Leverage, page 20
“Wash your hands when you’re done, please,” he said as he backed out of the bathroom.
“Thanks for the reminder, Dad.”
I made sure to run the water for an extra-long time so Jeff could hear me washing my hands and when I opened the bathroom door, he was hovering in the narrow hall. “Do you need tea or coffee before we start?” he asked.
“Nah, it won’t take long. I’ll manage. Thanks.”
“What about your workout? Yoga?”
“I’ll do it afterward to recenter myself after touching you.”
“Copy that.” He moved past me to stand next to the bathtub, and by his expression, it was obvious he wanted to say something and either wasn’t sure how it would be received (like that’d ever bothered him) or he didn’t know how to phrase it.
“Spit it out,” I said.
“I know your yoga stuff helps you feel centered, but is it helping at all with your bad dreams?”
I stared dumbly at him. “How do you know what I’m dreaming about?”
“Because you’re very loud when you’re dreaming. Or nightmaring.”
I was? Sophia had never mentioned anything about me talking in my sleep. “Mmm,” I conceded after a long pause. “And I don’t know. I feel okay, all things considered but I’m still having weird, sometimes bad dreams every night. I’m not really the nightmare type, you know? Like I might have one here or there if I’m stressed but not most nights like I am now.”
“Probably not unusual given the circumstances. If you want someone to unpack things with, you know where to find me.”
“Thanks.” I gestured to the bathtub and changed the subject. “Sit on the edge of the tub so I don’t have to reach up.”
He carefully settled on the edge, leaning to the side to make room for me to slip in behind him. Jeff wrapped a towel around his shoulders and sat completely still as I began clipping. There wasn’t much to trim—the man did not like letting his hair grow out—and I made sure to do a good job. As I checked the clip lines, I had a mental image from what felt like a lifetime ago.
Me trimming my hair the night I’d gone on the run, then Sophia fixing the asymmetrical cut while we’d been holed up in Florida. The concentration frown between her eyebrows as she’d watched a haircutting instruction video. The soft glide of her fingertips over my skin. The careful way she’d trimmed millimeters at a time off the hair I’d already butchered myself. The way we’d made love afterward, soft and slow, sensuous and sweet.
“All done,” I said, my voice a little husky from that memory. Hopefully Jeff would just attribute the roughness to morning voice.
“Not bad. I’d tip you if you were a real hairdresser.” He ran his hand over the top of his head, brushing away loose short hairs. “You mind doing that every few weeks?”
“Sure.” It’d give me something interesting to do, and if he was being an asshole I’d just shave lines, or a dick and balls, into the side of his head. I indicated the hair mess in the bathtub. “But you’re cleaning this up.”
“I’m sensing a theme here. You do something, I clean up after you.”
“I do something for you,” I reminded him as I snapped the guard off the clippers and handed it to him to clean. Waving the clippers near his face, I asked, “Need me to trim that growth on your face too?”
Jeff recoiled. “Fuck no. This is my working-away-from-home beard.”
“As opposed to…a regular being-at-home beard?”
“Yes. My wife hates facial hair, thinks it’s scratchy, and she barely tolerates me having stubble if I’ve been working nonstop days and nights and haven’t had time to shave. The problem is, she never lets me get beyond scratchy stubble to soft and luxurious beard stage.” He stroked his cheek. “So here I am, growing a beard while I’m away.”
At least I didn’t have to worry about beard hair in the sink. “You had stubble during our debriefs.”
“Yes. Your situation kept me away from home for five days.”
“Why not go home with the beard when it’s all soft and show her what it could be like if she let you grow one at home?”
“Because she doesn’t like beards,” he said, as if it were obvious. He carefully took the clippers from me and shooed me out of the bathroom. “Thanks for the trim. Now go do your happy brain things.”
