Chapter Twenty-One #2
I’m scrambling for what to say when, in the weirdest coincidence of all time, my phone buzzes. I glance at the screen in an irrational hope that someone will have texted me the right answer.
“Ethan?” I tap the screen to open his message.
ur in luck heading to LA Tues we can hook up
Definitely Ethan, thank fuck. He never met a punctuation mark he couldn’t ignore.
“Yeah, I’m working on a bunch of stuff.” I glance up to find everyone still staring at me.
“You know, hacking’s not really my strength.
The other day I texted a guy I know who works in computer security.
He’s what they call a white hat hacker, and if anyone can unravel this, it’s him. ”
Rob leans forward, mirroring Sonny’s chin-on-knuckles position. “You’re planning to just explain our little predicament to a stranger and ask him nicely to help?”
His tone is a lot sharper than his expression, and I need to think quick or I’m going to be in trouble.
I lean back in my seat to show him he’s not intimidating me, although if it weren’t for the alpha wolf at my side, Rob would have freaked me right the fuck out.
“I was actually thinking I’d introduce him to you, and if you like him, I can give him a brief overview of the situation.
Then”—I give a one-shoulder shrug because still not freaked out, see?
— “depending on how he responds, I’ll go into more detail. ”
Rob doesn’t say anything, and there’s enough tension flying around the room that everyone else seems to be waiting for a shoe to drop or the sky to fall or something. John rests his arm around my shoulders, heavy, strong, and comforting, so I don’t run screaming from the room.
The silence goes on long enough that I have to keep talking before something bad really does happen.
“Look, tech is a big-ass field, and there are as many different ways to construct a computer science degree as there are schools offering them. My focus has always been on how people interact with computers rather than the nitty-gritty of how the software works. I’ve done some preliminary work here, but at the very least I need to talk to someone who has a better understanding of the process than I do. ”
Nodding in a way that lowers the temperature of the room, Rob says, “And your friend can do that?”
“Yes.” I hope.
“Can’t you just text him a couple questions or send him an email?” Sonny asks, still holding on to some of the tension.
“No, because I don’t want anybody to know the crazy shit y’all are trying, and texts and emails are discoverable.
” I say it lightly, like I’m joking, but I’m really, really not.
And I’m not going to use an encrypted app, because honestly, I want to look at Ethan if and when I tell him what we really need. It’s a trust thing.
John’s subtle squeeze lets me know I scored a point, and after sharing a long glance with Sonny, Rob gives me a muted smile. “Sure. I’ll meet with your friend, so long as you arrange for it to be someplace besides here.”
“I can do that.”
I can, and I will. There are still a ton of things I don’t know, like how Tucker and Alec—Jameson fucking McCoy—fit into the group, why no one has spoken Traitor Dude’s name, and how the hell we’re going to break into Leander de Lisle’s bank account. Accounts. Brokerage . . .whatever.
Oh, and what comes after that?
John and I share a glance, and the confidence in his dark eyes and craggy smile makes those questions a lot less relevant—or at least leaves me feeling like I’m not alone in this.
At some point I’m going to have to, I don’t know, take David out to lunch or something. Just to hang out for the first time in a long, long time. In the meantime, the mark John put on my shoulder this morning burns just a little, a reminder of what we are to each other. Of what we will be.
Don’t know what John sees in me, but I’m grateful for this thing between us, and I aim to prove to him that he’s not as old as he thinks he is.
Age is just a number, no matter how you’re measuring the years.
Hi! I hope you enjoyed your time with Marcus and John. There’s more to their story—you know there is!—and it’s an epilogue or even a novella. I mean, if nothing else, they need to figure out if Marcus can WFH (work from home) when home is in the Greenwood. But . . .
But . . .