Page 123 of Chemistry: The Chemist

“I understand Jack. But I keep making it clear that he is not like the others. He doesn't make mistakes. I stumbled upon him by chance. Hadn’t he approached me, we’d never know who he was. He’s given me nothing,” I lied, gnawing at my bottom lip as I did so.

Chem hadn’t given me much, but there were a few things I was obligated to report. I hadn’t. The house in Berkeley. His family’s jeweler. His driver, Aden. His staff. The amount of time it took us to get from his place to mine. The amount of turns we made. The exact turns we made. Yet, I had nothing.

“That sucker has his shit air-tight.”

“He’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. I’m beginning to feel like we’ll never dismantle their operation. We don’t have enough on him.”

“What we have, we’ll make stick.”

“The word of a dealer that simply wants a way out of his own troubles?”

“Well since you put it away, I guess we don’t have much on him.”

“Give me some time. Maybe he’ll slip.”

“Let’s hope he does. Otherwise, we’ll bring him in on what we have, shake everyone around him down, and piece some shit together from there. Once he’s captured, I’m sure someone will come forward with some information.”

“Possibly so. Have you finalized the profile for my best friend?”

“Yeah. Yeah. We’re finishing up. It should be ready in a few days or so.”

“Make sure it goes back to childhood. Just in case, Jack. I don’t want to bring any harm to her or her husband. But, this case is taking much longer than I anticipated. If I’m going to continue, then I at least need someone I love on speed dial for those days I need some fresh air and normal conversation. If it’s not one of you all I’m talking to, it’s him or my damn walls.”

“Understood. Just hang in there. We’ll take care of it and make sure everything checks out, down to the school yearbook pictures.”

“Good. Talk to you later.”

“Talk to you later, Johanson. And good work out there.”

“Tell me that when this is all over.” I sighed.

“I’ll tell you again then.”

He ended the call, freeing me from bondage. The cafe’s restroom wasn’t exactly where I wanted to be on the private call, but it was the only solution for Jack’s impromptu call. I swirled the iced matcha I’d ordered, hating the fact I’d brought it in the bathroom with me. However, the stirrer that stopped it from spilling out of the small opening at the top that offered some sort of relief.

I emerged, reentering the crowded cafe and heading straight for the door. My loft was two blocks away. The wind swept my ponytail over my shoulder. I adjusted the YSL sunglasses I’d picked up in Berkeley with Chemistry’s encouragement. He was such a fucking influence.

Even my altered strut was inspired by him, his lifestyle, and the parts of it he offered me. My head was a little higher. My nose pushed into the air a little more. My shoulders were a bit more squared. My spine was straighter. My words were fewer. As if everyone around me could sense who it was I was bending over and busting it wide open for, I entered spaces differently, now.

I belong to Chemistry. I imagined there was a sign pinned on me somewhere that let everyone know. The way groups parted to give me unrestricted access on the sidewalks, held doors open long before I approached them, greeted me so pleasantly, and accommodated my needs with me hardly having a chance to ask, I assumed the thought wasn’t too farfetched.

Make him proud, Egypt.

It didn’t matter how many miles away he was, his presence was always felt. Though he wasn’t around physically, he had eyes on me. That much I knew. When the report was made, I wanted to be sure it included how much of him was beginning to shine through me.

Downtown Clarke was a melting pot. Its beauty was undeniable and my promise to explore it more hadn’t been broken yet. Each day I wasn’t climbing from under Chem’s covers or lying beside him underneath mine, I made my way through the lobby and into the sea of opportunities downtown presented. Today, I decided to try iced matcha for the first time. Tomorrow, if my schedule permitted, I’d try the ramen spot just three doors down from the cafe.

I arrived at my building with matcha lining my lip. It had a pleasant, very potent taste to it while remaining mellow. Smoothly, it ran down my throat, soothing its warmth. The walk to and from the cafe in the Clarke sun had my temperature slightly elevated.

“That’s good.” I moaned, tasting the honey I’d added to my order.

Oblivious to my surroundings, I strolled through the lobby, into the elevator, down my hallway, and to my door. I entered while finishing off my drink and scribbled in a trip to the cafe onto my mental schedule. They’d definitely be seeing me soon.

“Oh shit.”

My path to the kitchen was obstructed. The sound of sturdy boxes and my ice nearly hitting the floor forced me to pay attention to where I was going. The new additions to my place hadn’t been there when I’d left. A smile creased the corners of my lips as the culprit came to mind.

This man.

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