* * *
I’d been trying to ignore the mental and physical side effects caused by a lack of vigorous movement, but by day nineteen, I felt like a grenade someone was holding with sweaty fingers. Nobody had explicitly said it wasn’t a good idea for me, a single white woman, to be out sprinting through the streets, but the thought of what might happen was a niggle that refused to leave. And Jeff had made it clear that his knees did not appreciate anything high impact, so asking him to join me was out.
He tolerated my grumbling and squirming and getting up to pace every thirty minutes for a few days before he finally asked, “What is up with you?”
“I can’t get any sort of proper cardio workout here,” I griped, shifting in the chair. Pressing my fingers hard into my shoulder didn’t help shift the knots. “I hate not moving. And I’ve got all this energy and no place for it.” I’d been hammering myself with movement inside, but there were only so many jumping jacks and so much running on the spot or pacing that I could do. Taking walks with Jeff helped, but strolling just wasn’t cutting it—my morning floor workout of calisthenics, stretching, and bodyweight strength training wasn’t enough without some heart-pumping cardio as well.
“What did you do while you were in the middle of your little jaunt to Tampa? There were no reports of you running outside.”
I forced down the bristle at recalling not only that point in my life but that he’d had people watching me and reporting back to him. “I sucked it up for the good of my country. And I did get in a few runs at hotel gyms, and I have my bodyweight floor routine thing that I did each morning. And, it was only a week. But here, I’m missing a very important component.” My morning routine helped keep me sane. Wake up, stretch, forty-five-minute yoga practice, ten-minute meditation, then into the work gym for cardio and weights if I felt like it, relaxing shower, breakfast and cup of tea at my desk while I readied for the workday. Of course, since Sophia, I’d added occasional morning sex to my rotation. And for the better.
“Ah.” He shuffled through some papers. “You know you can go outside unescorted, and run around the park.”
“I know that. I’m just…still getting used to the vibe of the city,” I said, trying to ignore how small and scared my explanation sounded. It was ridiculous to think what had happened in 2017 would ever happen to me again, but fears were dumb and irrational, and those fears kept telling me that if I didn’t go out alone then I wouldn’t get snatched again.
I’m pretty sure Jeff knew why I was reluctant to go out alone, but he didn’t push. “I’m always happy to take walks with you, even twice daily. It’s good for my back, and after all, you are supposed to be out and about, looking at sites for our ‘school’ and talking with the locals to keep up your cover.”
“That’s true. And I accept the twice-daily offer. Thanks.” I took a deep breath. “Maybe I’ll go around the park a few times a week to get started with my cardio again.”
“You’re welcome. Now, do you think you could stop fidgeting for an hour so I can finish reading this report?”
“No, sorry.”
Jeff had gone out to meet an old friend and have an evening meal with them, so I ate canned soup and a protein bar for dinner, took a shower, then settled on my bed with my laptop to catch up on some of my shows while I waited for my call time with Sophia. In the twenty-three days since I’d left, we’d only had eight video or voice calls that lasted longer than a few minutes. Eight. So much for the “we’ll talk every day” I’d promised. If I thought it’d get me anywhere, I’d complain about the Internet service but I was still harboring doubts that it wasn’t intentional.
The knock on the front door interrupted the last ten minutes of my show, but was at the time Jeff said he’d be back, so I jumped up right away. When I peered through the peephole I noticed Jeff had company in the form of two late-teens boys and an indistinct contraption. I paused, waiting for the verbal signal that things weren’t as they seemed and that I shouldn’t open the door, but it never came. No duress for Jeff.
I opened the door, and saw the boys rushing back down the hall, laughing and joking with each other and talking about what they were going to spend their money on. The contraption was a treadmill, which they’d apparently hefted from who knew where, into the elevator and along the full length of the hall to our door.
“I brought you an early birthday present.” Jeff ran his hand over the frame, avoiding the spots where the paint was flaking. “She’s not much, but she’ll do. I don’t think I’ve seen one like this since my twenties. Maybe earlier…”
I put my foot on the conveyor, testing the cushion. Could be worse, could be a whole lot better. “Thank you, this is great. How much do I owe you?”
