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“Youdohate Russians.“ I casually remarked.
“Aye, I do.” Eoghan agreed with a smile. “But if this woman is worth it… then it’s only a matter of time before you bring her over for dinner, and take your rightful place.”
I laughed. Eoghan had a one track mind. He wouldn’t rest until his vision of us ruling Four Green Enterprises was a reality. The ‘family business’ needed family leads.
His voice became serious as he puffed on his cigar.
“I hope she’s worth it, cousin,” he finally said. “Because you’re asking for a world of trouble. Is it worth it for a lay?”
I suppressed the need to punch his face. Through gritted teeth, I said, “It’s not like that.”
“Mark my words,” Eoghan said, pointing at me with his cigar, “A woman can change the world as you know it.”
Was he talking about my woman? Or our uncle’s widow, who hid upstairs? Or did he mean his wife?
Chapter 11
Rose - Los Angeles
TheSantaMonicapierwas full of skaters, joggers and runners. Kids with floppy hats sat happily in strollers, slathered with white sunscreen. Fat seagulls circled above. The Pier’s large Ferris wheel turned lazily in the afternoon sun.
People who lived on the beach are a very different breed from the rest of the world.
They were definitely different from me and Brett, who had us on a grueling schedule. In a matter of days, I learned how to shoot everything from a Ruger LCP to an M240B machine gun, courtesy of some friend who let us get our hands on them while at Camp Roberts, an old Army base.
When we got home, he drilled me on how to meditate, to calm my breathing, and school my features. Then he’d make me fight that way.
“Relax your face,” he’d tell me, his fists up in nothing but his knuckle wraps. “Watch the tension in the edge of your eyes.”
He’d punch, bob, and weave. I’d have to avoid his blows without letting my face show strain.
“Relax your mouth,” he kept telling me. “Pretend your mouth and eyes are numb. Disconnect them from what’s happening in your head and heart.”
Then, he made me work on my voice. I learned how to sound like an airhead, or to mimic the voices of news anchors, until I could copy accents from a single hearing.
“I’m condensing years of tradecraft into a few days, kiddo,” he told me. “The CIA training takes 18 months. I’m trying to get it down to a matter of days.”
“Sounds impossible.”
“Only if you’re shitty at it.” He gave me a challenging smile.
That was his way. If I didn’t respond with verve, he’d neg me with a challenge, or a story of someone who may have done it better, faster, sooner… He had me dialed in pretty tight.
“We’re making you the best secret agent that ever lived!” he yelled at me when I needed to do one more pull up, one more muscle up, one more lap, one moreanything.
I was exhausted, both mentally and emotionally, so when he took me to brunch on the Santa Monica Pier, I relished the opportunity. Brett had a baseball cap with the Lakers logo pulled low over his eyes, and a pair of aviators that obscured his face. He had a popped collar polo, and hunched in on himself, trying to stay out of people’s sight.
“Why are you acting weird?” I asked, peering at him from around the white vase centerpiece between us. Sad little yellow flowers popped out the top.
“Because,” he sighed. “They’ve seen me before, and I don’t want them to notice me.”
“Who has seen you before?”
“Them.” He nodded to the beach where two blondes with deep tans were picking up their surfboards. It was a man and a woman. They were almost the same height, with the same haircut, but their blue swim clothes gave away their gender. He had Hawaiian flowers on his board shorts. She had board shorts too, but they were smaller and feminine, with a similar pattern. Her bikini top was small, flattening her modest chest.
They looked out at the waves and laughed. I think they were siblings. Their faces were so similar.
I was jealous. I didn’t have siblings and always wanted them, though.
