I looked at TL. “Is everything okay?”
He moved in front of me, blocking my view of her. “What do you need?”
“Where’s Coach Luke?”
“He went into town. What do you need?”
Obviously, TL and Nalani were having a personal issue, and he didn’t want me asking about it. And frankly, it was none of my business. But . . . what was wrong with them?
TL lifted his brows.
“Sorry.” I pointed down the hall to where Beaker stood. “We’re going to go get some sodas. Just wanted to see if you wanted anything.”
“I’m fine.”
With a nod, I turned.
“Ana?”
I turned back.
“Thank you for asking.”
I smiled a little. “You’re welcome.”
TL shut the door, and I trotted back to Beaker. We rode the elevator and headed down the long hall toward the back of the hotel where the vending machines were.
Beaker pushed open the door that led into the vending area and came to an abrupt stop. A blond guy stood at the snack machine, eyeing the selections. He had sun-dried, straight hair to his shoulders and was dressed in board shorts, a T-shirt, and flip flops. ‘Surfer dude’ popped into my mind first.
He looked up, and surprise lit his blue eyes. “Hey.”
Beaker didn’t respond, and so I answered back. “Hey.”
He stepped forward and extended his hand. “I’m CJ.” He nodded to Beaker. “I met Tiffany earlier today.”
I stepped into the small room and shook his hand. “Ana.”
CJ stood shorter than me, but definitely taller than Beaker. I’d say five feet eight. One side of his mouth lifted in a half smile, and instantly I recognized what the twins saw in him.
He turned his attention to Beaker. “How’s it going?”
With a little nod, she glanced away. How cute. Who would’ve thought she’d be so shy?
“Um . . .” He started and then stopped. “Um, I was just heading to a beach party. My friends are already there. You wanna come?”
Beaker blushed. Actually blushed. “No, thanks.”
CJ’s brow twitched, and I could tell he was really bummed she’d turned him down. He cut his eyes to me. “You can come, too.”
Poor guy. He was obviously hoping my agreement would persuade Beaker. “Thanks.” I smiled to let him know I really meant it. “I’m tired. It’s been a long day.”
He shifted uncomfortably. “Well, okay then.” He went back to the machine, quickly made his selection, and snatched up his chips. “See you all around.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said as he pushed through the door.
“You, too,” he returned.
I moved over to the soda machine and fed in a dollar bill. “You could have gone with him if you wanted. You know that, right?”
Beaker shrugged.
I selected two diet orange drinks for the twins. “I mean, just because we’re here on other business,” I whispered in case anyone might be listening, “doesn’t mean you can’t go out.”
She shrugged.
I fed another dollar in. “How do you think Wirenut met Cat?”
She shrugged.
I selected a regular cola for me. “Which do you want?”
She shrugged.
Sighing, I pressed regular for her, too. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”
“Nothing,” she grumbled. “I’m just not used to this, that’s all.”
“Used to what?”
Beaker flung her hand in the air. “This.”
“This what?”
“Never mind.” She reached past me, grabbed two of the drinks from the vending machine, and tucked them in her jacket pockets. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Understand what?” Honestly, I had no idea what she was talking about.
Beaker shoved through the door and strode off.
Grabbing the two remaining drinks, I followed after her. “What’s wrong with you?”
She shouldered open an exit door that led out near the hotel pool area and beach. “Just leave me alone. Go be . . . perfect or gorgeous or something.”
Her gruff words didn’t match her hunched shoulders. She needed some serious lightening up.
“Perfect? Are you serious?” I laughed, stepping through the exit door and into the night. “Did you just meet me? Come on. I trip over my own feet. I drop food on my clothes. I stumble over my words. I can barely carry on a conversation unless it deals with binary numbers and algorithms. And, oh yeah, I’m a social reject.”
She marched off down a mulched path that led to the beach. “Whatever. You have the perfect looks and the perfect boyfriend. And no one’s ever made fun of you.”