He waved me off. “I used part of our budget. Mostly because I’m sick of the sight and sound of no-cardio Alexandra, but also sometimes I just don’t feel like going outside, so I can just walk inside. It’s a win for all.” He frowned. “Or it will be a win. We still have to get it into the apartment and into position, and we’re working with one-and-a-quarter functioning backs here.”
“I assume I’m the fully functioning back.” I bent down to check for wheels, relieved to see a set at the heavy front end. “You want to push or guide?”
“Guide, please, if you don’t mind.”
We cleared a path into the living room and to a spot by the sliding doors, then I hefted the back while Jeff steered. “How the hell did you find it?” I asked as we guided the treadmill into the apartment. It wasn’t like there was Craigslist here.
He came around behind me to close and secure the door. “I asked my friend if he knew where I could get some cardio equipment, he made some calls, and here we are. Plus paying a couple of local teenagers to bring it here is good for business. They’ll remember us as people who pay for things. Including information.”
Information. They were still young, maybe not involved yet. But kids heard things. “Good plan,” I said, and meant it. “Careful, don’t trip on the edge of that rug.”
Jeff smiled. “Sometimes I think of smart things.”
“A good plan,” I repeated. “Even if we’re not supposed to be paying for information…” I raised my eyebrows. “What was it the ops team said?” I lowered my voice to gruffness. “‘We all have our jobs and if we stick to that, we’ll get along fine.’”
“Well, my job is broad in scope, Alexandra, and I refuse to sit idly by, doing a job I can do in my sleep, while good information is out there floating around just waiting to be snatched up.” He shrugged, mouth quirking. “So what if it happens to be us that snatches up the information first? Cut out the middle man, remember? Isn’t that the whole reason for us being here?”
“You’re devious.” I stuffed down my annoyance that he was apparently allowed to go off gathering information, but I’d been “banned” from approaching Elaheh.
“No, I’m efficient. Careful, bend your knees. Let’s get this set up so you can get running.” After dubiously eyeing the dusty, basic electronics panel, he added, “Slowly to start with, I think. Maybe only ever slowly…”
“Slow running is better than no running. Thank you. I’d hug you if I didn’t think I’d vomit from the disgust of touching you,” I said dryly.
“Me too,” he said flatly, though it was clear he was trying not to laugh. “So it’s a good thing you haven’t.”
Once we’d tested the treadmill and confirmed Jeff hadn’t bought a complete dud (just a slight dud), I dusted myself off and went back into my room to call Sophia. The planets aligned, weather conditions were favorable, satellites shifted into the right position, and my murmured, “Come on, come on, you bastard” had the desired effect. The video call connected, and held.
The moment I saw her, pleasure flowed through me, spreading warmth all the way to the tips of my limbs. It was like the sun peeking from behind a cloud after a month of storms. “Hey, you.” I was surprised by the press of tears, and blinked hard to push them away.
“Hey, yourself. God, I’m glad to see you.”
“Me too.” I could see enough of her torso to tell she wasn’t wearing her usual home clothes, but a nice top. And she wore makeup, which she never did when working at home. The question slipped before I could think about what I was saying. And implying. “You look great, are you meeting someone?” She did look great, she always did, but this wasn’t just her usual “I’m hanging out at home” great.
“Mhmm. Gina and I are going out for lunch after this call.” Sophia pulled a face. “Work’s quiet enough that I can take a break, and she said she was sick of me moping around missing you, so she’s forcing me out into the public for, and I quote, a cheering-up session.”
“I miss you too. Like I knew I’d miss you but I didn’t realize I’d miss you.” Not having family now or a real friend network, I was clueless about how much I’d be affected by having someone back home waiting for me. Someone I wanted to see in person, to touch and smell and taste. But I couldn’t do any of those things, and it was torture.
