Chapter 3 Anthony
Anthony
The box cutter slices through tape with a satisfying rip, revealing stacks of books I haven’t seen in months.
I inhale the familiar scent of paper and binding glue, running my fingers over spines that feel like old friends.
After living out of a duffel bag for so long, these books are the first things that make this place feel like mine.
This townhouse with its bay view and empty rooms. A blank slate.
A fresh start. No one knows me here yet.
“Jesus, Tony, how many books did you ship back?” Mia asks, peering over my shoulder. Her long black hair falls forward as she leans in, examining the titles. “You know e-readers exist for a reason.”
“Had one. Got broken on my last mission.” I don’t elaborate. Don’t tell her how the device shattered when I hurled it against a wall after failing to extract a victim before the corrupt local authorities arrived. Some details my sister doesn’t need to know.
“Of course it did.” She rolls her eyes, but there’s affection there. Mia’s always understood me better than most, even if she only sees the parts I let her see. “You’re hell on electronics.”
I straighten, surveying the living room.
Boxes stacked in precise formation against the far wall.
Furniture arranged exactly as I’d specified to the movers.
The sliding glass door leading to the balcony offers a perfect view of Assateague Bay, waves lapping gently at the shore beneath the stilts that elevate the townhouse. I could watch those waves for hours.
“So this is home now?” Mia asks, breaking my trance. She’s unpacking dishes in the kitchen, placing them in cabinets with no discernible system. I’ll reorganize them later when she’s gone.
“For now.” I don’t commit to permanence. Never have. But something about this place feels right. The isolation. The view. The proximity to family. “At least until the next mission.”
“Which hopefully won’t be for a while,” she says pointedly. “You promised you’d stay local for a few months this time.”
I grunt in acknowledgment, not making promises I might break. Instead, I focus on arranging my books alphabetically by author on the built-in shelves flanking the gas fireplace. Each spine aligned perfectly with the edge. The system bringing order to chaos.
“Did you hear me?” Mia presses, stepping into my line of sight. “You said you were taking a break from international work.”
I look up at her, forcing a smile. “I am. GameStream needs attention,” I don’t tell her about the mysterious murdering uploader.
The gaming platform generates substantial revenue without much input from me, the perfect cover for my other activities.
Mia’s face softens. “Good. I’ve missed having my big brother around.”
“Missed you too.”
We work in companionable silence for the next several hours.
Periodically making small talk. I arrange my belongings with military precision while Mia flits from task to task, her organization system more intuitive than methodical.
It should irritate me, but with Mia, I’ve learned to let go of control. Mostly.
“Pizza should be here soon,” she announces, checking her phone. “I ordered from that place on Coastal Highway you liked last time you visited.”
“The one with the garlic knots?”
“Is there any other worth ordering from?” She grins, collapsing dramatically onto my new couch. “God, this thing is comfortable. Much better than that torture device you had in your last place.”
“That was a perfectly functional sofa,” I argue, joining her on the cushions.
She’s right though, this one is better. I researched for weeks before purchasing, reading every review, considering every angle.
The perfect blend of comfort and support.
A place where someone could sit for hours, feel at ease enough to let their guard down.
The doorbell interrupts my thoughts. Mia jumps up, waving away my wallet. “My treat. Housewarming gift.”
While she pays for the pizza, I grab two plates from the kitchen, white ceramic, simple and sturdy.
No unnecessary decoration. The wine glasses I unpack next are similarly utilitarian, but high quality.
I pour us each a glass of cabernet, not too much for Mia since she’s driving, even if it is only a few blocks.
“This view is incredible,” Mia says when she returns, setting the pizza box on the coffee table.
She moves to the sliding glass door, staring out at the bay.
The sun still high in the summer sky, making the water glimmer in white and gold flowing patterns.
“How did you get this place? I didn’t know it was for sale. ”
Her own townhouse doesn’t face the bay, but she still has community access to the water.
“Patience,” I answer simply. What I don’t say: I’ve had my eye on this townhouse for months. Monitored the market, waited for the price to drop, arranged for the previous owners to receive a too-good-to-refuse job offer out of state. Some things require a little time.
We settle on the couch with our pizza and wine. The first bite tastes like heaven after months of bland military rations and questionable local cuisine in countries where clean water is a luxury.
“So,” Mia says between bites, “you’re officially on business duty now? The GameStream offices missed their fearless leader.”
I shake my head. “I’ll check in tomorrow, but everything’s running smoothly. The management team handled things well while I was gone.” Another truth with convenient omissions. The platform practically runs itself, though some things have gone under the radar for too long.
“And the search and rescue work? Taking a real break from that too?”
