After a few drinks, things didn’t seem as catastrophic anymore. I began to wonder why I was making such a fuss over this stupid mission. Sure, Slade would be there, but I could always ignore him. Hell, I have been ignoring him since he joined the LD. On some days, I was even successful at it.
When I finally came home, I ordered pizza, ate it, puked it, and showered. I packed my shit for the trip to Grangetown Correctional Facility. It was almost midnight when I got into bed, and my phone rang. Since it was Jordan, my first impulse was to reject the call, but I figured I should probably talk to him.
“What?” I answered, adjusting my pillow.
“It’s m-me.”
I rolled my eyes. “I know it’s you, weirdo. What do you want?”
“I just wanted to talk to you.”
His voice sounded different on the phone. Raspier. Not entirely unpleasant. In fact, it was easier to talk to him without having to look at him.
“Talk then,” I said with a sigh.
“So, um… did you read Chief Bibb’s instructions?”
“Yeah, I got his email while I was still at Pete’s. Fairly basic stuff. Avoid eye contact, listen more than you talk, yada, yada, yada. Have you ever worked undercover before?”
“No.”
Of course, he hadn’t, because such was my luck.
“Do you have any advice for me?” Jordan asked me.
“Yeah, just do what I do. Don’t talk too much. Stick to me. That’s about it.”
“How long do you think before we make Santiago talk?”
“I have no idea,” I mused. “He is the right-hand man of the most dangerous man in the country. He’s bound to be tight-lipped, but based on his file, he’s a hothead and a narcissist, so we should use it to our advantage.”
“Right.”
“Anything else?” I said, yawning. “I had a few too many drinks at Pete’s, and I would like to go to sleep. Incidentally, where are you?”
“In my bed,” Jordan replied. “You?”
“I’m in my bed, too.”
Why did that sound so weird?
Jordan sniffled. “It’s cold today, huh? Is your heating turned on?”
I chuckled, shaking my head in disbelief. Was I really up at midnight, discussing the weather with Jordan Slade?
“What’s so funny?” Jordan said, sounding as if he were smiling. “Are you… um… tipsy?”
“I’m fucking drunk, Jordan,” I admitted. “I’m angry, annoyed, tired, sleepy, and hard, but most of all, drunk.”
Jordan gulped. “What did you just say?”
What did I say? I had no fucking clue.
“Enough talky-talky, weirdo,” I grumbled. “Get your shit together and concentrate on the task at hand. Go to sleep and stop calling me. In fact, never call me again.”
Chapter 3
A New Low