“I think that’s a compliment,” she deadpanned.
“It is! So…if you’re going out, does this mean video sex is out of the question? I even put on my sexiest sweatpants for you.”
“Now I’m imagining your ass in sweatpants…” Sophia licked her lower lip. “Maybe I should cancel this lunch and we can spend some quality time together. That would qualify as a cheering-up session, wouldn’t it?”
“It would,” I agreed. “But I like the idea of you spending time with friends. It makes me less worried about you being lonely.”
“Fine,” she grumbled. “Maybe I should call when I get back from lunch and we can talk some more about your ass in sweatpants.”
“Maybe you should.” We both smiled at that. I’d be dead asleep and we both knew it.
Sophia hmmed. “So, what’s going on? How’s work?”
“Work’s good.” If I ignored the whole Elaheh situation, that is. “We got a treadmill tonight, so I can run!” Frowning, I amended, “Kind of run. It sounds like a plane struggling to take off and I think it’s going to be rough as hell on my joints, but it’s better than nothing.”
“Oof, be careful then. Please,” she begged, mild panic lacing her expression. “I don’t want you coming home with a broken ankle or wrist or nose or something.”
“Noted. Though the idea of you playing nurse is appealing.”
Sophia’s rich laugh filled my bedroom. “If you’re lucky, I’ll do that for you anyway when you come back. Uniform and all.”
My libido sat up. “Then I hope I’m lucky.”
Her mmhmm of agreement made my libido roll over and beg. The image tilted for a moment then settled again, now showing a little more cleavage. Damn. Sophia smirked, obviously aware of the effect the view was having on me.
Her expression went dreamy, faraway, and when I asked what she was thinking, Sophia said, “I was thinking about you and your morning workouts last night. That first morning when I woke up and you were on the floor and you looked so sexy, all flexible and strong.”
I hadn’t felt anything but stressed at the time, but I was glad she’d enjoyed it at least. “I could film a workout for you,” I offered. “Or we could flip our call times by twelve hours and we can video call the whole thing.” Laughing, I admitted, “Though it’s not so much sexy at the moment as it is clumsy in my small space.”
“I’ll take clumsy. How’re things working out with having a roommate?” she asked. “You two still getting along okay?”
“Yeah, it’s fine.” I’d given her some bare-bones of my current living and working situation, but I couldn’t tell her anything about Jeff. I hadn’t even told her his name, because I didn’t know how private he was about his identity. I made myself smile. “He’s pretty inoffensive, but definitely not who I’d have chosen for a roommate.”
“Well it’s not who I’d have chosen for you either.” She opened her mouth, then just as quickly closed it. A quick headshake and she tried again. “What else is happening?”
“Nothing much. Working, eating great food, thinking about you. Basically just like when I’m home.” But I wasn’t home. And the constant reminder of that was a sharp ache that I couldn’t rid myself of, no matter how much I tried or how much I thought things were getting easier.
“Have you done any more exploring or shopping or anything like that?” She asked me that question nearly every call, like she was desperate for me to be enjoying myself.
“There’s not really much time for me to do that,” I said evasively, and also a little snappier than I’d meant to be because I’d had to quickly think of something softer than “It’s not safe and my secret boss told me to stay alive.” I tried for a gentler tone. And a touch of honesty. “It’s not really the kind of place I like to be out and about alone. I mean I’m sure it’s fine, and I see local women out alone all the time. I…it’s not that I feel unsafe so much as uncomfortable, untrusting because of…last time I was in the region.” I smiled, stretching my cheeks to try to make it seem less forced. “And I’ve had my fill of discomfort for this decade.”
“That’s understandable. Do you want to talk about how you’re feeling?”
I waved her off, not wanting to spend our brief time together dissecting my feelings, which were vast enough to fill a galaxy. “It’s fine, really. I mean, we go out together, hit up the markets, take walks and stuff.”
