Just Another Job (20 page)

Chris pulled out his phone to see if he had
a signal. He wondered how much it would cost to make a call back
home. Even though it would probably piss her off, Chris texted
Sadie. It was a long piece. He imagined Sadie waiting patiently for
the words to hit her phone, but then again she wouldn’t just be
sitting around waiting for anything. Chris’s mind jumped away from
the pretend back to his present actions and panicked. Could they
send text messages right now? Frank didn't say anything and had to
have seen him typing. Chris double checked the report. Nothing.
Whatever, he thought a little too late anyways.

According to his phone, local time was just
after five p.m. Dinner and more sleep appeared to be the schedule
on tap. Chris moved his eyes slowly across the room. Stupid Frank
sitting and watching the stupid TV. Curtains moved gingerly from
the breeze outside. They probably had a balcony. Chris walked over
to check it out. Frank attempted to ignore him, but kept everything
in his peripheral vision. The balcony faced out into the sea. They
were only on the second floor, but the slight elevation allowed an
amazing scene.

It wasn't the Italian Riviera or anything as
spectacularly wealthy. It was the sea under beautiful conditions
with a smattering of small sailboats rocking gently center
stage.

“Quit gawking at the seagulls. If we want to
eat, we need to order room service now,” said Frank from his bed,
eyes still stuck on the TV.

Chris stayed put for a minute longer, but
that was all his stomach could take. He spun his way back in
through the curtains while looking for a remark from Frank. It was
pure nonsense and a childish ruse to get a laugh out. Frank fell
for the idiotic stunt in days past, but wasn't so susceptible now.
Chris ambled over to a desk with the menu.

“Hmmmm,” he said.

“Oh my God,” whispered Frank.

“The tiganita looks good, it says fried
zucchini for an appetizer. Oh man, they have lobster. I bet it's
fresh as hell. I'll order you the fried squid.”

“Stop playing around. Order two appetizers,
two lobsters, and some water.”

“We're in Europe. Wine is required with
dinner.”

“Not tonight. I don't want to deal with you
being anymore of an ass. Remember, we have work tomorrow.”

“You're an ass.”

“Fuck, Chris! Take the hint and shut up!”
Frank sat up and gave the moment a second before he jumped off the
bed and flew out the door.

Chris snorted at Frank’s tirade out of the
room as if it would relinquish all responsibility. But Frank's exit
made Chris think. He didn’t realize how rocky things had gotten
between them. Or maybe the pressure of the mission was getting to
Frank, thought Chris. But Frank always handled pressure a thousand
times better than Chris ever did. He was taking things too lightly,
but he couldn’t help but joke about it. Chris ordered the meal;
maybe that will help.

A half an hour later Frank walked in with
the room service. The smell was maddening. Chris planned an apology
but could only think about the aroma of light batter next to the
pungent garlic butter. Frank set the tray down and both men jumped
into the meal without a pause or comment.

The lobster was fresh as hell and was gone
first. Then they went between slices of bread drenched in balsamic
vinegar and olive oil and bites of country salad. After nothing was
left they sat with their eyes still on their plates.

“I’ve been an ass,” said Chris.

“Asshole,” said Frank.

“Asshole,” said Chris. “We haven't seen much
of each other. I didn't mean to ditch you for Johnykin at the game.
I don't like what we're doing here. I’m not made for this, but I
need to take it more seriously. It’s just Sadie is so upset about
me dying. I don't want to die either. I don't want you to die.”

“Where are you going with all this?”

Chris didn't know. He spewed out practically
nothing that followed a logical path. “I want to be friends again
after I quit, without saying it so lamely.”

“Well that was lame. Try again.”

“I...” Chris waved his arms up and slapped
them down on his knees. His eyes opened wide in an effort to
communicate the difficulty of thinking after gorging on a delicious
meal. “I quit.”

“Shit. You're giving up already?” said
Frank. 

“I can't do this job,” said Chris.

“I meant the apology. I know this isn't the
best place for you. Especially when you keep pulling stupid
shit.”

“Then why did you drag me here.”

