Page 58 of Perfect Order
Later that night, I type the same words I said to Kris after he wanted me to walk the walk.Nope. No way. No how.
“Why not?”
I run my fingers through my hair in frustration.Because. Watching movies about clowns is creepy. I don’t care if it is It and the book is freaking brilliant.
Kane bursts out laughing, which I can hear through the microphone I turned on. I asked if he minded this time, to which he drolly replied, “What? Giving me advance warning? Go for it.”
To which I typed,Well, I could have just done it.
“True.”
Besides, this way you don’t have to type as much.
“And I appreciate that more than you know. Some of us weren’t born with a keyboard in our hands.”
Hardy har har.
So, in the process of bantering back and forth, we’ve been reviewing more contracts that were dumped into a file. What Kane doesn’t know is I’ve accessed a drive where my boss backed up all of my contracts. When I’m not practicing singing and getting ready for a very public humiliation I’m enduring in hopes of bringing Lee’s killer forward, I’m reviewing them based on a risk-rating system I established long ago: interest to national security, client, asset, activity, information, volume of data—the list goes on. With a few clicks, I dropped a bunch in Kane’s hands and have focused on the higher higher-risk ones myself—the ones some of the other agents would be obligated to shoot me—or the big man himself wouldn’t hesitate to toss me into a cell—if they were ever read by someone outside the agency.
But after I called the deputy director of operations an ass clown and Kane mimicked some of the movie's most famous lines, I typed,No, no clowns. We don’t do clowns in this house.
“What do you like to do?” he asked casually.
I thought about the answer before typing,I don’t often have a lot of down time but I love sitting out on my deck in the morning.
“Even in the winter? Wait, where do you live?”
I ignore the second part of his question for now.I’ll take my morning coffee with me, even if I’m seeing it from the other side of the night. Watching the sun rise is incredible.
“Are there a lot of nights where you do that? See the sun rise from the night before?” His voice has a forced casualness to it I’d have to be deaf not to hear.
How do I explain this without telling him everything about who I am? Finally, I give him a good portion of the truth.There’s a vulnerability when the world’s asleep. It leaves our hearts and minds open to so much—including new ideas.And attacks, but I don’t share that.But there are nights when my eyes just won’t close. I can’t lose that energy. A shapeless idea in the darkness that sparks in the light of the stars illuminates into something magical under the first rays of the sun.
He doesn’t say anything for a long while, but when he does, I have to fight the urge to flip on the camera to see him. I have to wrap my arms around myself not to hack into Hudson’s system to pull up a picture of his face. I fight hard not to dig deep in the murky shadows of the internet so I can learn more about Kane McCullough. His voice is tender when he murmurs, “I thought you said you didn’t write music, Leanne.”
My fingers hover over the keyboard to take that next step, but finally, I just type,Maybe I’ll be able to see it again someday.
Then to get us back on topic, I drop a file into his folder and ask him to look into it. Kane quickly agrees. And we stop our banter to get back to work.
Kane
I went to a joint bachelor/ette party last night. Instead of strippers, we sang karaoke. Why? Will someone just give me a good reason? Was the intent to induce projectile vomiting? If so, mission accomplished. My apologies #mtasubway
— @PRyanPOfficial
“Just because she hasn’t been atyourpractice doesn’t mean she hasn’t been practicing, Becks,” Carys’s exasperated voice comes through the line as we ride with Beckett to the studio located in an old warehouse in Tribeca.
“I booked enough studio time for all of us to practice, Carrie. It’s ridiculous she’s not using it,” Beckett counters.
“No, you’re just a cranky ass because Erzulie is doing what she needs to do without your omnipotent presence.”
Riding next to him, I have the pleasure of catching him opening and closing his mouth before he presses the button to disconnect the call. “She’s such an ungrateful wench,” Beckett declares to no one in particular.
Mitch, of course, eggs him on. “Erzulie?”
“No, Carys! Here I am calling as a concerned friend, and she doesn’t take me seriously.” Mitch steers the vehicle down the small side street where I know the entrance to Erzulie’s building is located. Beckett perks up. “Hey, maybe we should stop in and see if she’s around?”
I quickly squash that idea, knowing Leanne is likely reviewing another set of contracts in advance of our rendezvous later tonight. I suggest, “How about we get you to your bandmates on time so they don’t swing for your head?” reminding Beckett of his drummer, Carly, flinging drumsticks off his chest during yesterday’s rehearsal despite his massive apologies because he was over half an hour late since he was FaceTiming with Paige.
