Chapter 17
CHAPTER 17
E zra sat on the wooden chair watching Dr. Black, a man with salt-and-pepper hair, clean his hands. His nose ached like a son of a bitch, and he worried about Chaz. He couldn’t figure out what bothered him more. The fact he couldn’t breathe right or that Chaz was alone and potentially getting into a lot of trouble.
Now he understood why April was so cagey about Chaz, especially since he was fairly local to him. Ezra hadn't wanted to rock the boat on a potential promotion, so he'd never asked. He’d been curious about Chaz for a while, and his excitement at having a hero within driving distance made the red flags go away. Now Chaz being considered a cleanup guy made sense. When in trouble, Chaz didn’t think his actions through. He reacted. And he said his jinx phrase every single time. Every time. Why hadn’t Ezra realized it? Why the hell wasn’t this in his file on the server? So much information was missing. Being on a cleanup crew as he was, it didn’t matter if he was a jinx. Working with Chaz on this mission, Ezra’s eyes opened, and the lack of details about Chaz became clear. Though today, Chaz wasn’t the bad luck magnet. It was him. Chaz was going to die, and it was because Ezra answered the phone to a wrong number.
He'd never answer the phone again. This whole situation was his fault.
“What’re you thinking about now?” Dr. Black asked as he rolled toward Ezra on his desk chair. He had a Q-tip in one hand and a cloth in another. “Your colour dropped.”
“I might have caused a death of a good friend,” Ezra stated. Yup, he was going to be a pariah around the SPAM water cooler. Or message boards. His first mission out in the world, and he'd killed their agent. He refused to consider the more personal issues, like his burgeoning feelings. His heart hurt from the giant hole growing there from imagining Chaz never being around to take him fishing. Chaz had been so happy when he was showing the fish he caught for Ezra’s sake.
Dr. Black arched an eyebrow as he examined Ezra visually before shaking his head. “You people are so dramatic. No one’s been killed or getting killed. This is a game.”
“Tell that to my nose,” Ezra snapped before cringing. The force of his words, as well as his own impoliteness, hurt. He wasn’t this person or confrontational.
“From what I heard; you tripped over a tree root. Anyone can do that.” He gently cleaned out Ezra’s nose, mindful of the swelling and bruising, before placing a bandage over the bridge. “You’re as good as I can make it. I’d like you to go to a proper facility to confirm nothing is broken.”
“I’ll be sure to do that once I’m allowed to leave.” Ezra touched the tip of his nose and winced. Who knew the nose was so delicate?
“Don’t aggravate it. You like breathing, right?”
“It’s one of my top ten things to do in life.” Ezra stripped off his bloody shirt and mopped his chest clean. Dr. Black passed him a green button-down shirt and helped ease it on. “Thank you, honestly.”
“No worries. It’s why I’m paid the big bucks. Now eat some light food and drink water. You’ve lost a lot of blood, and you probably haven’t had a real meal since yesterday?”
“How do you know?”
“Excuse me?”
“How do you know what I’ve eaten?” Ezra asked. Was he channeling Chaz’s inner bitch? He didn’t care. This whole adventure had gone topsy-turvy, and he was done. “Because… Mr. Jones and his team—of which I am a member—have been watching your adventures. You had snacks, which I’m surprised Mr. Adams remembered to bring. And some fish. It’s not a filling meal.”
“You mean… you watched…oh my God.” Ezra paled as he remembered what he and Chaz had done the previous night. With people seeing them. Was that the rustling they heard? Oh God. He was going to die of embarrassment now and never know the joys of having sex with Chaz. And if they ever got out of this scenario, Little Ezra was never going to come out of his shell because of this moment.
“Get your mind out of the gutter. God.” Dr. Black shuddered. “We’re not Peeping Toms. Gah. Sit tight. One of Mr. Jones’s men will arrive soon to take you to the main event.”
“What’s going on?” Ezra asked, stepping away from his gaffe. Of course, no one would spy on him. He was so inexperienced, and he was boring.
“I have no idea; I’m just the medic. Eat the fruit, drink the water and juice, and stay away from alcohol.” He left the medical office, and Ezra was alone for the first time since yesterday. He wasn’t sure if that was good or not. It gave him a moment to think. Was working with SPAM always like this? Ezra never thought of himself as an adventure guy, and this proved it. He was meant for car camping at a well-known facility with fantastic amenities. This was a zero stars vacation.
The door opened, and two hulking bruisers stepped in. Both were wearing black T-shirts and black cargo shorts. They had their arms crossed as they stared down at Ezra.
“Can I help you?”
