Good byes were easy when you didn't have to say it to anyone. In the 3 years of being a FBI agent I didn't know anyone outside of work. It was easier that way. No one would miss me if I died, I wouldn't miss anyone if they died.
I stood in the doorway of my apartment. The curtains were drawn and the light from the hallway, created shadows. Max sprawled across my feet, refusing to leave. He knew something was up.
I kneeled down and petted his head. "Come one Max we have to leave."
He whined.
"I know. I don't want to go either."
Max hopped to his legs as I switched off the lights. I closed the door of the apartment not knowing when I'd come back. Or if'd come back at all.
The perks of going undercover, you get ride a private jet. Ross, Green, Morgan, Jones, Osbourne, Crawford and Newman were already on board. I took a seat next Derek by the window. The weather was rainy. Tiny drops of water cluttered around the oval shaped window. The plane jolted as it sped up.
"Ladies and gentlemen this is your captain speaking. We will be in air in a couple of minutes. Due to the weather there is some turbulence, so please fasten your seat belt until the sign says so. We will arrive in Boston in approximately 1hour and 20 minutes. In that time please enjoy the complimentary beverages and entertainment."
"I could use some of that complimentary beverage," Crawford rubbed his hands together.
"Drinking," Osbourne snorted. "How much like DEA agent."
"Your agency doesn't have anything to do with drinking, lady," Ross said.
Jessica rolled her eyes.
A hostess came out with a trolley of beverages. Most of us reached for the alcoholic ones.
"I remember when we used this to clean wounds," Crawford said pointing to his clear plastic glass, then to his right bicep, a jagged scar.
"Is that your worst scar?" I arched my eyebrows. I lifted my shirt to show him the deep knife I had gotten. It was my first scar as an FBI agent. It had healed, but you could still see the stitch marks.
"Not worse than this," Jessica lifting the her own top to show a bullet wound.
"I can top that," Green finished off his drink and pulled down the neck of his shirt to show a bullet wound he had near his heart.
"Oof!" Crawford snickered.
In mid air, the conversation switched to best cases and worst criminals. I got bored of the competition and excused myself to go sit with Jake. He'd found himself an empty chair far away from the group. Max was lying on the chair next to him. He was in his usual nerdy gear of jeans, a graphic T-shirt, hoodie and sneakers. For any other girl it looked dumb but I found it cute. Max jumped off as he saw me. I took over the seat.
"Hey," I smiled.
"Hey," Jake set down his laptop.
"You excited? You're first undercover mission."
"My first mission ever."
"But you don't seem so happy about it."
He shrugged and looked out the window as a streak of lightning shook the whole plane, "I don't like guns or violence. I'm more of the background person."
"I know. You failed your gun test."
"Purposely."
"I'm sure."
"Seriously."
"Sure, sure."
He leaned over and pulled out a bottle from his backpack. It was a blue Gatorade bottle. He handed it to me.
"You remembered!"
"You're kind of hard to forget."
"Is that how you get girls? Remember their favorite energy drink?"
"Well you would be the first."
"You never had relationships before?"
"I did. I was just never noticed by someone like you."
"Like what?"
"Beautiful."
I laughed out loud, "Thank you but you're pretty attractive. Girls must swoon over you."
"I like comic books, video games and have a PhD in computer science. All girls find that nerdy and boring."
"I think video games are awesome. Nerdy guys are...well they're not boring. Don't sell your self short Newman."
We landed on a private airport drunk, hungover and sleepless. Tomorrow we officially start our mission so it was best we went our separate ways. My way being with Jake.
"I assumed your family would pick you up," Jake said as I hopped into a black SUV, Max scratched at the leather seats, disliking the slippery feeling.
"I didn't tell them. They don't know I'm a FBI agent."
"I'm sorry I assumed..."
"It's okay. I'll visit them...soon."
I had lived in Boston for 2 decades and yet I forgot the city. It didn't feel like home. Just sort of a memory, fading away. I started out the window like a child visiting Disneyland, minus the enthusiasm and excitement.
"Remembering the city?" Jake titled his head to side.
"Trying to."
We passed through Beacon Hills, the neighborhood my family lived in and I was brought up in. Just to imagine a few streets down were my family. Our apartment was on Boston Street. When I was a Law student, I always imagined Dante and I living in a penthouse on Boston Street. I would be practicing law and he would in his business. Those were simpler times.
Our apartment was a tall building in cluster of other apartment buildings. There was a cafe across the street and a bar, perfect place for an alcoholic like me to drink away my problems.
Our apartments were on the second floor. We bounded the stairs, tired and restless for sleep. Jake's apartment was just across the hall from mine. I unlocked my door and Max ran in. I turned and Jake was struggling to unlock his door. I coughed because it looked so funny. He turned with a smile on his face. His smile literally lit up the dimly lit hallway.
"If you need anything call me or shout for me," I said.
"Me too I think. I'm not sure you'll need me though."
"Don't sell yourself short, Jake."
He leaned against the door frame and chortled, "I'll try not to."
"Goodnight."
"Goodnight Pearce Hudson."