13. Avery
AVERY
PLAYLIST: UPRISING – MUSE
“You’re being watched,” tells Rossi me on the phone.
“I know,” I say. It’s the sixteenth day I registered the tail outside. Sometimes it’s agents, sometimes her. “She doesn’t trust me, and she does well not to, but I mean, she could at least be a little subtle.”
“That woman isn’t subtle,” says Rossi. “She’s like all the federal suits: stubborn, brilliant, constrained by procedure.”
I laugh. I love Rossi’s comments because he just says things as they are without walking around them with his unbelievably dry humor.
“You might need to lie a little low,” I tell him.
“They won’t figure out a thing. She looked me straight in the eyes, not for the first occasion, and didn’t realize it.”
“When were the other times?”
“When I repaired that dripping tap in her apartment to place the mic.”
“Right, she was there that day,” I say. “That was so close.”
“And yet, everything went well,” he says. “I thought, a wine later? I got a new one, you have to try it. It’s from…um…Omar.”
“Don’t tell me you two are back together again,” I say and roll my eyes, because I was forced to watch all thirteen seasons of Rossi and Omar in live and ultra high definition. Not to forget the daily session of therapy I had with him.
“Well,” he says.
“Rossi!” I shout. “Do I have to remind you that the last time you broke up, you made me swear I would drown you if you ever so much as try to call him?”
“I know,” Rossi say. “But he brought me flowers. 152 red roses.”
I rub my eyes because I’d rather scratch them out at this point.
“You will not fuck with him,” I say. “If I so much as hear that your dick was in one of his openings, I swear to God, Rossi, I will kick your ass all the way downtown and throw you from a ferry.”
There is a moment of silence, a moment too much.
“He’s there, isn’t he?” I say.
I don’t even need to wait for an answer.
“Are you doing it right now?!” I shout into the speaker.
“Pssst,” says Rossi, “We have listening ears.”
“OMAR!” I now roar through the speaker so he can hear it. “If I so much as hear one word about you walking out on him ever again, I am going to murder you by hanging you in pieces from the Empire State Building!”
Rossi laughs.
“Omar can’t really talk right now,” he says, and I suck in my lips because there are things I want to say that I can’t say, because it’s Rossi.
“Rossi, for heaven’s sake, I love you, but you are the most deranged person I know. After me. Call me when you’re done and shower before. I don’t want dick smell near me.”
With that, I hang up and walk up to the window front, where I stare outside.
Damnit, Rossi. You stupid little fucker, I curse in my mind, because I know where this will end. Exactly where all the other seasons have ended. In tears and heartbreak and endless hours of Rossi practically living in my bed because he can’t deal with his emotions.
Anger finds its way to my chest as I stare outside the windows.
I am nowhere near finding out where Hedda is, and the Oligargh ran into a dead end. Reid is having me followed. And now Rossi.
I must say, I have underestimated Reid. She is much sharper than I originally thought. She is onto me, and I need to be very careful that all of it doesn’t blow up in my face.
And that’s the moment Rossi decides to get sidetracked with his toyboy.
What I need is action. I need something to happen, something that brings me back in power.
Hedda. I need to find Hedda and the hat.
The hat.
A stitch in my chest.
Because I didn’t find the hat, but let a woman kiss me.
My gaze wanders automatically up into the sky.
Hedda, focus on finding Hedda, I tell myself.
I turn back to the project I have been keeping myself busy with.
I emptied a wall and wrote down everything I knew Hedda had in her possession. I also hung every article and mugshot I could get, listed her associates, connections, and everything else I know connected to her into one big picture that shows where she has been and what she has done.
I also dived into the underworld, searching for a broker I once did a deal with, and bribed him to let me know when the hat surfaces.
Now, I stare at my work for the fifth day in a row, and I am none the wiser in any way.
It’s when I decide there is only one way to find Hedda.
I have to use the FBI.
Together, we can get to her.