A distorted expression on one man’s face appeared, and he spoke out of turn. “I was wondering, where is the best place to see the Flower Pot rocks? I thought since I was this far up the peninsula, I could take a look.”
“What are you doing, Hank?” his companion asked as he gazed at Hank with growing horror. “You ain’t supposed to talk to the marks.”
“Can’t help myself.” Hank grunted. “I know Tobermory is where you can see them, but how do you get up close?”
“There’s a tour boat?” Ezra answered blankly. Hank sat on the doctor’s chair and tilted his head to the side. Ezra met his eyes and shrugged.
“How come I never heard about tours?”
“It’s a hidden secret?” Ezra said. Dear God, what a time for a query. Was this what Chaz meant when he said Ezra was a shoo-in for SPAM? Normally, Ezra was at a bookstore when someone demanded answers about out-of-the-blue topics.
“I’ve been there! I’ve never seen that shit,” Hank whined. “The boss said we had some downtime, so I went up, and the town was crowded with tourists."
“Aren’t you a tourist?” The words came out before Ezra could stop them. The burning glare Hank sent him singed every single one of his hairs. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just… what would you like to know?”
“How do you get on the boats then?” Hank asked. His friend shifted uneasily on his feet, glancing at the door every couple of seconds. “Calm down, Max. Boss ain’t coming.”
“Fuck you, man. I don’t have time to play twenty questions when the boss said bring the beanpole.” Max paled, and he whipped his head toward the door once more. “He’s coming, Hank. Stand up, stand up!”
“But I’m not done?—”
“Mr. Smith, you appear to be in much better spirits than when I left you.” Mr. Jones ducked his head through the room’s entrance, and the small space shrank even more. “What’s going on? I believe I asked you two to escort Mr. Smith to the patio.”
“Dumbass here asked about going up to the Flower Pot rocks.” Max jerked his head toward Hank. Ezra was glad the attention was off him for a minute.
“You narc,” Hank hissed.
“Easy, easy. We’re all friends. Hank, my boy, there is a time and place for those questions, but not now.” Mr. Jones clicked his tongue, and the two bruisers drooped at the disappointment in Mr. Jones’s voice. “Anyway, Mr. Smith looks decent enough. Bring him to the main patio where he can have a front-row seat to our extraordinary show.”
Mr. Jones tipped his head, causing Max and Hank to leap into action. Ezra was hustled through the side yard and up a set of stairs to a lavishly decorated space. A dozen or so guests were mingling, all holding champagne flutes. They turned and stared as Ezra was brought in.
“Friends! Hello, hello! Don’t mind us. We’re just getting everything settled. The main attraction will start in fifteen minutes. Continue nibbling on your snacks and drinking the free alcohol. You’re definitely going to wish to stay for the next part. It’s going to make every other party seem drab.”
The crowd laughed as Mr. Jones wanted them to. Ezra soaked in the details. He recognized some people, but he couldn’t place faces to names. Ezra wondered if they were part of the evil league SPAM had their eye on. God, where was Chaz, and why wasn’t he being James Bond right now? All this villainous behaviour had Ezra’s nerves on the edge. Chaz made him safe.
“Mr. Smith, you’re to rest on the lounge chair. Sarah will bring you a drink and a plate of nibblies. You are not to move from that spot, or Mr. Adams’s blood will be on your hands.”
Ezra’s stomach dropped. He hadn’t planned on exploring, but what if he had to go to the bathroom? Mr. Jones wouldn’t be pleased if he wet himself, but could he ask to relieve himself, and would that constitute as moving? Chaz’s life depended on Ezra’s bladder, and Ezra couldn’t handle the pressure. “Can I visit the bathroom first?”
“Excuse me?” Mr. Jones blinked at him. Ezra had never seen a man so discombobulated before. His question was valid.
“You said I couldn’t move, and I am absolutely terrified you’ll kill Chaz if I move, so I must make sure there’s no opportunity for an accident.”
“Jesus Christ. Max, take him,” Mr. Jones ordered. Ezra blew out a sigh of relief. This was fine. Chaz would survive. Chaz wouldn’t die because of Ezra.
Max nudged him to a discreet hallway with black enamelled panels. The door to the bathroom blended in, and he only found it because Max stopped. He stepped through and gaped at one of the most opulent places he’d ever been. Everything was black, lacquered, and chromed up. It was beautiful, and he was so out of place. Ezra did his business, and as he washed up, Ezra examined himself in the mirror. God, he looked rough. A bruise was still blossoming outward from his nose, giving him a black eye mask. His hair hadn’t been brushed or fluffed, so it was half plastered to his head. He was definitely a threat to Mr. Jones’s dignity.
