Page 2 of Loverboy
“The sandwich?” Duff asks, eyes on the road.
“No, the assignment.”
The kid looks uncomfortable. "I'm not at liberty to say."
“Oh fuck. Come on, kid. You're going to make me walk in there cold? Let me know what I'm up against.”
“He made me promise I wouldn't tell. You wouldn't want to get me fired, would you? I have student loans.”
“Likely story,” I grumble. “This better not involve crawling through a drainpipe. I have done that kind ofShawshank Redemptionthing once for Max and never again.”
Duff visibly shudders. “It's nothing like that.”
“Will I need a wetsuit? Or hazmat gear?”
“No! But that's the last question I'm answering.”
I stew on that as we reach the FDR. “This juice is really good, damn it. But if you let it slip that Max squeezed the oranges himself, I will have to dive out of this moving vehicle just to save myself.”
Duff barks out a laugh. “Keep your seatbelt on. The juice is from the deli. You're making a BFD for nothing. It's a cushy assignment.”
“Likely story.” Why would Max insist I fly to New York to take a cushy assignment? Like I'm not busy enough making both of us rich in California? And he knows I hate New York. “You'd better not be lying, kid. Do you know what my specialty is?”
“No?”
“Information extraction.”
“Seriously?”
“You are new, aren’t you? I’m just fucking with you. My specialty is covert ops and surveillance equipment. You still don’t want to fuck with me. I could rig your toilet paper roll to blast your farts over a sound system in Times Square.”
He laughs again. “I’ve been warned.”
“How is Max, anyway? I haven’t seen him in a few months.”
“Intense,” is the first word out of the kid’s mouth.
Eh. That doesn’t tell me much, because Max is always intense. “How’s the vibe around the office?”
The kid is quiet for a moment. “My great-grandfather used to tell me stories about what England was like during World War II. And it’s like that. Everyone is hunkered down, trying to get by with too few personnel. We’re rationing our time off.”
“I see.” It’s not a bad analogy. The Company is at war in a manner of speaking. Our high-tech clients are all locked in battle with a common, invisible enemy. A ring of shady tech manufacturers has been trying to infiltrate Silicon Valley. Max is trying to shut it down on behalf of our clients, and also on behalf of civilization.
“Morale is pretty good even so,” Duff adds. “Because we’re on top of our game, and our clients are happy to have us. It’s not a thankless job, you know?”
“I do know that, kid. I absolutely know.”
* * *
Fifteen minutes later I'm handing my driver’s license across the reception desk at The Company. The young woman on duty glances at my ID. “Welcome back to the New York office, Mr. Scott! Your security clearance is still active, even though it’s been a while.”
“Seven months,” I mutter. I hate New York. It reminds me too much of being a young, stupid kid. So I don’t come to town very often.
“Max is waiting for you in his apartment.”
“Where nobody can hear me scream? Awesome.” She and Duff both laugh, but I'm not really kidding. I press my hand to the sensor on the turnstile that allows me to pass through to the elevators. And then I do the same on a panel that summons the only elevator with access to Max's living space on the penthouse floor. “Thanks for the food and the juice, Duff,” I say as I step inside the car.
“Anytime.”