“Oh, please. That’s all anyone ever did back in Iowa. Everyone in the dorms thought I was weird.” I glanced around the dimly lit path, assuring we were alone. “Being a Specialist is the first time I’ve ever felt somewhat normal.”
Beaker turned around. “People thought you were weird?”
“How many girls do you know with a one-hundred-ninety-one IQ who spends her days buried in her own brain?”
“Just you.”
“See?”
Beaker studied me for a couple of long seconds. “I guess we’re both weird in our own weird way.”
I smiled. “Seems like it.”
Thoughtfully, she gazed through the night toward the beach. I put my drinks down on a lounge chair and dried my hands on my shirt. “So are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”
Beaker heaved a heavy sigh. “Don’t laugh, okay?”
I held up my hands.
“I’ve never been on a date before. I’ve never had such a cute, normal guy like me. And I’m more than freaked about it because”—she motioned to her hair and clothes—“this isn’t me.”
I had the unnerving urge to hug her. Underneath all her gruffness, Beaker had a soft, sweet, insecure side. But I knew if I got gushy, touchy-feely, she’d push me away.
Instead, I shrugged. “I’ve never been on a date either.”
She blinked. “David?”
I shook my head. “Nope. It’s definitely on my list of things to do, though.”
That earned a small laugh.
I took a step toward her. “Don’t worry about CJ. And smile the next time you see him. It won’t kill you.” Listen to me giving relationship advice. “Something tells me he wouldn’t care if you were Goth or not.”
“Really?”
“Really. Come to think of it, I miss your Goth uniqueness. I don’t like you looking like everyone else.”
Beaker’s lips twitched.
Playfully, I shoved her shoulder. “You’re not so mean after all.”
“Yeah, I am,” she disagreed with a slight smile.
In that second it occurred to me her harshness was a wall to keep everyone at a distance. Put there because of the way she’d been treated over the years. In fact, I could’ve easily developed the same wall. Who would have thought Beaker and I were so emotionally similar?
I gave my head a quick shake, snapping out of my retrospective moment. Sometimes I could be quite the psychoanalyst.
My phone buzzed, and I checked the display. “It’s David!”
Beaker snatched my drinks off the lounge chair and headed back up the path. “See ya back in the room.”
“Okay.” I pressed the Talk button on my phone.
“Hi,” I greeted him with a huge grin, even though he couldn’t see it.
“Hi, back.”
His voice made my insides pure goosh.
“Where are you?” he asked.
I meandered down the path. “Heading toward the beach.”
“What’s at the beach? Another bonfire rally?”
“No. Beaker and I were having a private talk.”
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” I blew out a breath. “No. I mean, yeah, everything’s okay with me and Beaker. But, no, not with me. Or, I don’
t know.” All the mistakes I’d made on this mission came rushing at me, and I sighed in pure frustration. “David, I’ve really screwed up.”
"What do you mean?”
“With you,” I answered. “With this mission.”
“Listen, as far as everything that happened back at the ranch between you and me? I don’t want to think about it anymore. It’s over with. We’re fine. Can we do that? I know your emotions are running high over all this, and I understand that.”
I made it to the beach and sat down in the sand. “My connection to this mission and my emotions are making me stupid.”
“That’s why I called. I know about everything that’s happened. TL and I talk numerous times a day.”
I stared up at the half moon. Great. Now I had to hear it from David, too. “And? Are you disappointed in me?”
“No. I wish I was there to hug you, though.”
My heart paused. “Oh, David . . .” His quiet words sank deep into my soul, filling all the empty voids. I closed my eyes. “I needed to hear that so bad.”
"GiGi, you should know TL’s had me following you. I was right there watching you on that bike trailing Eduardo.”
Silence. Long seconds ticked by as indignation hit me first, slowly followed by logical reasoning. Of course TL would have me followed. He’d be stupid not to.
“And,” David continued, “back at the ranch, I secretly met with TL nearly every night to give him a rundown on our day’s activities.”
I didn’t have a response to that one either. I didn’t feel double crossed, really. Naive better explained my thoughts. It was naive of me to think I could do such a complex job without TL closely monitoring me.
