I never got to tell Ziggy that she wouldstill feel “dick” if the man used a condom because she hung up onme. Max shared that Ziggy stormed out two minutes after throwingMax’s phone at her. She hasn’t heard from Ziggy since, and hadtried to reach her without success. I’ve been assured that if mycrazy cousin doesn’t surface by this weekend, Max is pulling outthe big guns and will tell Ziggy’s older brothers, Isak and Endre,that their sister has ghosted and Max is worried about her.
Tactically, it’s a better move to sic ’em onZiggy without knowing why she’s disappeared. Those boys tend to bea little extreme when it comes to their younger sister, and Maxwants everyone to avoid bloodshed and jail time.
Obviously, I concurred.
Ross,
Your assessment has proved accurate. My babymama cousin didn’t want our opinions or advice, isn’t returning ourcalls, and hasn’t shown up at her usual haunts. She’s done thisbefore, but typically she resurfaces after a week or so. We’reconcerned enough to tell her older brothers she’s dropped out ofsight. We’re confident they’ll find her.
Thanks for the treats suggestion. I’ve takenyour advice, and so far so good. Though, you’re right, it’s in hisnature to scavenge. Boo sure loves stinky smells. Sometimes he getsin full rolls before I can pull him up. He hasn’t associatedgetting a bath, which he is not a fan of, with rolling in mess.
Spectator sports. I like tennis, butbaseball is my thing. It’s played in a park on a diamond when theweather is nice. It’s rare for someone to get hurt, and it takesskill, patience, and quiet strategy. Plus, all those wacky handsignals from the third base coach are fun to try to decipher. I’mloyal to my team and have season tickets. I almost never miss ahome game.
Non-spectator sports. Poker is my game. Idon’t play competitively, but I’m told I’m good enough to. I’ve sata few high-stakes games. They were tense and exciting. I can seethe allure of doing it competitively, but I don’t have a cutthroattemperament, which is essential once you enter that level ofplay.
What about you?
Flower
Boston, Massachusetts
Ethan
Intuition
“Hey,” someone calls as they walk by my desk.“Where are you, man?”
I swivel my chair to see Skip staring at melike I’d grown a second head. “Right here, brother. Whassup?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out.Something wrong?”
I give a quick headshake then, “Nope.”
“Then why were you fifty thousand miles away?I must’ve said ‘hey’ three times before you looked up.”
Shit. Flower on the brain. “Trying to piecetogether the best way to surveil the BU Russians.”
He gives a quick nod. “That’s why I came by.Team meeting with the ASAC in fifteen.”
“Conference room?”
“Yeah.” His chin aims to my iPad, indicatinghe wants me to bring my notes, then he heads toward his office.
I don’t dolost in thoughtat work.Actually, I don’t do it much, if at all. When I started The LetterClub thing, my intention had been to find someone to talk with whodidn’t drag on my time. Light, easy, make a friend, have aconnection. It’s hard to have female friends in general. It’s evenharder when you make your job your life.
Yeah, I know. That has to change. I spend toomuch time at work, where a small percentage of my colleagues arewomen – I don’t do the hiring so give it a rest – and the nature ofmy job doesn’t leave a lot of time to go for a beer after work. Ihave no time to meet someone I can hang with who doesn’t have aninterest in working my body, and vice versa.
Unexpected, and way too distracting, is thisfeeling of being drawn to a woman I can’t talk to or see, but whosepull is undeniable. She writes things like “wacky hand signals” inthe same letter she discloses she’s a card shark. She has me dyingto taste whatever food she’d cook for me, wishing I could hang onher back patio with her and Boo, and worrying about a fuckin’ crazycousin Ireallydon’t know.
Now, instead of rubbing one out in the showerbefore I go to sleep, I’m thirteen years old again, lying in bedwith my hand on my dick imagining what she looks like – don’t askme how, I already know what she sounds like – while I go throughall the ways I intend to enjoy her body.
I have to back burner her and get my mind inthe game. The reason for this upcoming meeting has to mean we’re in“go” mode, and there’s no room for error with this shit.
Fifteen minutes later my ass is in a chair.My seven teammates, Skip, and the ASAC, a badass named RashadSilverton, are all sitting around a large oblong conference tablein a darkened, closed-door room. Rashad, at the far end of thetable, has a laptop open and he’s clicking through images thatappear on the big screen behind him.
“This is what we have so far. No sign of theolder guy Jonas described,” a rendering of the guy flashed on thescreen, “but these are a dozen of the Russian ‘students’ we’vealready identified.” The candids on BU’s campus were lined upagainst passport photos and images taken at Logan Airport’sTerminal E. “We know for a fact three,” larger passport photos ofthree men appeared on the screen, “of the twelve have entered thecountry under assumed names. Surely false identities were createdto make a viable profile of an incoming or exchange student. We’refirming up which, and all the information provided to BU. Based onthese three,” head nod toward the screen, “we are presuming most,if not all, of the ‘students’ Jonas said gather in his dorm arefictitious, and are affiliated with the LebedevskyBratvaasare the three whose photos you see here.” Fuck. Seriously baddudes. “Their files have been sent to you.”
Skip picks up the narrative. “We’re ininformation gathering mode and there’s a lot of ground to cover.When we’re at a point where our analysts have gotten as much intelthat’s available on the suspects, we’ll put our operation in play.Working up to that, you become experts on these people, theirBratvaand their enemies. No holes, and no stoneunturned.”