I take a long sip of wine before answering. “For now. The last mission was... difficult.” Images flash unbidden. Terrified eyes, blood-stained concrete, the scent of fear so thick you could choke on it. “Sometimes you can’t save everyone.”
Mia reaches over and squeezes my hand. “You can’t carry the weight of the world, Tony. You’ve done more than most people ever will.”
If only she knew the real weight I carry.
“Enough about my work,” I deflect. “How’s the print shop?”
Her face lights up, and I feel a genuine surge of pride. My little sister, the business owner. Building something real while I’ve been playing savior in countries whose names most Americans can’t pronounce.
“By the Bay is doing amazing,” she gushes. “We just landed the contract for all the resort’s printing needs, brochures, menus, event flyers, the works. It’s going to boost our revenue by at least thirty percent.”
“That’s fantastic, Mia.” I raise my glass in toast. “I’m so proud of you for owning your own business. Really. You’ve built something special.”
She beams at the praise, tucking her hair behind her ear, a gesture she’s done since childhood. “I couldn’t have done it without the loan you gave me for the down payment.”
I wave away her gratitude. “Best investment I ever made. You paid it back in record time.”
“Still.” She takes another slice of pizza. “Speaking of the shop, you should stop by sometime. Meet my friends. They practically run the place with me.”
Something in her tone catches my attention. The slight emphasis on “friends,” the casual way she drops it into conversation. My sister is many things, but subtle isn’t one of them.
“Trying to set me up again, Mia?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
She laughs, not denying it. “Maybe. You’ve been gone so long, and you’re not getting any younger. Thirty-two and still married to your work.”
“I’m not looking for a relationship,” I say firmly.
“You don’t have to marry them,” she persists. “Just meet them. My friends are amazing. Smart, funny, hardworking. And one is single, by the way.”
“I need to get settled first,” I demur. “Maybe next week. Besides, I need to visit the bookstore and grab some new books since my e-reader is broken.”
Mia perks up at this, leaning forward eagerly. “Oh! You should definitely talk to my friends then. They’re both avid readers.”
“What kind of books?” I ask casually.
“One’s into dark romance mostly, the darker the better. The other reads everything, but she’s been on a fantasy kick lately.” Mia grabs another slice of pizza. “They might even read similar stuff to you. What are you into these days? Still those psychological thrillers?”
I nod, mind racing. Dark romance. Darkness calling to darkness. “Among other things. I’ve been branching out.”
“Well, if you’re heading to the bookstore anyway, you might run into one of them.
They’re there all the time.” Mia says this offhandedly, unaware of how the information electrifies me.
“One has this amazing book collection at home, an entire library room.
Her husband is always giving her shit about it.
Even though she told me all he does is play and stream brain rot games all day when he's home.”
“He sounds like a winner,” I say sarcastically, masking the surge of interest. “And your other friend?”
“She co-owns the print shop with me. She’s amazing, completely independent, takes no shit from anyone.” Mia gestures with her wineglass. “You’d like her.”
Mia purposely leaving out their names. I know it’s because she wants me to come check out her business.
I make an appropriately interested noise, but my mind is elsewhere. Cataloging the new information. The dark romance reader. Married to an asshole who streams video games. Does he use GameStream? I’ll need to check our user database. A library room full of books. Bookstore on Sunset Boulevard.
“What about you?” I ask, redirecting. “Still reading those self-help books?”
Mia groans, rolling her eyes. “Don’t make fun. They’ve helped me a lot.”
“I’m not making fun,” I say sincerely. “They’ve helped you be more self-awareness, to grow and succeed. That’s what matters.”
She studies me suspiciously, then relaxes when she sees I’m not mocking her. “Yeah, well, not everyone can read dense Russian literature for fun like you.”
“Dostoevsky understood the human condition better than most modern writers,” I shrug, finishing my wine. “Crime and Punishment is essentially the original psychological thriller.”
“If you say so, Professor Literature,” she teases, checking her watch. “I should probably head out soon. Early day tomorrow.”
I nod, standing to clear our plates. “Thanks for helping me unpack. And for the pizza.”
“That’s what sisters are for.” She rises, gathering her purse and keys. “Think about what I said, okay? About stopping by the shop. No pressure, but it would be nice to introduce you to the important people in my life.”
“I will,” I promise.
At the door, Mia hugs me tightly. “I’m glad you’re home, Tony. For however long it lasts.”
I return the embrace, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo. “Me too,”
After she leaves, I stand at the sliding glass door, taking in my the view of my new home. I wonder about the unnamed woman and can’t answer my own questions. Why is this person so fascinating to me when I know nothing about her? Not a name, a face, anything.
I turn back to the half-unpacked living room, my eyes falling on my laptop bag. There’s research to be done now. GameStream users nearby to find. A bookstore on Sunset Boulevard to visit.