“I didn't drag you. We needed a job and I
saw an opportunity. I extended it to you because that's what
friends fucking do. I didn't make you do shit. You chose.”

“How could I choose anything when you drove
up to my house and picked me up.”

“You got in the car. You could've said no
anytime. You can't blame me if you're not happy with this.”

“It's not just that. We were supposed to be
IT guys. We were supposed to have safe jobs, not Chuck Norris kill
a thousand bad guys’ jobs.”

“Then why did you save that little kid? You
put yourself out there and got both of us swept up in the Supers'
jobs. I didn't do that.”

“It was an accident. I couldn't just let her
die.”

“No it wasn't. You chose to do what you did.
Just like you chose to be in this room right now. Stop putting that
on anyone else but yourself. You're not a little baby.”

“And I choose to quit. I'm not going to do
this anymore.”

“Then why didn't you stay behind? If you're
really gonna quit, then do it. This isn't X-Tech. You don't put in
a two weeks' notice. If you're done, you're done.”

“It's not X-Tech, but I owe Johnykin and you
one more time.”

“You don't owe me shit.” Frank was about to
leave again.

“Yes I do owe you shit, because when this is
over, like I said, I still want to be friends. I want to hang out
at barbecues and workout and see our kids grow up together. I'm not
going to forget everything because of some stupid job.”

“This job isn't stupid.”

“To you it isn't and that's why I'm here.
But it’s stupid for me. I can be killed for doing nothing and that
is very stupid.”

“It's not nothing! We're here to help
people; to fight for them.”

“I don't fight to help people. I'm not a
soldier or Super or whatever.”

“Well, I am.”

“Then keep on fighting. Do what you're
supposed to do and die for what you're supposed to.”

“I'm not going to die here. We're not going
to die here.”

“What? Come on Frank. I know you're tough,
but we can die out here. Klaus almost died. It might even happen to
them. I don’t know.”

“That was an accident. He's fine.”

Chris saw everything winding down into the
clumsy details that inevitably blurred the bigger truth. He pulled
at his hair to draw out time to think. “Again. This isn't my role.
If it's yours, then that's great. That's why I'm here for a little
while longer, to support you guys.”

“We don't need your fucking support.”

“Okay, but you were right. It was my choices
that got me here. It's my choice again to stay for one more if you
like it or not.” Chris knew that was the best he could end it with.
He stood from his chair, awkwardly stepped around Frank, and walked
out of the room.

In the hallway, Chris put his hands behind
his head and breathed in deeply. That was more tiring than anything
else that day. He stayed just outside the door staring at the
wallpaper and ceiling with nothing passing through his head.

Then the door popped open with a crack.
Chris jumped and released his hands from the back of his head to
turn. He really wasn't paying attention. He thought it was the door
to his room and expected Frank to be there. It was Johnykin
instead.

“Scared you,” she said.

“Not really.” Chris began a smile to
indicate his willingness to play around, but stopped when he saw
Johnykin's lips stay set.

“You guys need to keep it down. The whole
floor caught ninety percent of your bickering.”

“Sorry. Forgot we're keeping a low profile.”
He could hear his tone bordering on playful again and made a note
to stop, but he was tired of arguing and being serious.

“Did you eat yet? We have an early morning.
You checked the mission log, didn't you?” she said.

“Uh-huh. Now I know exactly what we’re
doing.”

“It's going to update. Things are changing
constantly around here —“

“You wanna get some dessert. I'm pretty
full, but I would love something sweet right now.”

“We should get back to our rooms to prepare
for tomorrow.”

“Prepare for what? You just said
everything's changing. I'm not trying to be a dick. I'm trying to
be nice and even if it fails, at least I’ll be happy with the fact
that I tried. Do they do gelato here?”

“That's Italy.”

“And we're in Syria, right?”

“That’s not that funny.” But Johnykin walked
with Chris down the hall to the stairs anyways.

“I’ll work on it,” said Chris. Johnykin
smiled but turned her head to the wall to let it fade.

