Page 47 of The Spy Ring

SIXTEEN

Jagger

Geoffrey

“Must you sing,”I said as I hugged the cool, granite counter.

It felt refreshing despite the off-key rendition of “Single Ladies” being earsplittingly lacerated to a bloody demise by the most beautiful woman in the world, Tiffany.

“Drink this.” She pushed a glass of cloudy green liquid at me.

With tremendous effort, I lifted my head and closed one eyelid to ease the dagger that was hacking away behind it. That’s when I made the terrible decision to stand. Everything that hurt in my body, in my head, felt like it was about to explode.

“Will it kill me?” I asked.

“No.” Her plump lips curved in that sexy way that normally drove me crazy but it only made me sad right now.

Unhappy because I couldn’t enjoy it. My body wouldn’t let me relish anything right now.

“What if I wanted it to? You could, you know. I’m sure no one would miss me.”

The curve of her mouth turned down and I didn’t like that. I was in terrible pain, but I would bear it if I could make her unhappiness disappear.

“I’d miss you and I know David would,” she said before turning back to the stove to continue torturing me with that delicious smell permeating from the pan. Tiffany poked at it with a spatula.

For a moment, the pain dissipated and all I could feel was my heart filling my chest, in fear of choking me with happiness. The aroma, her pity for me, and how she had been puttering around me since I woke to ease my hangover.

She didn’t realize her sour musical stylings were the things that woke me up on Tiffany’s couch ten minutes ago. Or maybe she did, and this was to make up for her tremendous lack of talent. But if that were true, she would stop singing and she won’t. No matter what I say.

Despite all that, I smiled as I watched her. So, I did as she commanded and lifted the repulsive looking liquid to my lips. It’s weird apple flavor wetting my cottony mouth.

“Don’t drink too much at once,” Tiffany paused her melody to warn me as she continued cooking, “or you might get sick. Take it easy on your stomach today.”

“Okay, Mom.” I chuckled as I put the glass down and scooted onto the stool.

After a minute, she turned around with a plate of scrambled eggs with whole wheat toast.

“Wow, this looks great,” I said with the sudden realization of how hungry I was.

“Here’s some oatmeal, and honey for your toast.” Tiffany moved around the kitchen, grabbing a bowl that she must have made earlier and the glass jar of honey.

It was all so much. I haven’t had anyone take care of me—not like this—since I was a little boy. It was something I never really thought I needed. I believed that being strong and independent meant taking care of yourself, even when things were bad.

I stared at the food in front of me trying to find the words to tell this wonderful woman how much it meant but what I got out was, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’m used to it. I’m just glad I had some Pedialyte left over.” She came around the counter while taking sips from her mug that had a picture of a coffee pot on it with the words Pot Head underneath.

She sat on the stool next to me with a funny look. “Are you going to eat or just stare?”

I was still in shock that she was taking care of me when I had done nothing but lie and spy on her. Ugh, I don’t know what felt worse, this hangover or my guilt?

“Yeah, of course.” I lifted a forkful of the fluffy eggs to my mouth.

They had to be the best eggs I had ever had. That added to the guilt. And the toast and oatmeal. Everything was delicious. Who knew toast could be satisfying? Tiffany must have done something to make it extra delicious.

The meal was so wonderful that I was done in a matter of minutes. Damn, I needed that.

Patting my belly, I turned to her to smile. I meant to compliment her but what came out was an extra loud, extra long burp.

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