“So are nice guys,” Hayley argued. The doors of the gym opened, and the gymnasts streamed out in sweat shorts and leotards, gym bags slung over their shoulders. Valerie jogged toward the car, waving.
“Sure,” Mia said. “But besides James, where? I can’t wait to meet this perfect mystery man who will deflower my chaste and perfect cousin.” Mia pretended to fan herself.
“Shut up,” Hayley laughed. “He won’t beperfect. I like a little bit of bad.”
“Jefferson was a delinquent, so maybe you need to scale it back on that preference,” Mia said.
“Not a delinquent. Rebellious…”
“He got suspended for smoking pot in a locker room. Not the brightest of rebels.”
“Well, I said he wasn’t the one, didn’t I? He’s out there.” Hayley unlocked the car for Valerie to get in the back. “I don’t know where, though. Probably somewhere obvious; that’s where everything you’re looking for ends up being, right?”
She gestured out the window at the sky. “He’s out there. Probably right under my nose.”
4
Touchdown
Bryce couldn’t rememberthe last time he’d seen so much green as the plane descended over Jackson, Mississippi. He’d grown up in an old manufacturing town, where most of the factories had been shut down after production went overseas, leaving the buildings to be leveled after too much decay, with only concrete pads remaining. The pads had been co-opted by kids for basketball games and skateboard riding, but Bryce had preferred to stay inside, disassembling and reassembling scavenged electronics from the dumpsters behind office buildings and schools.
He even “liberated” a few things when he got tired of fixing broken appliances, and wanted to upgrade ones that already had all of their working parts: a fax machine, ham radios and his first computer, swiped from the desk of a dental receptionist, when he found the building unlocked. Hardware turned to software, as he learned to write and re-code programs. Once he started using his skills to steal money, Bryce bought a used car and left home for the beach front high rises of Miami. He liked to be in cities with actual, functional buildings standing high on their foundations, rather than the weeds and trees which flourished in the cracks of the industrial ghost town of his childhood.
But after getting arrested, his military tours in the dry, endlessness of the desert and then eventual move to respectable civilian life in New York City, Bryce had started to miss the weeds and the leaves and the trees of his hometown. New York City had some green, but nothing like what he saw from his airplane window. The trees and fields of Mississippi grew closer as the plane lowered, and Bryce squeezed the armrests, his heart racing as he willed the plane to land without incident. Flying had always made him nervous; he preferred fast cars to airplanes.
Bryce finished the scotch the flight attendant had brought him for free with a wink. Being skilled at computers hadn’t been the only tool in his belt which had opened doors for him over the years; looking like a cross between a professional polo player and a well-heeled young stockbroker had also helped. Appearances were everything; he’d learned that almost as fast as he’d learn to program. He adjusted the lapel on his jacket.
Rusty had given him a pep talk before Bryce left for the airport, reminding him he was selected for the job because he already knew what to do to take care of a run-of-the-mill stalker. Rusty and the other guys at the firm were used to protecting famous people: politicians, rappers, country stars, the occasional Hollywood starlet in New York City for filming, and the many socialites who made magazine covers, just for being pretty at parties or raising money for charities.
“She’s just another client,” Rusty reminded him. “She eats. She sleeps. She puts her pants on one leg at a time. She’s vulnerable.” Bryce didn’t hear the rest of Rusty’s speech; he’d been too busy picturing Hayley Wild without pants. She had long, tanned legs, thick at the top and a perfectly round butt…
Bryce drained his drink. He tried to picture something unsexy like his bunkmate at basic training snoring, otherwise he couldn’t stand up to exit the plane with the hard-on his Hayley daydream had just given him. Worse, he needed to make sure he wouldn’t pop one the second he met her, like some horny prepubescent teenager. He was an adult now. A professional. Hayley Wild was just another client. Another job. He was there to catch the stalker, neutralize him and go home.
“Earn my stripes,” Bryce mumbled to the window.
His seat-mate looked over. “Excuse me?”
“Nothing,” Bryce said, shaking his head.
He shook the ice in his cup, making it settle. The plane bumped down on the runway. He straightened his tie. He’d chosen his best wardrobe for this trip, whether to show Hayley he was a pro or remind himself, he wasn’t sure.
As long as he didn’t act like a fangirl at a concert, Bryce figured he would be all right. Maybe she looked like a troll in real life, or even just a normal girl, the kind he passed on the streets in New York all the time? Maybe even like his ex?
Bryce swallowed hard, thinking about Erin. She had been in the military with him and received orders at another base, across the country. She’d refused his offer to get married, arguing they were too young. She didn’t want to do long distance, didn’t want to try to get stationed in the same place. And that was that. She was gone. Bryce hadn’t dated anyone since. Not seriously, at least. After leaving the army, he’d quickly realized he was handsome even by New York City standards and could pick up girls at bars easily. His apartment impressed them when he brought them home for a one-night-stand, and he made sure they only saw the spotless gourmet kitchen, sweeping views of the Hudson from his living room, and the king-sized bed adorned with luxury sateen sheets, tucked crisply at the edges.
The room he really lived in when he was home, was his den. It had six computer monitors and dozens of humming machines, and he kept it closed and hidden, just like he’d done with his interests all throughout his earlier years . He didn’t need the people he met now thinking he was weird. It would be like middle school all over again. In truth, he stillfeltweird and knew he probablywasweird. But at least now, with money and nice clothes, he could keep that part of himself better hidden. But it was hard finding a genuine connection at times. In fact, the only time he felt like it was okay not to hide his true self, was when he listened to Hayley’s music. Her voice and lyrics seemed to break down his mental fears and insecurities.
The plane rolled to the gate and Bryce unbuckled his seat belt. He took a deep breath, calming himself. Why was he more nervous now, than when he had been in a war zone? A flight attendant opened the passenger door, and a wave of humidity and heat rolled into the air-conditioned cabin, instantly swelling sweat beneath Bryce’s collar. Rusty may have been right about dressing for the heat.
The intercom crackled overhead as a flight attendant spoke into the microphone: “Welcome to Mississippi, y’all.”
5
Meeting The Team
The rental carRusty booked for Bryce was embarrassing, especially when pulling up to a gated community of sprawling estates: a two-door sedan, snub-nosed and fuel efficient. Bryce’s suitcase barely fit into the trunk, let alone his bags full of laptops and hardware he brought along to set up a mobile command station in his hotel room.
Bryce had driven away from the airport, muttering he could have hacked himself into a Cadillac Escalade in less time than it took for the clerk to verify his company credit card number. Rusty would not be pleased, though. There was no Redmond Security Group employee handbook which explicitly stated, “no backdoor work arounds,” but Bryce was pretty sure breaking into the Venture Rental Company’s computers would be quick grounds for dismissal, if Rusty noticed.
