problems, obscure math, scientific issues, and other messy stuff. Once my clients give up, they call me for help.”
“But you’re so young. Are you one of those brainiacs?”
His smile froze. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“How exciting. Do you like what you do?”
“Sure, I guess. But the constant travel gets old–nearly debilitating.” The heaviness of his life weighed on him. Silence crept in. “At least on this trip I got to meet you.”
Gemma’s brow rose, and her lips parted slightly. A real, honest face emerged.
“So tell me, Gemma, do you like what you do?”
“
Boarding for Air France flight 77 to Los Angeles will commence in five minutes
,” the intercom announced.
“Crap, that’s my flight.” He paused, torn. He wanted to stay with her, but he had to go home, see his friends, and enjoy his first vacation in seven years. “Maybe we’ll bump into each other again?”
“As your stalker, I’ll be sure to find you,” she said, then latched onto his eyes. “It was lovely talking to you. And again, thank you for coming to my rescue.”
“Anytime.”
He rose, ready to leave, when he decided to lean in close to say something. She stiffened. Electricity hummed off her body. He slowly regained his composure. “Not everyone wants to use you.”
And when her eyes lit up, inches away from his face, he wondered if he could delay his flight home for just an hour. Or a week.
“There you are,” Roger said. “What happened? Did they screw up something?”
“No, all’s well,” Andre said as he collected his bag and headed toward priority boarding. He could feel Roger’s probing eyes against his back. There was no way he would tell Roger about Gemma. As good as M&T had been to him financially, they were no friend to the personal lives of their principal consultants.
“By the way,” Roger leaned to whisper, “something’s come up with Homeland Security. This is in advance of Project Sunrise.”
Andre shuddered. Project Sunrise was the classified initiative led by the Pentagon. A project that would remove him from the grid for at least three months. These were the worst of the worst. In his career, he had been part of a few such efforts, each one leaving him more depleted than the last.
“So we may need to go to D.C. next week,” Roger said.
Andre came to a dead stop. “Wait–what? I’ve taken next week off.”
“We’ll know more on Tuesday. Enjoy Memorial Day. Just don’t do anything to put that prized brain of yours at risk. Depending on what we hear, we may need to get flexible.”
“Roger, I’ve made plans. And what’s with ‘we’? You never go to D.C. and furthermore, even if you did, you’re not allowed to enter the facility; you’re not classified.” Andre spun in the opposite direction.
Other passengers stared at them.
“Where are you going? We’re boarding.”
“I need to get something first. You go ahead.” If he stayed, he was bound to say or do something he’d regret.
The Illy Cafe was a short walk away. He ordered a double espresso, then slumped down on a stool. He studied a couple who appeared to be on vacation. A novel concept. Seven years with the company, and he had yet to get one week to himself. Every vacation had been interrupted by some important engagement. Initially he’d felt compelled to put his life on hold and prove himself. Then it was the greed. His commission payments were astronomic, and the correlation was direct–the more he pushed himself, the more he earned. But a year ago, when one of his closest friends died of cancer at the age of twenty-three, he knew he needed a drastic change in his life.
In a few months, once he received his retention bonus, he’d walk away from all of this.
He sipped the rest of his espresso, then grabbed his bags and headed to the terminal. Something tightened in his neck. Another headache. He eyed the spa store, wondering how quickly they could massage his neck. Then he caught a whiff of a
“But you’re so young. Are you one of those brainiacs?”
His smile froze. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“How exciting. Do you like what you do?”
“Sure, I guess. But the constant travel gets old–nearly debilitating.” The heaviness of his life weighed on him. Silence crept in. “At least on this trip I got to meet you.”
Gemma’s brow rose, and her lips parted slightly. A real, honest face emerged.
“So tell me, Gemma, do you like what you do?”
“
Boarding for Air France flight 77 to Los Angeles will commence in five minutes
,” the intercom announced.
“Crap, that’s my flight.” He paused, torn. He wanted to stay with her, but he had to go home, see his friends, and enjoy his first vacation in seven years. “Maybe we’ll bump into each other again?”
“As your stalker, I’ll be sure to find you,” she said, then latched onto his eyes. “It was lovely talking to you. And again, thank you for coming to my rescue.”
“Anytime.”
He rose, ready to leave, when he decided to lean in close to say something. She stiffened. Electricity hummed off her body. He slowly regained his composure. “Not everyone wants to use you.”
And when her eyes lit up, inches away from his face, he wondered if he could delay his flight home for just an hour. Or a week.
“There you are,” Roger said. “What happened? Did they screw up something?”
“No, all’s well,” Andre said as he collected his bag and headed toward priority boarding. He could feel Roger’s probing eyes against his back. There was no way he would tell Roger about Gemma. As good as M&T had been to him financially, they were no friend to the personal lives of their principal consultants.
“By the way,” Roger leaned to whisper, “something’s come up with Homeland Security. This is in advance of Project Sunrise.”
Andre shuddered. Project Sunrise was the classified initiative led by the Pentagon. A project that would remove him from the grid for at least three months. These were the worst of the worst. In his career, he had been part of a few such efforts, each one leaving him more depleted than the last.
“So we may need to go to D.C. next week,” Roger said.
Andre came to a dead stop. “Wait–what? I’ve taken next week off.”
“We’ll know more on Tuesday. Enjoy Memorial Day. Just don’t do anything to put that prized brain of yours at risk. Depending on what we hear, we may need to get flexible.”
“Roger, I’ve made plans. And what’s with ‘we’? You never go to D.C. and furthermore, even if you did, you’re not allowed to enter the facility; you’re not classified.” Andre spun in the opposite direction.
Other passengers stared at them.
“Where are you going? We’re boarding.”
“I need to get something first. You go ahead.” If he stayed, he was bound to say or do something he’d regret.
The Illy Cafe was a short walk away. He ordered a double espresso, then slumped down on a stool. He studied a couple who appeared to be on vacation. A novel concept. Seven years with the company, and he had yet to get one week to himself. Every vacation had been interrupted by some important engagement. Initially he’d felt compelled to put his life on hold and prove himself. Then it was the greed. His commission payments were astronomic, and the correlation was direct–the more he pushed himself, the more he earned. But a year ago, when one of his closest friends died of cancer at the age of twenty-three, he knew he needed a drastic change in his life.
In a few months, once he received his retention bonus, he’d walk away from all of this.
He sipped the rest of his espresso, then grabbed his bags and headed to the terminal. Something tightened in his neck. Another headache. He eyed the spa store, wondering how quickly they could massage his neck. Then he caught a whiff of a
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