Page 47 of Dear John

“I’m on an interview.”

He snorted, walking toward me. “Yeah, an interview,” he said, using air quotes. “I know what they’re doing in here.”

“Yes, interviewing me for a job.”

“You don’t need a job. You have a job. Besides, this is Kamau’s way of trying to get me here.”

I knew I was going to regret asking, but— “What exactly is Kamau doing to lure you here?”

“Duh. He invited you for an interview. Isn’t it obvious what he wanted?”

“Not at all. Kamau isn’t even here.”

“Oh, he’s here,” Fox grinned, nodding in a knowing way. “He’s always watching.”

“He’s going to watch you get shot when Cap bursts back in here with his gun pointed at you.”

“Listen, maybe you forgot how awesome I am with knives. It’s alright. I forgive you for the slip.”

He started to stroll past me, but I grabbed him, jerking him back. “Fox, you will get yourself killed if you don’t call Cap right now and tell him you’re the one who broke in.”

“But that would defeat the purpose of breaking in here to get you out. Right now, they don’t know that I have you, but if we stick around or if I call, then it’s pretty fucking obvious what I’m doing here.”

“Not to me.”

“Oh, come on. You can call this whatever you want, but we both know what this is.”

“An interview.”

He rolled his eyes dramatically. “A plea for help, but they can’t give you what you need.”

“Which is?”

“Funyuns, shawarma, and love.”

“That sounds like a serial killer’s Valentine’s list.”

He frowned at me. “Actually, it’s mine. What exactly are you saying?”

The door burst open and I spun, holding up my hands. However, my Funyun-loving friend wasn’t quite so accommodating. He had his knives out and was whipping them across the room, attacking the very men I was trying to get a job with.

Guns were drawn, and like the idiot I was, I stepped between the men I wanted to hire me and the psychopath behind me who was trying to rescue me. “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” I shouted, holding up my hands.

Sweat trickled down my temple as the seconds ticked by. Every second felt like an hour until, finally, Cap gave the signal for his guys to stand down. I peered over my shoulder, glaring at Fox. “Lower your fucking knives.”

He scoffed, pocketing his daggers. “Talk about ungrateful. I was just trying to help you out.”

I turned to Cap and immediately denied everything. “I don’t know him.”

“Yes, you do. Why are you lying to them?” Fox asked.

I shook my head, ready to go to the mattresses over this. “Nope, haven’t seen him a day in my life.”

“Then why were you at the bar with me just last night having a beer? Remember? We had that whole conversation about if cats had wings. And I said it would be totally awesome because then they could fly and attack at the same time. And then you said it was ridiculous because cats could already jump really high. They didn’t need wings.” He turned to Cap. “But what cat wouldn’t want wings? Am I right? It would be totally awesome.”

They just stared at him, and a little at me too.

“Nope, that was someone else.”

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