“Yo, asswipe, you done in there?” Max’s voice interrupted Ezra’s musings. He washed his face gently and exited the washroom to discover Max lounging against the wall. “You good now?”
“Yes, thank you.” Being polite to bad guys was the nice thing to do. Max had allowed him some privacy while he peed, and that was kind. Ezra didn’t think anyone else would have given him that chance.
“Sit down and shut up.” Max shoved him back to the lounge chair where a small table had a flute of mineral water and a plate of food. Small crackers and fruit with dips and cheese were his choices. Ezra relaxed gingerly on the club chair and surveyed his surroundings.
An empty courtyard stretched out toward the bay on the ground level with an open gate leading off into the forest. The water was calm as the sun glistened off it. Any other day, Ezra would be content to sit and bask in the scenery. However, the murmurs of the crowd and the discreet chain-link fence surrounding the yard caused his anxiety to grow.
“Welcome everyone! I am so glad you could make it from Toronto. I realize the drive is a bit onerous. However, the countryside is beautiful, and that makes up for it.” Mr. Jones started, and the guests chuckled at his opening. “Today, we are going to play a little game. As you know, Ontario’s forests are vast, and the trail system is not. So I thought I could use that to my advantage. One of my favourite stories as a child was The Most Dangerous Game , where the main character was hunted by another human. It spoke to me, and I’ve always wanted to see if I could recreate the plot.”
Ezra swallowed at hearing Mr. Jones’s narration. He’d read that book as well, and it bothered him. Who would sympathize with the bored, rich hunter? Now he had the answer. People like Mr. Jones.
“So I thought let’s mix it up. Bigfoot is a popular monster, and people are always eager to get a snap of him. Instead, how about we chase him a la Most Dangerous Game and have some fun with it? The Bruce Trail is close by, so I imagine we can get some lookie-loos from the hikers, and it’ll be fantastic. I also have a wager planned for us all. If our Bigfoot can make it to the Bruce Peninsula National Park on his own before the weekend is through, he can have his freedom, no strings attached. However, if one of my well-trained men catches him… Sorry, my boy, that’s that. What do you say?”
The food Ezra ate rolled in his stomach. He finally understood why the first Bigfoot died. Mr. Jones was playing a game, and he used normal people as his pieces. Chaz was going to be his latest Bigfoot in a long line of poor souls. Ezra had to stop Mr. Jones so no one else died. No way was Chaz going to be able to survive a night in the costume or remember how to return to the park. Holy shit, they were so fucked. His hand shook the crystal glass, and he set it down immediately. No one had to see how freaked out he was. His nerves didn’t stop him from eating everything on his plate, despite how unhappy his stomach was. Being quiet and docile was all for Chaz.
Ezra had to be the agent he never thought he was. He had to think outside the box and rescue the possible love of his life. It was hard to tell from two nights of knowing one another, but he digressed. Chaz made him feel things, and Ezra hoped to explore that connection on a deeper level. He had to create a distraction so Chaz could escape from Mr. Jones’s clutches. Learning what Mr. Jones had in store for them was more important than jumping into action. His empty plate was replaced by a new one without Ezra noticing. He gaped at the food, unhappy at not being aware enough of his surroundings. Chaz would fail him for sure.
The crowd had grown more contemplative as Mr. Jones spoke. Curiosity filled the guests’ faces as they waited for the punchline. Mr. Jones had paused to allow the information to sink in.
“Today’s game has a bit of a twist. I’m thrilled to share that Bigfoot’s lover is here in the room. He’s going to be our bait. Will Bigfoot go to the National Park and be free, or will Bigfoot race here to rescue Mr. Smith? Adds some flavour to the competition, doesn’t it?”
The murmurings grew louder as everyone turned their attention from the back courtyard to Ezra, who had just picked up a piece of melon. He gave a tiny wave and stuffed the piece into his mouth. His face flushed as the crowd tittered. Being the centre of attention still sucked. Chaz having to search for Ezra worried him, but he believed Chaz would have a plan, even if it was only half thought out. Ezra needed to do his part and be a distraction. Which seemed easy enough.
“Sarah, my dear friend, will take your bets. I will allow fifteen minutes before I introduce you to Bigfoot.” Mr. Jones smiled as he stepped from the edge of the deck. He sat beside Ezra while the guests swarmed Sarah and her helper. Mr. Jones glanced at Ezra. “You ready to discover what happens next? Place a bet on Mr. Adams’s final decision?”
Ezra shook his head. He couldn’t begin to guess what Chaz planned. Their mission had turned on its head and did a break dance from all sense of reality. “Uh, not really? The man is a constant surprise. Anything he does will shock us all.”