it too. Then why are you here?

But he knows why.

“I’ll pay you anyway,” Jordan says, ignoring what wasn’t said. And then his tone softens. “You just need to slow down, man. I mean it. You can’t live like this much longer. It’s gonna catch up with you.”

“I don’t have a car,” I say, changing the subject back to business as I stuff the paperwork back into the envelope. “Hence the fucking leathers and the winter ride.”

He looks at me. Not the way he has been, or the way he used to, but something different. “Why are you such a fuckup?” he finally says. But that’s not the question he’s asking. What he’s really asking is, What happened to you?

I shrug. “Just natural talent, I guess.”

He goes to his desk drawer, finds a set of keys, and throws them to me. I catch them one-handed. “Take mine. Leave your bike here. I’ll ride it home and keep it for you.”

“Home, huh?” I ask, looking down at the handwriting on the front of the envelope. “Where’s home these days?”

“Same place.”

I look up at him. “Really?”

He nods, then shrugs. “I like it there, what can I say?”

“Yeah,” I whisper. “I used to like it there too.”

His eyes lock with mine. “I’m sorry, OK?”

I shrug. “This car might make up for it,” I say, tossing the keys of his BMW up and down in my palm.

“Don’t crash my fucking car,” he starts.

“Crash?” I snort, cutting him off, playing down the moment where we said absolutely nothing and everything all at the same time. I don’t know what I’m doing here, but the feelings in this room make me want to get the fuck out and stay the fuck put at the same time. “I’m not gonna crash shit. Where is it?”

“Over in the 16th and Lawrence parking garage. Level one. Space sixteen. Just click the alarm and you’ll find it.”

I have a million things to say before I leave and none of them sound right.