Chapter 23
23
William
Sleep eluded me last night, so I did what I always do when I toss and turn for more than an hour. I got out of bed around three a.m., dressed, and hit the ground running.
I wasn’t wearing a suit and sitting in my office in the dead of night plotting my next move with any of my current clients.
Instead, I put on my running gear, which consists of shorts, a T-shirt Bauer left behind when he crashed at my penthouse one night, and the same sneakers I’ve worn during my workouts for years.
True to the saying, New York never sleeps, but its natural roar quiets when darkness falls over the city. The incessant sound of drivers battling each other with their car or truck horns lessens. The pedestrian traffic on the sidewalk thins enough that I can run without fear of mowing someone down, although I still always call out a warning that I’m approaching from behind.
I ran my usual route until I needed a break and ducked into a bodega that is open all hours and owned by a friend. He graciously added a bottle of water to my tab. I promised I’d be back later today to clear that, and then I was on my way again.
Now, as the sun begins its rise over Manhattan, I’m sitting on a bench in Central Park watching three pigeons dance around a dusting of breadcrumbs left by a guy who must have a supply in his jacket pocket because he scattered another handful less than ten feet away which attracted yet another trio of birds toward their morning meal.
“What the fuck are you doing out here at this hour, William?”
I chuckle even before I look to my left and find my brother standing a few feet away. I can’t say I’m surprised. We used to run this route together every morning until my demanding work schedule ended that.
It’s obvious he’s been running, too, but he didn’t bother with a shirt, and his phone is strapped to his bicep.
When Bauer designed his first tattoo when he was fourteen, he asked me to forge the parental consent form. I would have done it, but by the time I met up with him to scribble my dad’s name on the form, my brother was already sporting the ink on his bicep. I asked how he got it done without a signature, but he just shrugged, laughed, and wore long sleeves for months.
“I’m doing the same thing you are,” I nod toward my attire. “I was smart enough to leave my phone at home.”
“That’s why you ignored the two texts I sent you this morning.” He taps his phone. “You need to be reachable. What if it was an emergency?”
“Was it?” I question back, not bothering to mention that leaving my phone on my nightstand was an oversight. I meant to bring it, but my mind was focused on one thing when I set out on my run, and the phone wasn’t it.
Opal was it.
“Scout seemed to think it was.” He motions for me to slide to the left so he can sit beside me.
I do just that, scooting over to give him the room he needs on the bench. “What’s that about Scout?”
He glances toward the pigeons before he drags a hand through his hair. “She called me last night and said you’re all torn up about a woman. She wanted me to fill in the blanks for her.”
I chuckle. “Did you consider that our dear little sister might have blown things out of proportion?”
“Scout?” He cocks one eyebrow. “Blow things out of proportion? It’s hard to imagine her doing that.”
We laugh in unison because Scout cares to the point of injecting herself into every problem she thinks exists, whether one does or not.
“Is the reason you’re out here at this hour because you’re thinking about a woman?” His voice softens. “I haven’t been able to convince you to run with me before work for months.”
He’s being gracious since it’s more like years.
I glance at him. “I’m thinking about a woman.”
“It’s serious?”
“No,” I answer honestly. “I just met her, but…”
“But you feel something for her?” he asks.
I nod. “Something, but there’s a barrier. It’s a work thing.”
He pats my shoulder. “I get it. She works for the CIA, too.”
I scrub a hand over my face while holding in a laugh. “You do know that Calder wasn’t serious when he told you that.”
Calder Frost is my oldest friend, and for a time, he was my brother’s mentor. A few years ago, Calder was determined to uncover exactly what I do for a living. Whenever I’d visit his art studio to check out his metal sculptures, he’d toss questions at me left and right about my job. The suggestion that I worked for the Central Intelligence Agency took me by surprise enough that I didn’t answer with a resounding no immediately. I paused for at least three or four seconds. Calder took that to mean that there was a good chance I was employed by the federal government.
I assured him that my daily focus was on helping men become the partners the women in this city deserve. It took a bit, but he finally dropped the CIA talk and took me at my word.
“I know.” Bauer nods. “By the way, Calder says hi. They’re hanging out in Spain this month.”
They being Calder and his wife, Raelyn.
Calder didn’t need my help in finding the love of his life. They crossed paths on a wintry Manhattan evening, and the rest is history. Knowing he’s happy and traveling with the woman he loves is enough to put a smile on my face.
“I’ll text him today,” I say aloud, making a mental note to do just that.
“I know Calder is the guy you usually go to when you have a problem,” he says, assuming something that isn’t grounded in reality.
I’ve always dealt with personal problems on my own.
“But I’m happy to step in as his proxy,” he offers. “Truth be told, I thought there was a slim chance I might find you on our running route, so I set off a few minutes early this morning. I’m glad I did.”
“Am I that predictable?” I ask, swiping my hand over my forehead.
“You run to burn off stress,” he notes. “So share that stress. Let me help you figure this out, William.”
I’m so damn tempted to take him up on his offer, but I can’t. I need to trudge through this on my own.
“I have a better idea.” I move to stand. “I’ll race you to your place. Whoever gets there first gets to order breakfast on the other’s dime.”
He’s on his feet, too. “I’m craving lobster eggs benedict, so there’s no way in hell you’re winning this.”