I sigh as I grab the phone from my pocket and dial Shaw’s number.
“Why don’t you come upstairs?” I ask her.
“Uhm,” she says.
“Don’t think I know you’re watching me?”
“No,” she says.
“Yeah, be better. A blind person can see you lingering outside. Grab a sandwich from Hormuz around the corner, avocado for me, tell him it’s for Alaire, he’ll know.
I’ll open when you’re back,” I say as I stare at my artwork, and add, “I want to show you something,” because she seems to be slightly taken aback.
“Anything else?” she asks. “A dragon wing on a silver platter, maybe?”
“Avocado sandwich is fine; make sure to get one yourself, too. I am done dealing with the hangry version of you.”
“You know,” she says dismissively, “Whatever it is, you can show me tomorrow or whenever else you decide to move your entitled ass back into the office, and I am willing to see your arrogant face again.”
“Shaw,” I say sternly. “You wanna see this.”
“No, I don’t. What I want is to sit here in quiet and wait for you to mess up your deal,” she shoots at me.
“How old are you? Four? Seriously, get your ass up here with the sandwiches, or I won’t show you anything.”
With that, I hang up.
I mean, seriously.
“Seriously!”
I am mildly surprised she stands in front of the entrance door outside twenty minutes later, because I thought she’d have more resistance, and it makes me suspicious.
I open the door for her, send the elevator downstairs with a swipe of the chip, and then I wait, leaning against the door frame.
She arrives, pushes a brown bag with sandwiches into my hand, and looks as moody as it can get.
“You will not make me fetch food ever again,” she says angrily.
“Is that a promise?” I ask, knowing I will most certainly make her do it again, now more than ever.
“So, what do you want to show me?” she says in a business voice.
“Let’s eat first,” I say. “Do you want wine?”
“I am working,” she snaps at me.
“And?”
“I don’t drink when working!”
“Too bad,” I say, ignoring her attitude. “I don’t have anything else.”
“Did I ask you for anything?”
“No,” I say, “I am trying to be nice here.”
She looks at me. I surprised her.
“Oh,” she says. “Well. Thank you, but I am not thirsty.”
One sentence and she purrs like a kitten. Fabulous.
“Here,” I say and hand her the sandwich that isn’t avocado. “Eat.” I sit down with mine on the floor, unwrap it and bite into it.
I didn’t know I was hungry until I smelled it. I have been so busy the last few days that I have mostly forgotten to eat or drink until I was in bed and everything was quiet.
She is rather disturbed by me sitting on the floor.
“Don’t you have a table?”
“No,” I say. “Don’t need one. I don’t have friends over, and I don’t cook, so why would I need one?”
“But—“
“But what? What else do I need a table for?”
She bites her lips to keep a comment from coming out of her mouth, and I laugh out loud with a full mouth.
“Don’t hold back,” I tell her. “Seriously, you have humor and try to hide it from me.”
“It was inappropriate,” she says.
“I am inappropriate all day, no judgment here.”
She eyes me for a second.
“Where do you have feral sex if there’s no table?” she says. It is too easy, and I wouldn’t have caught it if she hadn’t started watching me. She is trying to get close to me, making me trust her.
Who’s the manipulating liar now?
“Personally, I like my girl hanging from the ceiling, immobilized and tied up,” I say, because manipulation is a game I have learned from the cradle. I also love being inappropriate. And I know she is too uptight to have anything to answer for what I just said.
And sure enough, her eyes flash up, she sees the ceiling hooks, and blushes.
I have rendered her speechless once more, because she averts her eyes from the ceiling and is suddenly very interested in her sandwich.
I let her sit in silence until she has finished the sandwich.
“So, I ate. You wanted to show me something?” she then says.
“Yes,” I say, and it occurs to me that I can use the entire thing to make her believe I am trusting her. “What I am about to show you is the most honest I have ever been with you,” I say. “So please, handle it with care.”
Her eyes flicker slightly in anticipation.
Like I said, so easy.