Outside the hotel, the sun broke reds and
oranges across everything and invited more than just Chris and
Johnykin to wander the streets in its dying hour. Most people had
parked their cars and joined each other on the sidewalks to attend
familiar haunts or start a tradition at a new one.

Even though the signs were predominantly
Greek with a few sporting English underneath, it was obvious from a
quick glance which stores dabbled in food; most of them.

With so much to take in, Chris and Johnykin
hadn't said a word since the hotel. The quiet was comfortable and
for the best. Chris needed time to refuel his brain. Sticking to
pantomime they pointed and nodded until a couple blocks down
Johnykin peeked inside a small café.

It was enough for her to break back to
dialogue. “This looks good. Will a little coffee and pastry work to
satisfy that sweet tooth?”

“It’s no 31 Flavors, but what the hell,”
said Chris, and opened the door for her.

They stepped up to a glass counter with
dozens of tantalizing pastries. The server didn’t speak English,
but a bit of their old miming skills, including ‘that one’ and a
finger pointing through the glass, got the message across.

Chris played the gentlemen without saying a
word and handed over his credit card. Johnykin grabbed it back just
in time in exchange for Euros. He had no idea what he was doing. It
annoyed Johnykin at first, but by the time they were seated and
sipping coffee it endeared him to her.

It was embarrassing. He didn't think about
the mission when he pulled out his wallet and now he couldn't think
of anything to say that wasn't about the mission. It would have
been a bad move especially with Johnykin leaning back slightly in
her chair admiring the other couples in the room. He could see her
relaxed and tried to step out of his head to soak in the moment
like her.

The coffee was scalding, but the flaky,
syrup drenched roll screamed to be devoured as quickly as possible.
Chris took one bite and it was gone. Johnykin continued her calm
demeanor, taking a small sample bite, brushing away any possible
crumbs from her lips, and placing the pastry back on her plate.

Now Chris was left with only the coffee and
taking minute sips to avoid third degree burns. He wasn't sure how
much time had passed in his feasting on their tiny dessert, but he
did know they hadn't spoken since ordering. Without the pastry he
fell back into his thoughts to realize they hadn't made eye contact
either since they sat down. Johnykin was on the last bite of her
roll, although with the dainty approach she took it might turn into
five. Chris saw how beautiful she was again. She shouldn’t be out
fighting anyone. She should be here with an
admirer/boyfriend/husband indulging in the loveliest parts of
life.

But now he was just staring. Did he need to
say anything? Nothing came to him except, again, questions about
the mission. By all accounts things were going well. Johnykin
appeared in high or rather tepid spirits. He felt similarly. Maybe
this was what they should have: a partnership that involves saving
the world.

“I'm happy you're leaving,” said Johnykin,
almost making Chris spit up his coffee.

He had to repeat it in his head first before
responding. “You are?”

“Yeah. This isn't the right place for you. I
don't think it's the right place for me either. I need more time to
think about it. Think about what I want to do after. Yeah…”

“Thanks.” Chris felt suspicious. “You don't
have to stay for like four years or anything? I mean, I didn’t see
anything in my contract. Did you sign a contract?”

“Yeah.”

They sipped their coffee simultaneously.
Johnykin stared off to gather her thoughts. Chris stared at her in
anticipation.

“What would you want to do after this?”
asked Chris, getting anxious from waiting.

“I want a family.”

“Can you have a family? Like your super
powers and stuff won't get in the way. Did they test any of that at
the lab?”

Johnykin looked him in the eye with a twinge
of anger on her brow. Chris hid behind his coffee cup with another
sip.

“It’s not a disease. I can have kids.” She
jumped away from more details. “I used to dance, but that's not
gonna happen again. Maybe I can be a nurse. I like helping people.
I like helping kids.”

Chris attempted to get out from behind his
mug. “Or a superhero doctor.”

Johnykin smiled at the suggestion and
repeated it. “Or a doctor.” Her smile continued and Chris put down
his cup in relief.

Johnykin gazed into the black water of her
cup now looking for protection. Chris became confused at the turn
and began to do what was natural; imitate. His cup was empty,
however, and necessitated something else.