RETRACE

by Ehrlich, Sigal

  “I heard you turned down The Russian… again.” Jake sends his arm forward, straight, landing a dart in the very center of the red pierced dot. “It’s a shitload of money…” he mutters, admiring his precise hit. “And you know he doesn’t like hearing no.”

  I take a sip of my water, studying the target board from a distance. “I know,” I say.

  Jake pivots to look at me. “What’s come over you, man?”

  I pull the darts from the board.

  “Nothing,” I say low with my back to him, launching a dart at the target.

  “Reeves.” His voice is harsh, but even without looking directly at him I know his eyes hold concern.

  “I don’t know,” I relinquish. “The shit with Katie, and… the usual.” I finally turn to look at him with a tapered stare. “It will be the three year anniversary in a few days.” Jake’s hard face breaks for a moment. He composes fast enough that an untrained eye wouldn’t have even noticed. The pain, however, stays on his face in the form of a clenched jaw muscle. Jake and I don’t share a long history, but the one we do share is by far more intimate than any extended one.

  “There have been some rumours,” he says under his breath, nonetheless it still reaches me and it’s enough to draw my attention.

  “What rumours?” I ask solemnly. He snaps out of a short reverie and just shakes his head. “Which rumours, Jake?” My voice is as cold as the expression my face has taken. “Is it about A.Z?”

  “Leave it.” His eyes mirror mine, the determination they transmit certainly backs his words. It was just a slip up, he is not about to elaborate. I know he won’t tell me anything, whatever he has, for the sole purpose of keeping me safe. I break our short stare down, and grab a stamp from the table.

  “I’m going to work.” I slam the door shut, leaving his office. I pass by the toilets and splash cold water on my face. I dry myself with a raspy paper towel and take a deep breath. I need to calm my inner thunderstorm down before going outside. In this state, the simplest word out of place and I’ll turn into the terminator himself. Still propped with one hand on the sink, I survey my reflection in the mirror as I run the other over my few days growth of stubble. Shutting my eyes tight, I take another deep breath that does shit to calm me and push the door open with a flat hand.

  Ted, a The Thing double, slaps my back in greeting as I take his place at the stool in front of the main door to Jake’s. Lately I’ve been taking more shifts at the bar when I’m not on a job. It’s not that I need the money, the cash I make here is a joke compared to my real job, but I need the distraction. I don’t do laid back. Laid back equals enough time to walk down the deepest tunnels of my mind. I’d rather walk through a nuclear explosion than go there.

  Time passes as I stamp wrists, give each individual a short, thorough detection. The flow of patrons is slow but steady, just the right pace to keep me busy. The BS the bartenders, Dan and Eileen, give one another keeps me entertained as I listen to it through our linked earpieces. Jake has a state of the art internal network communication system we all, including boss man himself, wear while working.

  I tap my earpiece and say, “Eileen, give the guy a break, throw him a bone. He is about to drown in his own drool. That tight shirt is cruel, babe. Cruel.”

  “Reeves, the only one I’m willing to throw more than a bone to is you,” she says in a forced slutty voice. I chuckle in response.

  “Don’t distract the bouncer,” Jake’s voice comes over the electronic line. “I need him thinking with his upper head.”

  “Gottcha, boss.”

  “Thanks for trying, dude,” Dan adds his share.

  “Anytime.” I release the button that allows them to hear me and reach for the cold bottled water under my chair. Coming up, I’m facing a group of people but see only one. A smug curve pulls up at the edge of my lips as I acknowledge her, thinking how thoroughly I acknowledged her last night while stroking myself in the shower. Just fantasizing about her was better than actually bagging the tails I’ve had lately.

  She is lightly flushed. I’m not sure if it’s the evening chilled air, or a reaction to seeing me again. Hoping it’s the latter. She is as beautiful as the last time I had the pleasure of seeing her, and what a pleasure it was. An absurd thought of whether either of the guys is someone she’s seeing jolts to my head as I stamp the wrists of the members of her little group. When I take her wrist in my hand, I lightly press with my thumb on the side, where her pulse is, and it’s quickened. I slowly lift my eyes from her delicate wrist to align them with hers.