“Don’t take it personally. To my knowledge, he’s never just handed over the reins to someone. He is in charge. Even when someone goes on a solo mission, like I did to Iowa, he’s still on top of it all. That’s his job. And that’ll be his job until he one day steps down and turns his duties over to someone else.”
“Over to you.”
“Maybe. Being a strategist is not easy.”
“Tell me about it.” Suddenly, I missed David so badly I could barely stand it. “I really miss you.”
“I miss you, too.”
And then the line clicked off.
[12]
Later that night I lay wide-eyed, staring at the dark ceiling of my hotel room. One A.M. I knew it was one A.M. because I’d been incessantly checking my watch since my return from the beach.
The air conditioner kicked on. Its rush of air and motored hum muted Jessy’s (or maybe Lessy’s) soft snore. Beside me, Beaker twitched in her sleep and then rolled to her side.
A hotel exterior light filtered through the curtains’ crack, flickering shadows across the walls.
My mind was racing. I couldn’t stop thinking about everything that had happened since we got here. I’d started thinking about other stuff in order to get my mind off David and why the line clicked off.
I knew my cell phone hadn’t cut off. I’d had a full battery and all my bars. Believe me, I immediately checked as soon as we got disconnected.
So that meant his phone went dead. But did it go dead because of his battery or his bars?
Couldn’t be his battery. David always had a charged battery.
Which left bars. That didn’t make sense, though. Anywhere we went we had full bars. Even underground. It was one of the benefits of being members of a high-tech, secret organization.
Two-thirteen A.M.
He wouldn’t have hung up on me, would he? Right after telling me he missed me? Was the “miss you” part getting too deep?
Gggrrr. Shut up, GiGi. You’re driving yourself insane.
I squeezed my eyes shut and concentrated on not talking to myself. I needed to sleep. Think code. That always relaxed me.
<=*ptth*= /!attstli!/ %csorrtetat%>
Three twenty-one A.M.
Why didn’t he call me back? I’d tried calling him back and had gotten his voice mail. In fact—I lifted my cell phone from my stomach and checked the display—no missed calls. No voice mails. No nothing. Nada. Finito. And if I had Parrot’s linguistic skills, I’d give it in sixteen other languages, too.
Four forty-two A.M.
Surely lying on my back this long would give me bed sores. Or a flat butt.
Rolling onto my side, I stared at the back of Beaker’s head . . .
"GOOOd morning, barracuda key, Florida!”
I shot straight up in bed.
“It’s six A.M. on this beee-u-ti-ful day!”
One of the twins slammed her hand over the alarm radio. “Shut up.”
Six A.M.? I must have fallen asleep and gotten exactly—I quickly calculated—one hour and eighteen minutes of sleep.
With a groan, I dropped my head into my hands. This day hadn’t started and it already sucked.
One of the twins opened the curtains, allowing the morning sun to pour in. Squinting, I held my hands up to block the glare shooting straight into my skull.
Beaker stretched. “What are you, a vampire?”
No, but I felt like one.
Beaker swung her legs over the side of the bed. “You look like somebody broke you into pieces and didn’t quite get the puzzle when they put you back together.”
With another groan, I fell back into bed and crammed the pillow over my head.
“Good morning, good morning, good morning, how are you? I’m fine, I’m fine, I hope you are, too. Good morning, good morn . . .” I didn’t know which twin was singing (and dancing by the way her voice bounced around the room), but I wanted to duct-tape her little mouth and shove her from the room.
One bathroom and four girls did not make good odds, but an hour later, we all managed to be ready. I’d always been a low-maintenance girl. It didn’t take much to get me going. Fifteen minutes tops—showered, ribbons tied, and all. Watching the twins made me thankful of that.
I didn’t know so much could be done to fingers and toes, eyebrows and hair, makeup and shaving, and whatever else in preparation for one single day. Heck, it took them fifteen minutes just to apply lotion. It wore me out watching them.
The Winning Element (The Specialists) Page 16