“Just so we’re clear. If you want anything related to baseball, Hudson is your guy. If you want someone to disappear without a trace, G.I. Joe here is your man.” He points at Seamus and I don’t miss the slight wince in his expression. It hits me that I’ve learned nothing about what Seamus has done since we saw each other last, and I hate that I know nothingabout him. “And for anything else, I’m your guy. Jack of all trades, master of none, at your service.” He finishes with a head bow.
“Great to know, I’ll keep…all of that…” I glance between Hudson and Seamus, “in mind.” I can’t help but relax around this group. It’s apparent they are close. Well Hudson, Ember, and Cruz are. Seamus is still as legible as a brown paper bag, but I’m finding my anger and bitterness of the past years begin to fade and warp into a curiosity of sorts.
“Em, our afternoon meeting moved up an hour, so I’ll be joining you for lunch with Hudson—because I’m not functional when I’m hungry, and I need to eat,” Cruz says factually.
“Oh, but I still have to give Naomi a tour and coordinate her schedule,” Ember replies as she takes out her phone.
“I’ll do it.” Seamus’ response is lightning speed.
The group falls silent and everyone looks at each other.
“Come on.” Seamus doesn’t give anyone else a chance to rebuttal as he steps outside our circle and holds his arm out toward the back of the club.
I pause, looking at the gap that Seamus has opened up, and then back at Ember. A part of me wants to continue to play hard to get, like I’ve been the last few days, but I’m tired of ignoring his presence and my curiosity is way too strong.
“Will that be okay, Naomi? I can call you later to work out the details of the schedule?” Ember asks, a bit unsure.
“Absolutely, it’s no problem at all.” I step over and give her a hug. It’s inappropriate for an interview, but I’m a hugger and I’m over all the handshakes. “Great to meet you guys.” I step back and wave to Hudson and Cruz as I walk past Seamus.
“I see you still can’t resist me, Rambo,” I say playfully, but loud enough for the group to hear. Because giving Seamus shit is going to be my new favorite hobby.
His gaze lasers through me as I walk by. Is he angry? Absolutely. But that desire that drives him is brighter than the lights inTimes Square, blaring through to every cell in my body. A shiver runs down my spine and goosebumps erupt all over my body.
A tiny part of me is worried I may be playing out of my league with him right now, because figuring him out won’t be like it was when we were younger. If I’ve realized anything since the moment I saw him again, is that he’s had more life experience in the last ten years than most people have in a lifetime. I can see that in his stoic expression, the apprehension of his demeanor, and the way he carries himself.
“Did you just call himRambo? That’s the most accurate thing I’ve ever heard in my life.” Cruz has zero filter, while Ember and Hudson are speechless as I retreat. I smile over my shoulder and wave again, because I know his nickname is perfect, and I hope with everything I have they use it on him now, too.
I head toward the back of the club and arrive at the first glass window that overlooks one of the voyeur rooms. I remember this from my first time here, and I remember being completely mesmerized by the couple on the other side of it.
The room is now sparkling clean and empty, but a tingling sensation rolls over my body from the recollection of what I witnessed behind it.
Speaking of tingling, I don’t need to look behind me to know that Seamus is right on my heels. It’s the same feeling I’ve sensed since he has arrived back in my life, like he’s unable to stay too far away.
My eyes catch his reflection in the expansive, sheen windows. For a brief moment, I see the shadow of the boy I knew years ago, and I can’t help the small curve to my lips from forming as I recall how awkward he was. But even with those lean, lanky limbs and shaggy, out of control hair, there was something about him. A will, a drive, an undeniable pull.
It feels the same now.
I’ve come to the conclusion that Seamus is in security, beingthat he runs it here at Afterburn, but Cruz referred to him as a G.I. Joe, and I feel the need to dive into that.
“G.I. Joe, huh?” I insinuate the question, turning around to face him.
“Don’t listen to Cruz.”
“Is he right?”
“Not really.”
“What does that mean?”
“That I’m not a G.I. Joe.”
Well, yeah. I roll my eyes because he’s not a green plastic stick figure or a boys’ version of a Barbie doll. Although he would make a pretty hot military Ken doll.
I digress.
“Okay, but you were in the military?” I ask cautiously, because I know while some people are proud, others can be bitter.
He nods, but doesn’t reply.