  “We meet again, Nia,” I say in a low voice. Though we’ve met already an abundance of times more, in my head, were she was also flushed, albeit enthusiastically screaming my name.

  “We meet again, G.I. Joe.”

  My brows flash up and I cock my head. Her lips stretch into a smile, a mighty, fucking stunning one. She pulls her hand back, pats my chest once with that smile intact and disappears behind the heavy, black metal door. I look over my shoulder at her leaving back and can’t help the stretch my own lips take. If she only knew how close she’d hit… This will be the second time she manages to elevate my mood, in person, and this time she has her clothes on.

  I wait the sufficient amount of time one would take to get settled and order a drink before pressing the button on my earpiece, “Dude, straight dark hair, cream sweater, killer bod, with a group, what is she drinking?”

  “Oh, wow. Wow!” Eileen exclaims. “Mr. I just replaced my bed, there wasn’t enough space left on the bedpost, shows genuine interest in someone? We are at what she drinks, Reeves? I’m jealous!”

  My fellow bar colleagues are familiar with my theory of alcohol and women, the rarer the drink, the rarer the lady. They also know, full well, that it’s about once every blue moon that I actually care to know what someone drinks.

  “Should we tell him?” Eileen teases.

  “Oh, you want to hear this one, bro.” Dan says, and my lips lift a degree. “Ready…?”

  “Shoot.”

  “Talisker, neat.”

  Damn, but somehow I knew it would be something along this line. Classy, lots of spice, fresh, smooth, and wild. She’s a living, breathing embodiment of my dream girl. Refined, perfect body, clean - stunning face, great taste in Scotch. Only I don’t chase these kind of dreams anymore…

  “I gotta check this one out. What table?” Jake asks. There’s a collective snort from both my co-workers at the bar.

  “Eight, boss,” Eileen sings.

  “Fuck you, Jake,” I say, amused.

  My attention is flung to a higher than the empire state group of trouble that’s making its way to where I sit. I stand up to “greet” them, walling their path to the bar.

  “Gentleman, we are at full capacity,” I say in a voice that tells them it won’t be a smart move to argue with me.

  “Hey Mr. Tough Guy, we won’t take long.” A guy that smells worse than a distillery stands in my face. I roll my eyes. There’s always one idiot to start the festivities. I take half a step back and cross my arms over my chest. “Like I said, I’m sorry, but we are at full capacity tonight.”

  “Fuck you, pussy,” a relatively built guy that I wouldn’t peg as intoxicated as the rest says while pushing my chest as though bumping into a wall. Before he can even say, “I’m a fucktwad,” I have him in a tight grip, holding his hand backward. I bring my free hand to his throat, pressing just enough to have him gasp for air, but not enough to cause any damage. His friends eye me hesitantly.

  “I release you, and you and your friends will turn around and quietly leave, or I’ll have to show you what happens if I press harder.” And to give him a prelude of the joy I can bring him, I press just a bit harder. He lets out choking stutters as I shove him forward. He wobbles for a few steps and quickly balances while gasping. He sends my way a look coated with poison. I nod at them.

  “Have a lovely evening, gentlemen.”

  “Hey Reeves, I think I’m going for her.�
�� Jake’s comment brings me back to our earlier conversation. I plop back onto the stool. “Miss Talisker is damn hot.”

  I tug the button and speak, “we all know you take pride in your masculinity, Jake. But you’re still a pussy. Don’t let me get back there and kick your ass.” I smile at Jake’s strained chuckle. My smile swiftly dissolves as I notice a very familiar angelic blonde heading my way. I press the earpiece again, “Jake, get someone to cover for me.”

  Chapter 6

  Nia

  By the fourth time, Bill, Billy, blargh, or whatever his name is, the guy that’s been inching my way, almost pushes me off the chair, I jump up to stand. When he asks me if I’d like to dance, I first take a step back where we don’t have to exchange oxygen anymore and politely refuse the tempting offer. What can I say, I’m not the biggest fan of the intoxicated, conceited, and reproducing Horny Trinity.

  “Refill anyone?” I ask.

  “We can have the waitress bring us refills,” says Toni, a wide shouldered brunette with the most delicate voice. She is Alex’s roommate, so I’ve been told. I wonder if it’s only a room sharing situation between them, given Alex’s constant small gestures toward her “roomie.”

