Page 46 of A Lot to Unpack
I got up early today – probably the earliest I’ve been up, well, ever. It wasn’t even light outside, that’s how early it was.
So I’m up, I’m dressed, and I’m ready to get my stalk on. That’s my plan for today. With Jordan insisting I shouldn’t even turn up at the office today, and instructing me to do my own thing, because he’s busy, well, I started to wonder – busy with what?
This is what they don’t show you in fancy secret agent movies: the waiting. So much waiting. You never see James Bond sitting on the end of his bed, waiting, or Ethan Hunt loitering next to an adjoining door awkwardly, listening for signs of life.
Well, that’s how I do it, baby.
I’ve had no less than three coffees from the machine in my hotel room, to the point where my stomach is starting to complain, and I’m buzzing. Now all I need is for Jordan to get up, go out, and do whatever it is he’s going to do – and hope, at some point, he says or does something that gives me an idea how to sneak into his room. Unless he’s carrying the contract aroundwith him – although I don’t know if that would be easier or more difficult to pull off a swap.
I am spectacularly unqualified for basically everything, but I’m here and I’m doing my best.
Eventually, I hear it, the soft clunk of a door opening. It’s him, he’s heading out… It’s go time!
I slink out of my room slowly and quietly and follow him – keeping my distance, of course – to the lifts. He gets in one so I wait for the next one, hoping I don’t lose him in the few seconds I’m not going to be able to keep eyes on him.
Thankfully I arrive in the lobby only seconds after he does. He doesn’t glance back as he heads out which is lucky for me, because I’m not sure where I’d hide in the wide-open space.
Outside, he walks like a man on a mission. It’s not easy, trying to keep up with him, and keep enough distance so that he doesn’t see me.
As he turns into a coffee shop, I make a very dramatic dive behind a newspaper stand not too far away. I can see him inside, queuing up, waiting to place his order. It looks like he’s getting a takeaway coffee and a muffin, and while I’ve definitely had enough coffee, I’m so hungry. What I’d give for a muffin right now.
My stomach rumbles right on cue. The big, loud, dramatic kind of noise when your body is not only complaining, but pining for something.
He sips his drink, oh-so casually as he strolls out the door, and carries on down the street.
I might have had enough coffee, but what I’d give for something warm to hold on to. My hands feel like ice.
As he walks, he peers into shop windows. First a bookstore. Then a vintage record store. He doesn’t look like he’s looking for anything specific, more like he’s browsing.
I stay back, blending in with the tourists, the people Christmas shopping, and those on their way to work. I’m just another random person in a crowd of hundreds of random people. I’m completely incognito.
All of a sudden he crosses the street. He doesn’t think about it; he darts for the crossing, to the point where I have to pick up the pace just to keep up with him. He doesn’t walk for long before he reaches another crossing and heads back over the road again. Is he lost or something? Still, I follow him, keeping my distance, but trying to keep up.
Soon enough he crosses again – okay, what is he doing?
I pause, ducking behind a tree. What the hell is he doing? Is he actually lost? Is this some weird cardio thing? Is this how he pumps up his muscles, by playing Chicken in New York? Or does he not know what to do with himself? Or is he meeting someone, but he can’t find them…?
He stops. Looks around. Tilts his head, almost like he’s deep in thought. Then he carries on.
I’m hesitant to keep following him, because the vibe is just plain weird, but in a weird way it only makes me more determined to follow him because, I swear, the man is up to something. I have to know what it is.
Why, yes, I am questioning my life choices. My toes are numb, I’m starving, and I’m literally stalking a man. But I can’t resist the urge to see it through, to figure Jordan Bill out.
I wrap my scarf a little tighter around my face, to keep my nose warm, and carry on.
Jordan veers off into the park and heads along the winding paths. He seems like he knows where he’s going now, and what he’s doing.
I keep back, clinging to the trees, but doing my best impression of someone casually enjoying a wintry park stroll… alone… while so very blatantly stalking a man.
He stops briefly by the fountain, glances around, his eyes scanning the space, so I duck behind a wall, crouching down, pretending to tie the lace of my boot which, in fact, has no laces.
When I dare peek again, he’s on the move. This time toward a huge, ancient-looking tree with a hollow in its trunk.
I slow down, trying not to crunch too many dead leaves beneath my feet as I get closer. Jordan looks around again, like he’s checking no one is watching, and then he sticks his hand into the hollow of the tree. What? I pause mid-step, one foot frozen in the air like I’m playing musical statues at a kids’ party and ‘Agadoo’ just stopped. He’s rooting around in there (no pun intended), and I can’t tell if he’s taking something or leaving something, but whatever he’s doing looks undeniably dodgy.
I give him a moment to leave before sneaking over to the tree, my heart thumping in my chest. I genuinely have no idea what I’m going to find in there – like, what could it even be? Is he into something bad? Am I going to get myself in trouble, if I touch it?
I know, I should leave well alone, I’m out of my depth, but I have to know.
