Part 15 (1/2)
”I'm afraid,” she said, as the tears rolled down her cheeks. She looked at his offering, but didn't reach for it.
”There's nothing to be afraid of,” he a.s.sured her. ”It's just private, that's all.”
She took the bag and was about to open it when the machine that her father was hooked up to beeped and his sickly body coughed violently. In a whirlwind, she was swooped out of there, but she clutched that velvet bag as she saw her father alive for the last time. She ran to her suite with the bag hid it in the bottom of her toy bin.
Chapter 26.
Memories of Shayla washed away with each pa.s.sing day, and Brigg and Chester started fading too. Reality sank in. Nathaniel would never see anyone from his life in Cambridge again. It was far more challenging now that it was up to him to keep the distance.
He had diligently worked on his new life but was tired of attending the POAs. He had gone on countless dates, and cooked gourmet meals for women who were only after s.e.x. What he really needed was a wife, not another random date from a woman at the POA. Nathaniel needed a break. He picked up a slice of pizza and popped open a beer as he relaxed on his futon bed, with a brand new novel by Berrini that made him think of Shayla. Had she already read it?
The phone rang and he sprang from the couch.
”Joe Merino?”
”This is he,” Nathaniel said, bracing himself. Fear pulsed through his veins.
”This is Kelly Boys,” said an unfamiliar voice. It was Sat.u.r.day night, and he couldn't imagine why they needed to contact him. Garrett was gone. Nathaniel wondered if they knew. Maybe they just realized he wasn't returning or maybe they were going through Garrett's files and Joe Merino was listed as an Underground affiliate. Nathaniel's heart pumped with fear. Maybe there were Tasers right outside his door, ready to storm in.
”Sorry for the short notice, but your Monday a.s.signment has changed.”
”Oh, that's fine,” he said, relieved. Couldn't they have just sent him an email? Then again, Garrett usually called with a.s.signment changes. Nathaniel was about to ask about Garrett, but stopped himself. What was he going to say? ”What happened after he got Tased and taken away at the protest?” That could be self-incriminating, as they might want to ask how he knew that Garrett was part of the demonstration.
”We're sending you to Was.h.i.+ngton D.C. for the next week to work as an executive meeting scribe. Your flight is on SuperAir, and it leaves Monday at 6 a.m. Someone will meet you at the airport in D.C and help you out on that end. If you have any questions, feel free to call us.”
”Okay,” Nathaniel said, feeling out of sorts all over again. He hung up and let it sink in. He would have to cancel two dates, but wasn't sure he minded missing either.
More importantly, his Underground contact at Kelly Boys was gone and n.o.body else stepped in. What did that mean?
Then there were logistics. Nathaniel had never been on a plane. The Underground had all kinds of courses, but there wasn't anything that covered how to squash the anxiety of your first airplane flight.
After waiting more than a half an hour for takeoff, he was far more nervous than he cared to admit.
”Another Maker's Mark, please?” he asked the steward.
”You sure? Kind of early for so many drinks, don't you think?”
”It's my first flight,” he whispered, thinking about the life he used to have. There was never a reason to fly anywhere. Winter vacations in New England were just a drive to a ski area and summers meant hiking in Maine or a beach trip to Cape Cod.
”I'll get you one more, but I don't want to have to carry you out of here,” the steward said, half joking.
He thought of Janice. ”You know what? Maybe I don't need another,” Nathaniel said. He would rather white knuckle it all the way than be a drunk.
”You sure?”
”Yes, thank you,” he said, just as the pilot announced to prepare for takeoff.
The flight went smoothly, but he was glad when he landed. Right outside the gate, he saw a man holding a sign with his name.
”I'm Joe,” he told the man.
”Do you have luggage?”
”Right here,” he said, indicating his carry-on.
”Let's go,” the driver said dryly before silently leading Nathaniel to the car. Nathaniel tried to ask a little about the capital, but the grunt-like responses told him this grumpy taxi driver only drove. Just like Simon, he thought to himself.
”Are we going to my hotel?” he finally asked.
”I'm dropping you at Archibald Company,” the driver said.
As they drove through the city, Nathaniel drank in the sights, which differed from both Cambridge and Kansas City. It was a clean city. Watching people walk the streets, he noticed a more formal dress, a far cry from Kansas City and even farther from Cambridge.
It was a short drive from the airport to Archibald, which was in a bustling business district of the city. The driver got out of the car, took Nathaniel's luggage from the trunk, and deposited it on the sidewalk. Nathaniel pulled out his wallet.
”It's paid,” the driver said without looking at Nathaniel. He returned to the car and drove off.
Nathaniel was about to enter Archibald's building when a jackhammer sound caught his ear, like a familiar tune on the radio. He stopped and turned. A group of Public Works personnel were going in and out of a manhole in the middle of the street. He remembered wearing their uniform: protective eye and ear-wear, and the ever-present hard hat. He didn't miss that kind of work, and yet, a piece of him wanted to walk over to see what they were doing.
He stepped inside, and took the elevator to Archibald's floor. The grandiose reception area had intricately inlaid marble floors and a large floral arrangement on the clean gla.s.s counter out front. The three men behind it were all occupied, speaking politely on phones. The first who was free approached Nathaniel.
”I'm Joe Merino from Kelly Boys. I was told you would know where I should be,” he said. He was glad to be holding luggage, which hid the shaking of his nervous hands. This was the first time he would work solely as a scribe.
”Follow me,” one of the men said.
As he followed the man down the hall, Nathaniel imagined himself bragging to the women at the next POA. Being a scribe had cache.
”Here you go,” said the man who had led him through the maze of hallways filled with gla.s.s offices and conference rooms where the ”skirts” appeared to be hard at work.
”I'm Dan, by the way. Can I get you something? Coffee? Water? Something to eat?” It was strange to be on the receiving end of the work he was accustomed to doing.
”I'd love a cup of coffee, if it's not too much trouble,” Nathaniel said. ”Actually, I can get it myself if you'll just point me to the coffee station.” Surely, Dan had plenty to do. Nathaniel knew this from firsthand experience.
”Don't be silly.”
”Are you sure? I really don't mind getting it,” Nathaniel said, feeling awkward no matter what he did.
”Cream and sugar?”
”Yes to both,” Nathaniel said.