  “I’m going anyway, I need to stretch my legs.” I add a thin smile to my words, sending a stay-back warning glare to the guy that eyes me as if he is about to dry hump my leg.

  “Don’t take long,” says Mr. Horny, sending me what I believe he might think is his best production of a sexy smile. I inwardly shudder.

  As I make my way through a maze of tables toward the bar, a handsome, hard-jawed guy, clad in a badass leather Jacket, rewards me with a smile after a blatant top to toe scan. He sends his hand to a black device that’s peeping from his ear and says something, ending it with a devilish grin. He throws his head back laughing next. Not a beat passes and his demeanour turns severe. I just shrug and move on.

  Some alone time is needed, I think to myself as I take a seat on a stool by the bar. I send my original table a peek, waiting to be served. They are a bunch of cool people. Alex, Toni, J.D., who’s apparently a semi-famous comics illustrator, and Paul, which took me a few moments to make sense of his connection to the artsy gang. With him being the ultimate nerdy programmer type, by look and nature. Nonetheless, he somehow just fits in. I like him, Paul, he is quiet and polite and intriguingly clever. He is one of those guys who just knows everything, but shows it in a humble way. My eyes jolt back once Sir Creepy catches my stare.

  I tap my fingers on the hard surface. A disturbing thought nestles in my mind. I might have totally sent to hell the opportunity I’ve been given at the dance studio. The look in Mrs. Perry’s eyes plays in my head and I cringe. I might have taken it a bit too far, letting loose like that in front of the girls and the parents. My chest presses just enough to signal for my gut to clench. Not only do I really want the job, I’m counting on it. I can’t afford losing it. I have some money set aside for emergencies, but that’s exactly what it is, emergency dough. Especially with the indulgent apartment I’ve rented. The only thing I swore I wouldn’t cut back on, and I didn’t. God, I’m so screwed if I let this job slip through my fingers.

  “Another Talisker?” asks the attractive blonde server with the impressive showcase under her tight black tee. I frown, wasn’t the other bartender serving me before? How would she know what I ordered? She tilts her head to the side, gifting me with an urging smile.

  “Um, no thanks. Just ice water, please.” She nods. I can’t unglue my stare from the word Jake’s splattered between the two small peaks her nipples form under the tight shirt. Guess she’d need a Brinks truck to take her tips home. Sliding my drink toward me, Spiky runs her eyes quite openly over me, smiles a little secretive smile, and shifts her stare to the other side of the bar. Mine follow suit. Reaching the point her attention was drawn to, my eyes land on my G.I. Joe. “My…” I inwardly roll my eyes.

  I get the chance to thoroughly study him as I watch him talk to a real life Tinkerbell. Reeves is handsome in a non-beautiful way. Beautiful constitutes delicacy and flawlessness, even features, but he got none of that. He is attractive in a raw, somewhat fierce, masculine kind of way. Hard, square jaw, sharp planes, high, bristled cheekbones, but it’s his smouldering eyes that hold the warning, sexy vibe he exudes. I gaze at them both; his companion appears ridiculously fragile with him towering more than a head above her. It seems as if he might be scolding her. His eyes, some indistinct cyan shade I hadn’t gotten the chance to validate yet, glare at her with a rare blend of irritation and gentleness. She nods, hugging herself, gently rocking back and forth on her pink Mary Jane’s while returning his pointed stare. Her soft, golden locks sway, fluttering the middle of her white camisole as she nods again.

  The edginess disappears from his tense stare. He runs a hand over his lightly scruffy cheek, ending the rub on his dark buzzed hair. He tells her something, crossing his arms over his chest, causing his curved bicep to bloat proudly. He moves his black jean and heavy boot-clad leg to rest on the foot ring of one of the stools and speaks again to the spectacle of delicate prettiness before him. Her lips twist, and her eyes downcast in response. I’m too far to precisely zero in on her eyes, but from where I sit they seem to have turned glossy. A bolt of alarm crosses his face and he inches to envelope her in his arms. Her petite figure is swallowed in his embrace. He crouches for his chin to rest on the crown of her head and closes his eyes. Something streaks through me, a sudden jolt of jealousy which at first I can’t make any sense of. I take a sip of my water and look at them out of the corner of my eyes. At second glance I realize where the envy came from, it’s the sense of protectiveness and care his hug emits that causes my heart to tug. I’d do anything to feel secured again, to allow someone to make me feel this way.

