Page 72 of Double Shot
I looked up and met Conan’s surprised green gaze and smiled.
“She’s alright, William. Poppet, what are you doing here?”
I smiled a little wider and looked back down at the floor, walked up to Conan and took his hand giving it a squeeze before letting it go and said softly, “Check mate.”
I stopped my watch. His smile was everything when he realized what I’d done.
“What a clever girl you are,” he said quietly, and I tipped my face up for a kiss. One that he gladly gave me.
“Come and meet the lads,” he said and drew me up beside him.
* * *
Conan wasn’t at allhappy when he realized I hadn’t brought my phone with me. We had a nice visit and breakfast with his friends. The topic of conversation had been somewhat steered by my presence. These men were all veterans, some had scars, and there were a few who were missing pieces. Some wore prosthetics, some didn’t hide the loss. They knew who I was, which was a thing.
Although it wasn’t precisely a surprise that Conan had spoken of me to his friends, it certainly was flattering and remained somewhat unexpected for parts of me. Wisely, Kyle was kept out of the equation which suited me just fine. While it wasn’t a secret, there was no need to advertise our status as a romantically involved triumvirate. Why invite any judgment or conflict where there didn’t need to be any?
They had pints of beer, some were eating, most weren’t. The conversations revolved around their military experience: Royal Navy, Royal Marines, Royal Airforce. Their pride was a deep thing, like the atmosphere of The Black Watch. Polished, ancient and ageless at the same time. They seem to trade stories of violence for the things they lost, or left behind. It was memories of their sweethearts and wives, how they’d missed them during their time away. Not every story had a happy ending but even with the bitter there was the sweet and some humor to be found with the passage of time in the darker moments.
We rose together after our goodbye’s and fingers linked stepped back into the daylight filtered by the overcast sky. Conan turned to me and I smiled up at him. “You’re not mad?” I asked, and he smiled back.
“Not at all, Poppet. Still about the phone, though.”
I felt my smile grow, and I shook my head slightly. “If I had my phone on me, how could I prove I didn’t just use my GPS?”
“Why would I disbelieve you?” he asked and tucked my hand in the crook of his arm.
I felt my smile grow, and I told him truthfully, “Oh, Conan. I don’t have anything to prove to you… this was honestly forme, I think. To prove tomyselfthat I can be capable.”
“I see,” he said simply, and he looked, I don’t know… pleased?
“And what would you have done were it not important to you to prove yourself?” he asked.
I shrugged and said, “Probably would have gone to the bookstore and perused the stacks,” I said honestly.
He nodded, and we sauntered along the sidewalk.
I finally asked. “I went right by you, right before you crossed to go into The Black Watch, you really didn’t notice me?”
He smiled and shook his head. “You blended perfectly with the public, my darling. I hadn’t noticed a thing.”
I felt my chest puff with pride and he laughed, putting an arm around me and pressing me into his side.
We went to the bookstore together and spent an hour or so in the stacks selecting a few books. I had my ID and a credit card in a pocket in the upper arm of one of my sleeves but he waved me off and paid for mine too.
I was trying to be better about actually spending a little money and about shopping for myself, but it was hard sometimes. Especially when I passed someone I recognized from the streets. There were times I felt like some kind of a sellout or something and others I simply felt grateful. Then there were the times I was shrouded in guilt right on the heels of that gratitude.
“Shit,” I whispered as we passed by Winthrop Park on the way back to the house on Phoenician Boulevard. I drew up short and stopped.
“What is it?” Conan asked, and I thrust my chin at the chess tables.
Hal was in the throes of one of his schizophrenic episodes, rocking back and forth violently as he eyed the pieces on the board in front of him, made his move, and hit the switch on the top of the clock.
“You know him?” Conan asked, and I nodded drifting a step in that direction. Conan hung back briefly, and I looked back at him with somber pleading eyes.
“He’s no threat despite all appearances, I promise you.”
He inclined his head slightly and came with me. There was a small crowd of spectators around the tables, their hands buried in their pockets against the late fall day as Hal’s opponent made a move. The young man paused when I called out softly, “Hal?”
