The Calm Before the Storm
“You’re seeing someone.”
Winter turned an exasperated look toward Dameon as they sat together around the cooker on their table. “No, I’m not,” he replied. The Korean barbeque restaurant was bustling with activity, but their corner was quiet, the tables around them taken by security staff while eager onlookers lingered out on the streets. A couple of the fans were wearing sweatshirts emblazoned with the wordsI’M A SPY, a nod to his recent outfit that had quickly become the latest fashion trend.
“Then you’re at least thinking about someone,” Leo went on. “I can tell.”
It was true that he was thinking about someone—specifically, Sydney Cossette—although it certainly wasn’t because he wanted to date her. After a week of grueling training, his mind swam with nothing but techniques and strategies and the image of Sydney’s cool, steely face. He couldn’t stop puzzling over the mystery of her, the way she could pull details from his life just by noting the hesitations in his answers, the scowl she’d given him when he’d confronted her about her breathing techniques. At night, when he had time to work on his music, he found hints of her creeping into the bars and the words, fragments of melodies that reminded him of her.
Not that he could tell any of this to Leo or Dameon. One of Sydney’s lessons sprang unbidden into his mind.
Sometimes people just want validation. Give a little to them, and you’ll be surprised how much of a conversation you can steer.
So he said, “Fine. It’s a girl. But not because I like her.”
Leo leaned closer and grinned. “Yes you do.”
“I donot. She’s annoying as hell.”
“Like my mama always says—don’t lie to me about the truth.”
“Wait.” Dameon paused as he was flipping their strips of steak on the grill. He pointed the tongs at Winter. “Didn’t you just hire a few new security folks? One of them is a girl our age.”
“I saw her the other day, having a lunch meeting with Claire.” Leo’s eyes went wide, then back to Winter. “It’s her, isn’t it? She’s cute.”
Dameon whistled, his eyes lingering thoughtfully on Winter. “Bodyguard romances are rough.”
Winter threw his hands up. “It’s not, because there’s no romance. I just hate having her around.”
“Why?”
“She’s…” Winter struggled for a descriptor. “Too observant.”
Dameon lifted an eyebrow. “She stares at you too much?”
“She makes me feel like I always have something stuck in my teeth.”
“So… she’s just good at her job?”
Leo smiled sidelong at Dameon. “I think it’s because she didn’t take one look at him and melt. Threw him off his game.”
“No onemeltswhen I look at them,” Winter scoffed, annoyed at the rising flush in his cheeks as he grabbed the tongs and dropped finished strips of steak onto his friends’ plates.
“It’s like Mexico City all over again,” Leo went on. “You remember last year, when we were there? Winter woke up late after our concert.”
“I never wake up late,” Winter replied. He wrapped a small piece of steak in a thin slice of pickled radish and popped it in his mouth, savoring the burst of flavors.
“Youwerelate, though,” Leo insisted. “That’s why I remember that morning.Becauseyou were late to practice, and because I found that weird.”
“I wasn’tthatlate. Our set just ran over the night before,” Winter answered. “You don’t remember?”
“Four encores,” Leo said. “I remember.”
“We were up till five at the hotel. Max ran tlacoyos upstairs for us from that stand at the corner down the road.” He snapped his fingers twice, as if trying to remember the street names.
“Tonalá and Campeche,” Dameon recalled serenely from Winter’s other side as he doled out more cooked meat onto each of their plates.
“And then you didn’t go back to your room,” Leo added with a sly grin.