  But I know it’s not in the stars for me. I gave up on that. Nothing can take away the pain I’ve been harboring, and the rooted guilt I nurture. I inhale deeply, shake away the thoughts that cloud my mind, and signal to the bartender for another drink. Scotch this time.

  I place the bulky goblet on the table I left earlier, returning the smiles that greet my return. Luckily my persistent suitor found another victim with whom he now occupies the dance floor and I get a chance to enjoy a light conversation with J.D. and Paul.

  Chapter 7

  Reeves

  I run by a 7-Eleven for eggs and a gallon of O.J., before getting to the new apartment to wait for the movers, knowing full well how in about an hour my stomach will cause riots if I don’t eat a sufficient amount of food. I maintain my body like the oiled machine that it is. I treat sport like a religion, training 6 days a week. Healthy food is a subsidiary creed. Keeping in shape is a prerequisite in my line of work, together with alertness and strength. I can’t let myself slip in either of them.

  Having about twenty minutes before the moving bedlam starts, I turn to make breakfast. While the six egg omelet sizzles in a pan, I down half a gallon of O.J. and read the news online. The little talk I had with Katie yesterday intrudes my news skimming. I halt and look out the window. It feels like a rock the size of the moon has been lifted off my chest after ironing out our misunderstanding. I was so glad she agreed with my resolve on the subject that we could never have anything physical between us. She swore it was a one-time mistake on her part and she’d never pull something like that again. Even if hell froze over I wouldn’t look at Katie any other way but as family, a little sister. I don’t know what came over her the other day, but I sure hope it would never happen again.

  My thoughts wander to the keen spectator we had last night.

  Nia.

  She didn’t notice me observing her for a while after Katie and her friends hit the dance floor. I was leaning on the wall behind the bar, behind my laboring colleagues, watching her. There’s something about her eyes, I couldn’t get my eyes off her. My lips twitch at the corner remembering Dan’s smirk when I poured myself a finger of Talisker once I’d decided I was done working for
the night. He shook his head at me with a shit eating grin.

  “You don’t want to pull any crap with me tonight,” I told him above the rim of the glass.

  “That I know,” he said. “I saw you talking to Katie…”

  I narrowed my eyes at him, stressing the fact that he shouldn’t even imply anything about Katie and me.

  He just sighed in surrender and murmured, “I just wish that for once you weren’t as blind as you are when she is concerned.” Well, that he got downright straight, when it comes to her I’m blind, and I will without a doubt ever be. No matter what Katie pulls out of her hat, I’d always be there for her, day or night.

  When the movers finally spread into several rooms and start getting the apartment in shape, I get a message that makes my blood freeze in my veins on the spot.

  Jake: Hunter is here, he wants to see you.

  7.5 minutes is the exact amount of time it takes me to show up at Jake’s office.

  ~~~

  “Take a seat Agent Mitchell.” No one has called me that for a while, at least not since I left the bureau. But then again I wouldn’t expect any less from the Big Kahuna. Although it’s been a while, almost three years, since I’ve been under his command. I study him for a long moment, reverentially, the man was, and still is, a mortal god.

  “I prefer standing,” I answer sharply. Jake eyes me with warning. The clean-cut, elder gentleman with the piercing blue eyes and a suit sitting in Jake’s ragged chair, curtly gestures at the chair before him.

  “Please sit,” he deadpans and I follow his request.

  “How are you doing?” He asks, his voice heavy with years of smoke trailing through his vocal cords. I sigh, not sure what to tell him. This man knows me almost better than I know myself, whatever I choose to say should be nothing but truth.

  “Better,” I say, impassive.

  “I read the last report on you. You quit therapy,” he states. His voice wears a pinch of disappointment. I wince. He is the last person I’d ever want to disappoint. We trade pointed stares for an additional moment. “I’ll cut to the chase,” he says and I can feel Jake’s eyes assessing my reaction. “There’s a reliable tip on A.Z.’s recent activity.”