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Roey: I already booked the tickets. Get your ass here.
Fuck!
We can’t, I wanna say. We just got back, I want to argue. I have plans with Lu.
But, oh, yes, we can, and we do fly to Florida in the afternoon without me even getting a chance to say goodbye to Lu.
I feel like I’m living a double life. Some of my clothes are at Goldsling Towers. Some at Sheepshead Bay. And the rest are in California. That’s three lives, actually.
Lu: What time are you gonna be home tonight? Wanna have dinner? I’ll cook))
Fuck! Out of all days… I want to smash my phone against the wall in frustration.
Me: I’m heading to Florida, Lu. It’s an unexpected work trip I just found out about. Sorry…
She doesn’t respond, and my heart sinks.
I’m an asshole.
But when we land at the West Palm Beach airport, my phone dings with a message.
Lu: When are you coming back?
Me: Should be back in a week.
Me: Dinner then? Please?
I send a gif with puppy eyes and hold my breath, waiting for a reply.
Lu: Do I need to have you sign another contract to make sure you don’t flake on me?
I laugh, and Roey cocks his head at me, killing my smile.
Our hotel room feels like a prison cell. But so does everything else without Lu lately.
Four more guys from Roey’s temporary team meet us there. Roey opens his computer as we are about to go over our target.
This time it’s a rising R&B star who broke the charts with his new album yet has a hefty debt with the Cubans in Miami and successfully ditches them.
“With the popularity came a bodyguard escort of six people,” Roey explains, showing me the portfolio of the guy and his entourage. “A little excessive, but so is his paranoia.”
I always wondered why people who have money often don’t pay their debts until they get fucked.
Apparently, the Cubans don’t want to make too much noise, and, turns out, that’s the only way they deal with debtors.
So here we are, tracking the R&B star to Miami and about to execute the plan of—
“Very quiet and sophisticated interception,” Roey explains. “The most important part of it relies on you, Jace. As per Miller’s intel, the guy is going to a party in a mansion in Southwest Ranches, about fifteen miles northwest of Miami. It’s a quieter area, and that’s where we are doing a stakeout, on a deserted stretch two miles east of the mansion. Your part, Jace? You’ll need to incapacitate four escort vehicles within twenty seconds. The vehicle our guy is in will be further intercepted by us. We get the guy, we deliver him to the client, and that’s it. It should be a swift clean job.” Roey studies me for a moment. “That is if you execute the precise shots at the car tires.”
“Got it.” I nod.
“That means all your focus has to be on those shots.”
“Got it, Roey.”
“Allyour focus.”
What the fuck is he staring at me like that for? Like I’m about to fail.
