Undercover

Chapter One

Chapter One

Why, why, why? Why did alarm clocks have to emit the most excruciatingly painful noise known to man? Oh, right, because they were made to wake you up. Jason threw off his covers and attempted to sit up. However, as soon as he reached a sitting position he collapsed again in agony. His head was throbbing. If he was a normal person, this would have taught him not to go out drinking on a weekday night. But this was Jason Weisburg. He didn’t think of the repercussions of such actions until after they had occurred.

                Ten minutes later, Jason had finally gotten out of bed. He showered quickly, grasping tightly to the shower handle the entire time to avoid collapsing. He got out and stumbled to the sink, resting a hand on either side, and glanced at his appearance in the mirror. He looked like hell. Why did he keep doing this to himself? He grabbed the Advil out of the medicine cabinet and shoved a few more than the recommended dose into his mouth.

                What would his boss say if he wore sweatpants and a tee-shirt to work? Would that be acceptable? Jason didn’t think so. Sighing, he dressed himself in his normal work attire: slacks, button-down shirt, tie, and jacket. Fucking excellent.

                Following his usual morning routine, despite the fact that he was in no state to remember it, Jason staggered out into his kitchen. Despite the decent size of his apartment, the kitchen was relatively small. He hadn’t much of a need for it. He opened the cabinet above the sink and reached for his bag of coffee, only to discover that there wasn’t one. He hurried over to the waste bin, opened it, and saw the crumpled-up Starbucks bag right on top. Shit.

                Less than an hour later, after stopping for a coffee, Jason Weisburg pulled his black Ford Expedition into his personalized parking spot. His spot, right up front, was labeled “Jason Weisburg – Field Operations”. One of the perks of being up high on the chain of command at the FBI.

                Yes, that was correct. Jason Weisburg, the seemingly arrogant, low-life who got wasted hours before he had to be at work, was up high at the Federal Bureau of Investigation. A federal government position.

                He flashed his ID to the security desk and continued through the building to his office, keeping his sunglasses on as long as possible to avoid explaining to anyone. After a while he took them off, realizing that he would be forced to do more explaining if he was wearing sunglasses indoors. When he’d finally reached his office, Jason immediately sat down in his chair and put his head in his hands.

                “Well don’t you look like a class act.” Jason looked up to find Kent Apperly standing in the doorway of his office, his arms crossed, his usual smirk on his face.

                Jason grabbed a pen from his desk and chucked it at him. Kent Apperly was the epitome of “sex god”. He was tall, dark, and handsome, not to mention smart, a total bad-ass, and a smooth-talker with the female sort. He was also the closest thing Jason had to a best friend.

                “Late night?” Kent asked, inviting himself in and sitting in the chair opposite Jason’s desk.

                Jason groaned in reply.

                “I told you, you were welcome to join me.”

                “On your date?” Jason questioned.

                “She could have invited one of her friends. She’s a model. She has model friends,” Kent explained, as if it solved everything.